To quell the tempest softly
When she'd learned that her next assignment would be to bring aid to Empress Teta, Cora was eager to make her way to the core and assist the poor, downtrodden citizens of the city-planet. Would they be negotiating a trade deal, or perhaps overseeing some type of construction? War with the Maw had torn parts of the world asunder, leaving many denizens without proper shelter and necessities.
Her hopes of a heroic mission had been dashed upon disembarking from the shuttle into one of Teta's poorer sub-districts. Only there did she learn the details of her posting: Soup Kitchen Duty.
She hid her disappointment behind a strained grin while tying a grease-stained apron over her clothes. The Padawan would not outwardly complain, but honestly, isn't this something that anyone else could do? Why was it necessary for a Jedi to perform this task? The true lesson of this chore hadn't yet reached her, and perhaps it never would.
"You'll have to put that up." One of the volunteers, a tired looking Gotal gestured to Cora.
Tying a second knot in the dirty apron, Cora blinked. "Huh?"
"The hair. Don't want to get it in the food."
Cora's smile tightened. "Of course." She caught the hair net that had been tossed to her, staring at the thin web of material in her hands while mentally bemoaning her situation. Why meeeee?
After securing her long blonde locks in the matronly hair net, she turned to the person next to her—a young man—to see about the rest of her protective equipment.
"Excuse me, do you know where the gloves are?"
Jalen Kai'el
Her hopes of a heroic mission had been dashed upon disembarking from the shuttle into one of Teta's poorer sub-districts. Only there did she learn the details of her posting: Soup Kitchen Duty.
She hid her disappointment behind a strained grin while tying a grease-stained apron over her clothes. The Padawan would not outwardly complain, but honestly, isn't this something that anyone else could do? Why was it necessary for a Jedi to perform this task? The true lesson of this chore hadn't yet reached her, and perhaps it never would.
"You'll have to put that up." One of the volunteers, a tired looking Gotal gestured to Cora.
Tying a second knot in the dirty apron, Cora blinked. "Huh?"
"The hair. Don't want to get it in the food."
Cora's smile tightened. "Of course." She caught the hair net that had been tossed to her, staring at the thin web of material in her hands while mentally bemoaning her situation. Why meeeee?
After securing her long blonde locks in the matronly hair net, she turned to the person next to her—a young man—to see about the rest of her protective equipment.
"Excuse me, do you know where the gloves are?"
