Faction Jedi Coded

[Cerys Dyn]

So much was happening around them that Cerys took a moment not to focus, but to fixate. First, it was on Zahari's choice of words. Date? Cerys scoffed. Her eyes rolled and she started to protest.

She stopped herself dead in her tracks when she noticed her reaction. Zahari had moved behind Cerys, and Cerys had stretched an arm out instinctively shielding her fellow Togruta. The arm was quickly pulled to her side again.

"Well. You will...just have to graduate from Naboo instead. Not try, do," she said, words clipped and abrupt. She was tempted to add some comment about it being Zahari's first lesson, but a bird-lady interrupted her.

Cerys deferred to the senior Jedi, an archivist. For a moment, she wondered if Echo would be able to help find information on the Oathwardens. She held back on questioning the Knight, for now.

"This Order does not have a long history," Cerys said, inserting her opinion, "you will not find much about it in the archives."

There was another wince. "But...what an honour it is to be the generation that establishes the legacy." She only half believed her own spiel. Frankly, if she could find another Oathwarden, Cerys would leave Naboo immediately.

"It is most gratifiying to have met you, Knight Athoth." Gratifying was a word that pleasant people said, wasn't it?

Cerys offered a bow, before her eyes caught sight of Phillip going by. He seemed to be avoiding someone. "Padawan Slate. Your attire is in desperate need of attention..." But he was already gone. Cerys offered the Sith a shrug.

"First, Miss Kaan. Now, Miss With Cerys," she said, on the verge of making a joke. Instead, she frowned, letting the moment slip.

Pointing into the dining hall, Cerys finger guided Zahari's attention to the brooding figure of Lorn Reingard . "That is Lorn Reingard. One of the finest duelists I have ever sparred with...outside of maye Lily Decoria . You would do well to know him, and learn from him." She stopped the explanation as quickly as it began. "Come. Zahari Kaan. We have much more to see."

Without hesitation, Cerys spun on her heels and marched off to a different section of the Sanctuary.

| TAG: Zahari Kaan Phillip Slate Henbane Bosk Vodet Echo Athoth Lorn Reingard Michael Angellus |

Open to direct interaction, feel free to choose the next spot that the tour goes too

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[Echo Athoth]

Naboo
Tags: Zahari Kaan , Cerys Dyn , Phillip Slate

Echo Athoth's Locket, Epo-1 Interceptor, BB-055TN "Boston"
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"Our history may be short, but Naboo's history is vast. I would be most willing to go through it with you some time."

Echo didn't express it in her face, as she was not very emotive, but she was very excited that someone shared her love of history. She gave another dip of her head as the two resolved to continue their tour.

"A pleasure to meet you as well," Echo stated. "Do come to the archives should you require any assistance."

And then her attention was squarely on Phillip Slate .

"Have you been painting?" she asked, noting the colorful stains on the young man's robes. "I find that the acidic properties of citrus are most useful when removing those sorts of stains from clothing. Though, of all the stains you could leave in place, paint is the most visually appealing."

She did her best to offer a slight smile. Monotone as she was, it was at least an attempt to express that she wasn't being judgemental. After all, she was a bit of a painter in her free time as well.

Though admittedly she hadn't had free time in a while...

 

[Mellomere]

"Paint? Those aren't natural markings?" Mellomere appeared beside Echo.

In no way dressed like a typical padawan and instead dressed in a light dress reminiscent of the warm dirt that was carved from the seaside ledges.

Her hand extending to pinch a splotch of color on Phillip's robe to test the claim of them being something other than a natural pigment. Frowning as a she noticed the fibers.

"Oh. That's a shame." Her interest quickly dying at the realization until she spotted Cerys and a new face.

Eyes widening as the iridescent qualities of her eyes flared before settling again.

"Hello! Who are you? You have spikes on your head! What natural predators are those for? Are they really big? Or maybe they help you hear? I don't think they'd really help you swim but I could be wrong. Do you like swimming? I love swimming." Her words flying well ahead of her sense as she closed the distance between them.

Direct Interaction
Echo Athoth | Phillip Slate​

 

[Catarina Talen]

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Location: Training Course, Shiraya's Sanctuary
Objective: Meditation
Tags: Zahari Kaan Cerys Dyn Kyric

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More than her own breath and muscle, it was the Force that kept Catarina moving. Every leap, bound and landing looked more dangerous than the last - with every wild aerial maneuver, she relied less and less on her own cognition and more and more on the Force to keep her safe.

And when she stopped, tension, coiled like an overwound spring. There was a brief second where an onlooker might worry that she'd explode from all the suppressed kinetic potential...and then just as quick, she was on her feet, cool, calm, and collected, and smoothing out the wrinkles in her robes. Now that she was no longer so intensely focused on her whirlwind meditation, she could...socialize. There had been some talk - apparently a Stih convert was meant to be released from holding today. She had a responsibility, then, to make a good impression on the newcomer.

Besides that, a fellow Jedi had joined her in the training grounds already, though...

She glanced over at her fellow Knight, alone, doing pullups, situated seemingly as far as he could manage from Catarina.

Perhaps he simply wasn't in a chatty mood. She could relate.

And so, for him, Catarina offered a polite wave and a melancholy smile in his general direction.

 

[Vodet]

There was no ninja rapping at this meeting. Vodet was here on business, mostly. He did enjoy the world, and seeing the main temple of The Jedi Order was always nice. A world that had so much nature, unlike the world of Coruscant, or even Fondor, was always appealing to this Master. Besides, there were so many wise and great Jedi here. Not always warriors, but librarians and teachers as well.

Wasn’t the last Jedi Master who was green saying that wars didn’t make one great?

If only Vodet could live so long to be that level of wise. The non-sentient cousins of his in most oceanic worlds were long lived.

So long as he didn’t catch a rogue lightsaber in the side, he should be fine.

He had been this long.

Vodet’s careful, not rushed steps were soon greeted with another, and the large Yinchorri looked up with a friendly tip of his head. “Hello.” Said the reptile. He recognized the other only in the slightest, not having come across many Draethos in his day. But hearing tales.

“It is good to see someone else with years. Even the older no-shells sometimes think too quickly.” No-Shells was definitely how he referred to most humanoids. Vodet extended a large, three clawed hand forward. “They call me Vodet.

“And silence can be ones own best friend, or a way to isolate oneself from the others. My kind has done both through the years. Where do you hail from?” The robes did NOT look Naboo.

Henbane Bosk

 

[Lossa Aureus]

Robes
Bracelet | Echo Stone
Lightsaber | Turmoil
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The halls were filled with energy. Students moving through the halls on their way to whatever was currently on their schedule. A handful of new faces around. All a sort of strange lively energy that Lossa found oddly comfortable.

Zeriana was displeased by it however.

Her face scrunched against the noise, hands clasped over her ears and face buried into her mother's robe. Agitation rolling off of her that Lossa made to counteract with her own emotions. Not to mask. This phase was likely to remain for a while still, and it was better in her mind to not hide the fact.

Softening the intensity instead as she moved through the crowd. Arm protectively held around Zeriana. Moving to help her cousin greet the somewhat newer faces to arrive.

Spotting Cerys Dyn and Zahari Kaan in passing.

Lossa keeping her expression bland as she nodded to them. As others might have done, Lossa had warned Brandyn about the padawan.

While perhaps sharing more than intended through her emotional state speaking about Cerys in such privacy. Brandyn had reassured her about Cerys. Even touched base with her on occasion to update her.

Progress.

It might have been painstakingly little.

But he was reporting progress. Of sorts. She paused mid-stride as the words resonated more than she realized. Pausing to look back to Cerys alongside the first convert in their fold.

Eyes staring before narrowing slightly with a huff.

"I hate cosmic lessons."

She spoke to no-one in particular. Blinking finally as her gaze fell to the one in her arms. Lip twitching before she turned on her heel to return to her path.

Stopping again at the top of the stairs, watching Brandyn heading up the small group of

Brandyn Sal-Soren | Katarine Ryiah | Kas Larsen​

 

[Henbane Bosk]

Master Henbane Bosk

Tag: Vodet
"The Force does not ask for mastery. It asks for patience."

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Henbane's claw settled against Vodet's with a quiet firmness, the shake less a greeting and more a gesture of mutual anchoring. One didn't meet another elder in passing, you recognized them, like a tree recognizing the soil from which it once grew.

"The young speak of peace like it's a strategy. We remember when it was a prayer," he said, gently withdrawing his hand. "Henbane Bosk. Jedi, botanist, hermit, if you ask most."

A breeze lifted the edge of his moss-lined robe as they began to walk. The temple opened up in clean lines and subtle motion ahead of them- sunlight cutting through stone pillars, the sound of training sabers distant but rhythmic.

"I hail from Draethos," he continued, "though I've not stood on its soil in over six centuries. Parcelus Minor became my refuge during the plague. I lived in its green for so long I forgot how to speak in anything but stillness."

He glanced sideways, the old barklike ridges of his face deepening with the motion. "Silence is a comfort. But yes... it grows mold when left too long in the dark."

A pause followed, not awkward, but settled. Like a stone finding its place.

"You walk like someone who has earned stillness," he added. "But not someone who sits idle. May I ask—what brings you to Naboo? The waters here are calm. But I suspect you are not here to swim."

 

[Kyric]

After a few sets of pull-ups, Kyric gently began to sway forward and back to build momentum. It continued until the kiffar swung upward in a wide arc and ended in a handstand, his hands held tight to the bar below him. He exhaled deeply. His mind drifted further away from the facility back to the streets of Denon. Memories of what back then felt like endless nights chasing Ryv and Dagon over the rooftops of Seven Corners played out in brief flashes.

They treated it like a game; a means to spend the evening after a hard day's work in the bar. But time had a way of bringing about a certain clarity and Kyric knew better now. Every second they spent out in the dark leaping, soaring, and falling through the slums was all in preparation for the future—one without them.

Kyric about-faced on the bar and caught side of Catarina's gesture while still mid-handstand.

I must look like such a tool right now, he thought. Who just ignores someone else like that? Freakin' nice work, me. The kiffar carefully balanced on one hand and raised the other in greeting before he rotated a smooth 90° and dropped back down to the floor with practiced ease.

"Thank ye, Dagon," Kyric muttered, his single-eye following the echo of his missing friend as he propelled himself over unseen rooftops and out of sight completely.

When the memories faded away and Kyric returned to the training course, he considered Catarina on the opposite side of the chamber.

From the look of her, he guessed they were close enough in age that it shouldn't feel weird to approach. They were Jedi, too. Common ground usually made these things easier. But the pit forming in his stomach dashed away the simplicity of it all. Another echo of an unknown place—caught somewhere between dream and reality—surfaced.

Words spoken in a moment of vulnerability resounded through his head.

"When I envision the end of my life, it ain't pretty. I've seen whispers of what's waitin' for me. A bloodstained blade—my blade—shattered to pieces. I'm alone like my father was. Everythin' I ever loved driven into me like daggers; twisted until I scream."

He looked away from her and back to the exit.

A few quick steps would see Kyric gone from the course and away from the temple. No longer would his very presence endanger the lives of the righteous and just who walked these hallowed halls.

Hesitation is defeat.

Solipsis wanted this. He wanted Kyric to struggle under the same weight his father did; buried under a mountain of pain, embroiled in an unwinnable battle alone.

"Feth it," Kyric pivoted and wandered over as casually as a man cosplaying a mummy in Jedi training robes could. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Afternoon, ma'am. Name's Kyric—Kyric Karis. I'm new to this here order and I ain't any good at makin' friends. You wouldn't happen to be open to a bit o' socializin' would ye?"

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Tags: Catarina Talen
Nearby: Brandyn Sal-Soren | Cerys Dyn | Zahari Kaan