Private Here, Light Still Shines

[Efret Farr]

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.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

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]

“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.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora lingered at the periphery of the hedges. Was it eavesdropping? Probably, but she remained fascinated by the way the Padawans spoke.

Efret! It was Efret. They hadn't seen one another in years, and though Cora had been disappointed by her absence, as a person more than a Jedi, she understood that Efret's reasons were her own.

Still, let herself feel the particular way that her heart fluttered with the good news. Efret was here, and by no mistake had chosen this particular enclave for a reason. Then, the rest filtered in, and Cora saw it fit to sweep out from behind the cover of greenery.

"It does not serve us well to compare our achievements - or our failures."

The situation called for a more admonishing tone, but with a baby strapped to her chest and a long lost friend nearby, Cora couldn't help the way amusement wavered the line of her lips.

"Have any of you thought to ask Master Farr what lead to her departure? Or are we better served by arguing?"

Efret Farr

 

[Efret Farr]

A chorus of dejected nos was the response to her question.

Nirrah's head turned at the commotion, swiveling 180 degrees on her small body and ruffling feathers in its wake.

By now, Efret had climbed a stone staircase to the main temple's approach and was steadily nearing the grand doors. But when Nirrah averted her gaze, Efret too saw the courtyard behind them.

Cora.

The older Jedi turned and retraced her steps. At the landing of the stairs, she took up a section of her saree draped over her legs to descend back to the plush grass below.

She approached the group of Jedi that she hadn't noticed before. "Hello, padawans," she greeted with a slight bow of her head.

"Hello, Master Farr," Shermi and Ensil returned only slightly out of sync. Dion's greeting was mumbled a few seconds later.

Efret didn't seem to notice. Instead of watching them, Nirrah's eyes caught movement in the sling across Cora's chest. Efret stepped closer, almost entranced as she watched a little hand clamping into a fist then opening rise up into the open air, but kept a respectful distance.

"Oh my!" As always, the tinny, feminine voice of her vocabulator was unmodulated, but Efret's facial expressions more than made up for the lack of verbal tone. Now, they were exceedingly soft. "Who's this? May I look closer?"

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora decided to eschew the lecture lingering on her tongue. She certainly wouldn't curtail the student's discussion, but had sought to guide it into something a little more productive.

That thought evaporated when Efret, her attention caught by the commotion, appeared with Nirrah as her herald.

Cora's expression brightened, and she didn't hesitate to step forward and into the aura of a friend. Because that was what Efret remained to her, despite the time and distance.

The Force around her swelled with a joyful sort of pride, as if the esoteric power itself were holding its breath. Cora turned so that Efret and Nirrah could see the tiny face peeking out from the sling.

"This," Cora softened her voice in affectionate introduction, "is Luciana. Already three months old."

For her part, the babe stared up at Efret with the sort of silent, unabashed curiosity that only a child could. Wide blue eyes blinked as her mother brushed the strands of a dark, wispy curl from her forehead.

"Would you like to say hello to Master Farr?"

Efret Farr

 

[Efret Farr]

Efret reached to the highest of her stacked necklaces to turn down the volume of her interpretation unit. Her intention was not to limit Cora's understanding of her fussing over Lucy, but to ensure the baby girl's comfort. Sometimes, the robotic voice caused distress. Even it it wouldn't cause any bother in and of itself, unfamiliar voicing and signing could be overwhelming.

Efret would much rather her facial expressions, which she could control, made an initial impression on Lucy.

When her voice came again, it was much quieter, though Cora would be able to hear it if she focused.

"Hello, Luciana," greeted the master. "Almost three months with Cora as a mother and Makko as a father..." She glanced back into the clearing behind them, then back at Lucy. The happiness that her smile held was a bankfull river, brimming and ready to flood, but without any of the usual threat. "...and this place as a home. You're a very lucky girl."

She straightened up and looked to Cora. "Are you hungry?" she asked, though it wasn't a question for long. "Let me cook for you. A portion for now and then some you can put away."

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Luciana’s attention flicked back and forth from Efret’s smiling face to her vocabulator. She’d never encountered a person whose voice had come from their neck before!

The woman’s bright expression had the desired effect: Lucy cooed, lifting both of her arms with a gurgle before letting them drop.

“Makko and I are the lucky ones,” Cora insisted. Chuckling softly, she ran the back of her thumb over Luciana’s cheek. The babe tilted her neck back - wobbly on developing muscles - to glance up at her mother.

An infant’s attention was a fickle thing, and soon, her eyes were on Nirrah. A happy squeal emanated from the sling as little legs kicked in excitement.

“A meal would be lovely. I bet you’ve picked up quite a few recipes during your research?”

Cora motioned for Efret to follow her up the temple steps and past the great doors. The small enclave had made its home in an abandoned family manor; it was all ancient stonework and wild vegetation. Though portions of the structure had to be cleaned and reinforced for safety, much of the classic Ukatian architecture remained untouched.

“The kitchen is just down here,” Cora gestured as she lead Efret and Nirrah down another narrow staircase. The space that they entered was made of thick stone, outfitted with a few modern appliances to help keep food fresh.

“We grow much of what we eat here on the grounds. What we don’t have, we trade for with the local villages.”

Efret Farr

 

[Efret Farr]

As both of their attention was focused on Luciana—Efret and Nirrah's—Cora would likely notice the flecks of deep purple floating in the convor's big, yellow-green eyes.

The particular shade was prevalent in the Netherworld. When Elias had gotten trapped there, Nirrah had been stuck with him. Efret had told Valery shortly after it happened, back when they all sat on the NJO Council, so it was also likely that Cora had heard then. What she hadn't know was that the time they had been in realm had physically stained their eyes.

"Too many to remember, in fact," the master confirmed with a smile. As she followed Cora's lead, the padawans behind them awkwardly returned to martial training.

Once in the kitchen, and having heard that the enclave grew much of its own food, Efret began to acquaint herself with the space. She started by opening cabinets high and low to look through the cabinets. Shutting a door, she looked to Cora and added to her comment out in the courtyard, "I also know many traditional Lorrdian recipes. I was around ten when I was brought to Coruscant, so some I remember helping my mother cook. Others I've discovered in research. Lorrd always seems too close to Sith-controlled space to visit, both for my family's safety and my own." Efret had been an archeologist and an anthropologist, and in such had never been one for combat. The skirmishes that she had taken part in during the now-defunct GA's most recent wars hadn't changed that. She had stumbled through them and was honestly surprised that she had survived. She could breathe much easier now, of at least part of her could, because that fighting was over.

The demure sadness that had come over Efret since coming inside was reminiscent of a blooming flower moved out of the sun.

"You're not just lucky to have this one," she said, indicating towards Lucy in her sling. "You're lucky to have your homeworld."

Lorrd wasn't physically gone, of course; it still occupied the same orbit abound the Lorrdian sun in the Kanz sector that it had since its formation. Much the same human culture inhabited it as did in the beginning, changed only relatively somewhat by the march of time and the influence of new ideas. Even still, it was effectively lost to Efret. She couldn't risk going back, not since she became a Jedi and not for the foreseeable future.

Maybe not ever.

Efret smiled despite herself. "I'll make you a dahl. It's traditional to use lentils but any kind of beans or peas will work. I enjoy food but I'm not a purist." She drummed the fingers of one hand against the air, considering her word choice. "The overall impression of a recipe is much more important than any of the ingredients."

Preparing a dish with all of its proper ingredients was often the most delicious way to enjoy it, but not always the best. It was always practical to use what was available from world to world, but just because they were on Ukatis didn't mean that they couldn't eat Lorrdian food. It was also always a beautiful thing to inject creativity into tradition.

"What do you think I should use?"

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The gentleness didn’t fall from Cora’s expression, but something in it sobered with understanding. Ukatis had been through two extra-planetary wars in the past few years, and freedom had been both hard-fought and hard-won.

But, it was still freedom.

Cora would always maintain a measure of guilt for her part in those wars, but she believed she’d done one thing right in seeking membership with the Republic when the Alliance had been poised to fall.

Right by Ukatis, not by the Alliance. Still, here they were.

“You’re right; I am lucky for those things...” Cora took a step towards Efret to place a hand on her shoulder. “The galaxy is changing, and I do hope that the pendulum will see it fit swing in our direction again.” She tried for a smile, small and quiet. “I hope that Lorrd will be safe enough to visit, soon.”

Cora’s hand fell away from Efret, her attention sweeping the lower rung of cabinets.

“We have…” Cora bent to open one of the doors, revealing a small burlap bag. She unwound the drawstring, opening the sack to reveal a host of dried beans.

“Polta beans,” she announced. “We don’t grow them here at the temple, but we trade for them with the southern provinces.”

Before Cora could lift the bag toward Efret, a tiny, uncoordinated hand dug into the bounty of beans. Lucy flailed with a happy squeal, then laughed as she sent little tan beans scattering across the floor.

Efret Farr

 

[Efret Farr]

Efret's own smile was unsteady on her face too. It was undeniable that she had gained so very much during her time with the Jedi, but this was all she had known most of her life, even now that she wasn't in an order. That could be measured. Efret herself was living evidence, but there was a quite extensive written record in all of her field journals as well. But how did one go about similarly measuring the potential? Reconstructing just who Efret Farr might be if she had never left Bepru?

She rose her hand to place it over Cora's for a few moments, then withdrew it to sign. "Thank you."

"Those will work well," she commented over Cora's shoulder when their conversation turned, physically, back to food. She hadn't seen the knight call them polta beans, but identified them on her own. Though she had cooked with them a few times before, she hadn't ever made a dahl with them. Still, she imagined that they would make a good substitute for lentils in both shape and taste.

Her laugh rang through the kitchen at Lucy's antics, even as she recoiled a bit as the beans ricocheted off the cabinet. "Wow! What a good helper," she complimented before accepting the now mostly full bag from Cora with a knowing smile.

She then went to the range to put the beans in a pot, cover with a few inches of water, click on the stovetop. Even though she was Deaf, the silence bore down on her. It warped the quaint space like a planet did the fabric of space-time.

Once she put the lid on the pot working its way up to a quick boil, she rose her eyes to Cora. So too did Nirrah. "I'm sorry about the New Jedi Order," she began. "When I resigned and left, I... I had no idea."

No idea that the Empire was so close to invading Coruscant. No idea that the Galactic Alliance was already, quietly in its death throes. No idea that the invasion would be what, after all it had endued, laid it to rest.

But she should have had an idea.

"You'd think an archeologist would be better at reading writing on the wall."

Perhaps she would have been had her attention not been on Naboo—beyond it, really—had her priorities been different. Had they not orbited around Elias.

"I'm sorry."

It would be a lie to say that she would go back if she could and do it differently, to be there for Cora and Ran and Val and every Jedi besides Elias, so she didn't say that—not to Cora and not to herself. She could still be remorseful though. That much was honest.

"The Shirayans rescued Elias from the Netherworld," she added awkwardly. That news seemed too heavy, even if it was also happy, to slot into any conversation naturally. Even if it was possible, Efret didn't have the patience to manufacture as smooth of a transition as she could. Cora just needed to know. She had been waiting for news long enough.

Evidently Nirrah had returned, but now Cora knew that Elias had as well.

But he hadn't likewise come to visit with Efret today.

Cora probably didn't need to ask why to realize that the topic was a delicate one.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

As Efret set about her work, Cora set about retrieving the beans Lucy had spilled. She’d just finished picking a few from the corner beside the stove when Efret spoke again.

Cora stood slowly, careful not to bump Lucy’s head on the counter as they rose. An empathetic little frown pulled at the line of her lips.

“I can’t blame you for leaving,” she admitted. “The Order was strong when you left. In a good place, so I thought - and I trust that you had your reasons.”

Large, structured Jedi orders didn’t work for everyone. Cora was beginning to learn that, but she still felt betrayed when the leaders of the NJO fled Alliance space after their defeat on Coruscant. Where were they now, she wondered?

Cora sighed.

“The Empire’s resurgence took us by surprise, but I suppose that some distance makes it easier to see the cracks. I only hope that Naboo’s order doesn’t repeat the same mistakes.”

Lucy gurgled from her sling, still amused by her earlier assault on the beans. Cora absently stroked her hair, and tiny fingers curled into her mother’s tunic.

Elias’ return was a welcome bright spot, and Cora’s expression lifted at the news. “Oh, that’s wonderful - I haven’t seen Master Edo in ages.” Not since their lesson in plant surge with Ko, back when she’d been a freshly minted knight.

The Ukatian’s hand fell away from Luciana’s hair, eyes dropping to Efret’s hand. She reached slowly - fingers hovering with intent, giving Efret time to pull away - before gingerly laying them atop the Jedi Master’s hand if allowed.

“It’s alright,” she said softly.

Efret Farr

 

[Efret Farr]

"Okay." The Jedi master gave a small smile. It wasn't empty, but full of equal parts self-pity and shyness. The emotions also shined through her eyes, reflecting through tears about to brim.

It was getting harder every day to believe that she really hadn't done anything wrong, for one, and for two that she hadn't done anything to bring any of what weighed on her now on herself. She could tell others all day regardless of who they were or their circumstances that too often bad things just happened. There wasn't always a reason to it. Contrary to popular opinion, the Force was rarely involved—sometimes Its will influenced or even orchestrated events, certainly, but those times were exceptions rather that the rule.

Even now, though, Efret couldn't bring herself to believe Cora. Rather, she let Cora belive for her. That was the best that she could do.

"But Elias isn't alright," she added, using only her free hand to sign at first, but then gently pulling her other hand from Cora's. "Things happened to him in the Netherworld I can't imagine. I haven't seen him since he came back." She tucked her lower lip underneath her teeth. "The doctors and nurses treating him told me that his mind is unstable. They worry that a reunion with me might have drastic consequences for him. The Force suggests to me that they're correct."

Both of Efret's hands sought out her friend's again. They stayed in Cora's emotional and body warmth for a few, long moments before they left again.

"How spicy would you like your portion?" she asked, changing the topic before she could reflect any more on what Elias had endured. "Not, mild, medium, extra?"

Efret had half of a mind to make her own mind-numbing.

After signing her question and options, and while keeping an eye through Nirrah on Cora, she sidestepped towards the spice cabinet.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora’s brow tensed as Efret went on to relay that things weren’t going particularly well for Elias. Rarely did one escape from the netherworld entirely intact, and it seemed as though Master Edo was no exception.

When Efret sought her touch, Cora cradled the curator's hands in her own. It was an automatic response - a sign that the blue blood, who at one time had been rather avoidant to casual touch, was beginning to grow more comfortable with physical contact.

Becoming a mother had helped in that regard. In holding Lucy, she’d learned just how important touch really was.

“Oh,” she said, having not expected the question. “Mild, I suppose. I have a poor tolerance for spice.” Her lips lifted into a sad little smile, but it faded almost as quickly as it had come.

“Perhaps it might be a matter of slow reintroduction?” she tried gently. “A voice call, or something akin to it. It might be less of a shock to his system.”

Cora frowned, letting her thoughts drift past a potential treatment option. She wasn’t assigned to Elias’ case, and netherworld survivors were often delicate. One case could be vastly different from another.

“I can imagine it’s rather difficult,” she murmured, “wanting to be there for Elias, but holding yourself back so you won’t harm him.”

Efret Farr

 

[Efret Farr]

Efret gave a knowing smile, aware that Cora was only trying to help by making those suggestions. One of her own specialties was healer, after all, so it was only natural that her initial reaction was what it was. But the possibility itself had already occurred to Efret. She only began signing again once she had amassed a small collection of spices on the countertop.

"I thought about and suggested that, but I've been told that there's still a good amount of risk." Her signs broke for a sigh, a ragged but still grounding one that she experienced with her whole body. "And I've decided that, after all that he's been through, the threshold for risk must be very low.

"He spared me the same fate he suffered in the Netherworld," she added. She didn't know all—or even most—of what all had happened to him, but she could imagine it. What was worse was imagining that she probably wasn't too far off. "The least I can do to repay him, even if he doesn't remember me, is to do all I can to prevent further suffering here at home." Naboo wasn't home, but this realm was.

He didn't remember her?

"Before Elias disappeared, he gave me a Picture of a Lady flower. From Cathar. Did Jonyna tell you about them?"

If she didn't, Efret would briefly explain. They were beautiful blooms, golden as the sunlight that they basked in as they grew atop the jungles' mightiest trees. As the legend went, they cooperated with the tree, living off shared water and nutrients until it was picked by a sentient. From that moment, it would sustain itself off the being's love as if it had been transplanted in their heart: specifically their romantic connection to whoever they picked the bloom for and subsequently gifted it to.

But—

"It began to wilt. A few months before he returned." Her fingers resisted her words, every handshape and motion. The insinuation behind her revelation weighed more heavily that any part of their conversation yet had.

Sniffing back tears that weren't yet even at her eyes, but down in her throat, Efret set her jaw and tried her best to conjure a brave face. "It is difficult," she admitted, "to be a stranger to someone you know—a literal stranger, not a metaphoric one..."

But she could bear it. She had been bearing it and she would continue to do so. He had gone through hell by himself so she didn't have to endure it with him. Her work with Dr. Tannor Grene had helped her understand many things, one being how she had wanted to weather the storm with Elias. How how he had made the decision to protect her from it without her input muddied her love. It made her resent him, but also deepened her empathy. She saw an opportunity now to give him autonomy rather than take it away by making a decision for him this time.

Was this really a comparable situation to that awful day though? His mind was different. According to both the doctors and her flower, he didn't know who she was anymore. Would her decision to keep them apart harm him emotionally, on some unconscious level, the same way his had harmed her?

She didn't know, but she knew that no one could tell her.

Efret paused to move the spices over to the stovetop. "Do you ever think about the sufi we saw in Deep Well?" she asked, another sudden question though this one was more closely related to the topic at hand.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora kept quiet as Efret signed, careful to give her friend the whole of her attention even as she bounced from one foot to the other to keep Lucy occupied. The babe had begun to whine in her sling, dissatisfied with her mother's lack of movement, but now she'd settled into a gurgling coo.

"I've heard of them," Cora said simply. She'd helped to construct Coruscant's biodome, which housed seed samples from flora around the galaxy. Who knew what state it was in now, if it hadn't been leveled by the various sackings that the core seemed to attract - and Cora pushed that thought from her mind before it could sour her too harshly. "But I'm afraid that I don't know much about them."

Again, Cora fell into attentive silence as Efret explained the flower's properties, the importance of which were quickly made clear in the most heartreaking fashion. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until the vocabulator's flat intonation hit her like a stone sinking into the depths of her stomach. Even the Jedi Master's fingers seemed to fight the weight of her own words.

"That's very kind of you," she said softly, carefully. "To think of his needs over your own. In difficult situations, sometimes these things can get...clouded." It could be hard to tell where one person's wants began, and their partner's needs ended.

That didn't make it hurt any less. She couldn't imagine Makko going though something horrific only to lose the part of him that loved her. Would she have been able to keep away from him for her own good?

Cora's hands found the weight of Lucy, absently feeling for the comforting warmth of her little body. They rubbed in slow, soothing circles, earning a murmur in response. Body swaying to keep her daughter content, she watched as Efret moved towards the stove and posed her question about their visit to Deep Well.

"Not recently," she confessed. "I remember him talking about ecstatic love." Cora couldn't remember the word that he'd used – ishq – but she had recalled the sentiment of the Sufi's message.

Efret Farr

 

[Efret Farr]

"Exactly," Efret affirmed. Her small smile was for the happy memory of sharing the experience with Cora, not for what the sufi's message. "For a while, I wondered if he was wrong." At some point between seeing him and now, Efret's love stopped feeling ecstatic. It instead felt trapped, felt tribulated: the opposites of unrestrained joy.

She took another pause to reach up and take an onion from a hanging storage bag to place on a nearby cutting board. When both of her hands were free again, she looked back to Cora and continued. "People like him, religious and philosophical leaders, should be respected on principle, but I've learned first-hand that they're only people, anointed by a god or concept of the Force or not. To forget that as an outsider is dangerous." One could fall into the promise of the chosens' omniscience and lose themselves.

When the former archeologist gave a sigh, she felt her chest heave and air slightly cool the back of her throat, but wasn't truly aware of how heavy her exhale sounded. "But now I know he was correct. I was ecstatic when Elias returned, even when I was told about his condition and knew that shouldn't go to him. I had ishq for him. He had it for me, but...we didn't know that the other felt it too until it was too late."

Silence descended back over the kitchen as Efret moved towards the refrigerator, seeking a couple of tomatoes and a jug of whatever kind of milk that the Enclave had on hand. She returned these ingredients to her workspace. "I've been a fool," she said before washing one of the tomatoes. "I spent so much time talking with people to make sure that I began a relationship correctly." A pause to wash the other. "Responsibly. But while I was thinking, my chance passed me by. Happiness doesn't wait for one to seize it."

Chopping them came next. The various length of each distraction gave her a chance to anchor herself into the tasks. The weight pressing down through her feet against the old stone. The sweet scent of raw tomato. The gentle heat radiating off of the pot. None of her tiny observations reset rising her emotions, but they did expand her tolerance bit by bit.

"I thought it would," she explained. "I thought that we could be together and happy if only he could be rescued from the Netherworld."

Scoring a single line on the onion, she began to peel away its inedible layers, then set it down.

"I had taken on a padawan maybe six months before the Second Cataclysm. After Elias was lost, I couldn't leave Naboo. Even thinking about it was unbearable. I needed to be there, close by in case he came home.

"That seems to be a part of ishq. I've read more about it. A person typically feels frustrated when separated from the person who they desire. And I am indeed frustrated, though more despondent than irritated at anyone else but myself." She drew her lower lip slightly underneath her teeth, then released it. "So I let the padawan go. He's lost too, in his own way, but so am I. And the lost can't guide the lost." That was a much better saying than the blind leading the blind—more accurate, not just more empathetic. Efret's inability to teach her own padawan had nothing to do with her literal, limited sight.

"I'd be lying if I told you that I would go back and do it again differently...but I shouldn't have prioritized a master over a padawan." She gave a closed-lip smile full of regret. "Still, I think I did the right thing."

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

As Efret relayed what had occurred during her absence from the council, and how those events weighed on her, Cora did what she could to assist her culinary endeavor. She opened cabinets, pointed toward desired ingredients, and hefted the pitcher of dray milk from the fridge.

She made no interjections, save for a singular hmm when Efret referred to herself as a fool.

To see someone like the former chief curator brought so low was something she’d never thought possible - but more importantly, Cora’s heart ached for her friend, for the struggles she’d endured, and for the emotional turmoil she now found herself in.

“There are no perfect choices,” she murmured, lifting her chin to look Efret in the eyes with a soft, focused gaze. “But it sounds like you made the responsible decision in letting your padawan go.”

Luciana cooed, big blue eyes transfixed on the precise, practiced movements of Efret’s fingers. Fortunately, she was far too young to understand the subject matter.

Cora absently brushed her fingers along Lucy’s hairline, sweeping back wispy curls. Was this ishq, she wondered? She didn’t know about ecstatic, but the love she held for her daughter was fathomless. It stretched to the edge of the galaxy and beyond, sinking deeper than the core of Ukatis itself.

“One thing I’ve discovered is that healing isn’t a linear process,” she offered. Cora’s lips remained parted a hair’s breadth as the next words caught on her tongue. There was a notable pause before she spoke again.

“My first husband was through an arranged marriage. I was just a girl, really - and when that ended, when I was finally free of him, I made a series of poor choices.” The corners of her lips drew to the side in a bitter smile. “I didn’t feel like a good Jedi then. I was hurting so terribly that I felt like that path was closed off to me forever.”

Cora looked on as Efret sliced through the tomato, red juice and seeds clinging to her fingers. After lingering in her own thoughts, she retrieved a pail and transferred the discarded vegetable peels there. They’d either be boiled into stock, or added to the compost pile.

“This almost feels like a trial of sorts,” she said. Maybe it was - but Cora didn’t want to say that much, nor insinuate that Efret was being punished.

It served as a reminder that even those who’d found masterhood among the Jedi still had things to learn.

“What do you think comes next?”

Efret Farr

 

[Efret Farr]

The emotional impressions of humiliation and shame were subtle but unmistakable to an Empath as strong as Efret. She imagined that they felt the way that waves sounded breaking on a far-off headland: distant memories still churning out of sight and out of mind, spraying salt on the solid bedrock of the heart.

Evidently, Cora had found a way to weather her storm, both when it had been large and new and wild, and now that it was quieter but ever-present in its ebb and flow. Efret wondered silently if she could follow suit. The title of master was no guarantee that she would be able to.

All of Efret's warmth pooled easily into her smile. Her whole face softened. She took Cora's hand again. "Thank you for telling me your story."

After cutting the tomatoes and dicing the onion next, she wiped her hands off with a nearby tea towel while watching Cora through Nirrah. The blonde wasn't alone; Efret's present circumstances felt like a trial to her as well.

Why else would any of this be happening?

"I don't know," she answered both Cora and herself truthfully.

Sometimes, even oftentimes, bad things just happened. Misfortune was a way of life just as fortune was too. It was a polarity, same as the Light and the Dark, sound and silence, inhale and exhale, feminine and masculine, life and death. Both extremes had to exist or neither meant anything. They had to feed into each other constantly or the galaxy would grind to a halt.

But when one was experiencing misfortune, it was all too easy to lose understanding of the overview, and all too easy to draw inward. To introspect. To ask what you did in this life or any before to deserve this. To reject the impersonal explanation that this was simply the price of being.

Water didn't hate the stone. Nor did gravity. But to be a stone meant erosion by flow, by landslide, and that's all there was to it.

"Maybe this is the end of my journey with the Jedi." Efret sighed. "I can bear this loss, but..." It was her turn to smile bitterly. "It's so heavy, I might never be able to carry anything else.

"I know that time can heal many wounds," she conceded, "but also that sometimes it deepens them instead."

She turned off the stovetop and moved the pot off the heat before lifting its lid away. A thick cloud of steam pillowed out and rose up towards the ceiling. "Let's talk about something else." For this change of topic, Efret was happy to let Cora pick their direction. She wanted to know anything that her friend was willing to share. It gave her a moment to reach for a wooden spatula to stir the swollen beans with.

Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora offered Efret a tender smile. What had been done to her in her teenage years hurt, but these bitter memories no longer held such violent power over her. Still, she enjoyed this moment of connection, and the genuine warmth of her friend’s touch.

The blonde had made it out the other side - so many others hadn’t. Not for lack of strength, either. She’d been fortunate to have those in her life willing to keep her in check.

"Maybe this is the end of my journey with the Jedi." Efret sighed.

A pensive little frown pursed the line of Cora’s lips. There was an initial flash of disappointment in her gaze, underwritten by fear. Then, it settled into soft understanding. There were roads other than the Jedi path, many of which did not involve sinking into Darkness. The opposite of being a Jedi, after all, was not becoming a Sith. It was simply not being either.

“I would be sad to see you end your tenure as a Jedi,” she admitted, choosing her words carefully. Cora extended a hand, and after a brief moment of hovering, let it rest on Efret’s shoulder with a quiet smile. “But that doesn’t mean that we still can’t be friends.”

Cora took a step back, giving Efret space to maneuver the heavy pot to a cool burner. Lucy let out a soft squeal as steam billowed from the simmering stew. She cooed in awe as it grasped for the ceiling with wispy fingers.

The young mother said no more on the matter, though she would certainly find herself thinking of Efret’s plight for quite a while. It was difficult to not know how to help a friend in need, but perhaps the topic shift was the best thing she could do for her.

“Permit me to brag a little, then,” she offered, voice lifting. “Ukatis recently established a minimum marriage age of 18 - something I campaigned for.”

Her voice withdrew a little, a tad sheepish. “I know it can't really compare to much of what the galaxy has already had in place for millennia, but it’s a start.” Cora stroked Lucy’s hair, perhaps just as soothing for her as it was for the babe. “It applies to everyone, but women and girls have few legal protections as it is. I aim to change that.”

Efret Farr