Private Learning the Routines

[Meri Vale]

The Academy atrium felt far too large.

Even tucked against one of the marble pillars near the outer walkway, Meri could feel the crowd pressing in—not physically, but in sound and motion. Students filled the open space in loose clusters, trading names and excitement as if they'd been waiting their whole lives to be here.

Meri stood very still.

Her notebook rested against her chest, held with both hands, its worn cover a small anchor in the restless sea of voices around her. She kept her eyes lowered, tracing the geometric floor tiles rather than the people moving across them. Looking at the patterns helped. Patterns made sense. People didn't—not in groups this big.

Now and then, someone passed close enough that she flinched inward, shoulders tightening in a nearly invisible recoil before she smoothed her posture again. She didn't want to draw attention. She didn't want to take up space. She just needed to wait quietly until orientation began.

Her braid slipped forward over her shoulder as she leaned slightly behind the pillar, giving herself the illusion of a barrier. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Too many voices.
Too many eyes.

She shifted her satchel closer to her side and tried to focus on the checklist she'd memorized for the day—class locations, required materials, the library hours—but the noise in the hall kept breaking the edges of her concentration.

A group of students laughed loudly somewhere to her right. Meri startled, just barely, her grip tightening on her notebook. After a moment, she stepped half a pace more behind the pillar, choosing the shadowed side where she wouldn't be in anyone's way.

She didn't notice anyone looking at her.
She didn't notice anyone at all.

She kept breathing quietly, trying to make herself small, unseen, and steady in a space that felt too bright and too loud.

Elian Abrantes

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Meri Vale
​

Elian had never been good at standing still.

Even during orientation, especially during orientation, he found himself drifting through the clusters of students like a small current of motion in a too-formal pond. Everyone seemed so serious, faces turned toward schedules and datapads as if the galaxy would crumble if they missed a single class listing. That kind of energy made him itch. He'd already managed to learn at least five names (probably going to forget three of them by dinner), and he'd laughed his way through a joke about how the Academy atrium had better acoustics than some concert halls on Naboo. He lingered near his group of friends, laughing and joking with each other as they always did.

That was when he noticed her.

Not because she was loud, stars, no. She was the quietest thing in the entire room. But the stillness drew his eye more than the chatter. While everyone else moved in loops of conversation, she didn't move at all. Just a small figure half-tucked behind a marble pillar, clutching a notebook like it might float her through the storm. He hesitated for half a second, enough to wonder if she wanted to be left alone. But then she flinched at another burst of laughter across the atrium, and the decision made itself.

He started toward her.

His boots echoed lightly over the tiles, the sound steady but unhurried. When he reached the other side of the pillar, he leaned just slightly so she could see him before he spoke, no sudden surprises, no dramatic entrances this time. His grin, when it came, was easy and warm, the kind that said you don't have to brace for this.

"Hey there," he said, tone light, Naboo lilt softening the words. "You look like you're solving a pretty important mystery with those floor patterns. Should I be worried?"

He gestured down to the tiles as if ready to take notes on whatever secret map she'd found. Then he straightened a little, offering a hand, palm open in friendly introduction.

"I'm Elian. Elian Abrantes." He smiled again, an easy, unguarded sort of smile, and added, with mock seriousness,
"Promise I'm mostly harmless. Unless we're near a pastrie buffet. Then all bets are off."

He waited there, patient and bright-eyed, giving her space to respond but making it clear she didn't have to stand in the corner alone.

"What's your name?"

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri hadn’t heard his footsteps over the noise of the atrium—not until he was already close enough that his shadow shifted against the pillar. She startled, just slightly, breath catching in her throat as she turned.

A stranger stood beside her.

Not loud.
Not looming.
But there—bright in a way the room already had too much of.

Her grip tightened reflexively on her notebook, and for a heartbeat she couldn’t seem to make her voice work. His joke washed over her before her mind fully caught up, and she blinked down at the tiles as though seeing them for the first time.

“I wasn’t—um… I’m not solving anything,” she said quietly, words tumbling out too quickly at first before she forced herself to breathe. “I just… didn’t want to be in the way.”

She risked a glance up, her gaze flicking to his offered hand and then away again, unsure if she was meant to take it. People shook hands here, didn’t they? Or maybe that was only formal introductions. Or maybe declining would be rude—

Her fingers uncurled slowly from her notebook, and she gave his hand the lightest, briefest shake imaginable, barely more than a touch.

“I’m Meri,” she managed, voice soft but steadying. “Meri Vale.”

His smile was warm enough that it loosened some of the tightness in her chest. She didn’t know what to do with the part about pastries, so her answer came out small and sincere.

“I… don’t think you seem harmful.”

A beat passed.
Her cheeks warmed.

“That was probably not the right response,” she murmured, flustered, shifting her weight just enough that her braid slipped forward over her shoulder.

Her attention dropped again to the patterned tiles—easier to face than bright eyes and easy laughter.

“I’m—um—new,” she added, as though that explained everything. “To all of this.”

But she didn’t retreat back behind the pillar.
Not yet.

She stayed where she was, notebook hugged lightly to her chest, because even though she wasn’t sure what to say next… Elian didn’t feel like someone she needed to hide from.

Elian Abrantes

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Meri Vale
​

Elian's grin only deepened, though not in mockery. There was something endearing in the way her words came out all tangled together, like she was trying to hold a conversation and a runaway train of thought at the same time.

He tilted his head slightly, taking half a step back to give her space, his tone softening but never losing its bright edge.

"Well, I'm relieved," he said, pretending to exhale in great relief. "I've been told I give off a strong 'snack table menace' vibe, but you seem immune. That's promising."

The little spark of humor was deliberate, gentle, easy. He could feel the weight she carried in her posture, the careful way she stood as though any sudden motion might draw the world's attention. Elian leaned one shoulder against the pillar beside her, posture loose and unthreatening, eyes flicking briefly to the open atrium beyond.

"First day's always chaos," he said conversationally. "Feels like someone decided to put half the galaxy's students in one room just to see who would melt first." His voice dropped in conspiratorial warmth. "You're doing better than most. I saw a kid earlier trying to find 'Room 2B' and walked straight into a fountain."

Elian's grin flickered into something halfway between pride and mischief. He straightened a little from his lazy lean against the pillar, running a hand through his snow-dusted hair as if he were about to make a formal announcement.

"Well," he began, voice carrying that familiar blend of humor and self-assurance that somehow never tipped into arrogance, "Since we're doing proper introductions, Meri Vale, you're talking to something of an engineering prodigy around here."

He gave a mock bow, one hand sweeping low in exaggerated ceremony before straightening with a laugh. "At least, that's what the instructors keep telling me. Probably because I've managed to build more things that don't explode lately."

The spark in his eyes said he wasn't entirely joking.

"Another two years," he continued, tone turning more earnest beneath the playfulness, "And they'll finally let me out into the galaxy. Starship, propulsion arrays, anything that hums or glows, I want to see how it all fits together out there."

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri wasn't sure what she expected him to say, but it certainly wasn't that. The bit about being a "snack table menace" made an unexpected, fragile laugh escape her—barely a sound, really, more a small breath that softened the tension in her shoulders. "I…wouldn't have guessed that," she said, gaze dipping briefly to the floor again. "You don't seem…menacing."

If anything, he seemed the opposite—all brightness and easy confidence, like someone who belonged comfortably in whatever space he walked into. She wondered what it felt like to move through a crowd without shrinking from it.

When he leaned against the pillar instead of stepping closer, a quiet knot in her chest loosened. She wasn't sure if he meant to give her space or if it was simply his usual way of standing, but either way, she could breathe a little easier.

The mention of a student walking into a fountain made her blink, then glance around the atrium as though half-expecting a sodden victim to stagger past. "That sounds…awful," she murmured, though the small flicker at the corner of her mouth suggested she also found it a little funny. "I hope they're all right."

But then he straightened, making some grand, sweeping introduction of himself, and Meri's eyes widened slightly. The mock bow, the flourish—it wasn't mocking, but it was directed at her, which immediately made her wish she could disappear into the pillar behind her. "Oh—um—" Her fingers curled tighter around her notebook. She didn't know the correct response to a theatrical introduction.

When he explained—engineering prodigy, no longer blowing things up, future starship expert—she found her voice again, quiet and earnest. "That's…impressive," she said softly. "I mean…building things and making them work. I've never been very good at that. I like studying how things were built, but not…actually building them." She paused, then added, almost sheepishly, "I'm glad your things don't explode anymore."

A beat passed before she realized how that sounded. Her eyes widened again. "I mean—not that I think you're dangerous! Just—just that it must be…nice. To improve. And… not have things explode." The words unraveled into a whisper, and she wished she could gather them back into her hands and reorder them correctly.

Still, she looked at him—really looked—and there was a soft, genuine note beneath her fluster. "It sounds like you're meant for it. The galaxy, I mean." She hesitated, then dipped her head in a small, shy acknowledgment. "I hope you get there."

Elian Abrantes

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Meri Vale
​

Elian's laughter came easy, warm and quiet enough not to draw attention from the crowd, but bright enough to cut through the din of voices echoing off marble. He didn't laugh at her, never that, but because there was something irresistibly sincere about the way she stumbled through her words and still tried to make them right again.

"Careful," he said lightly, one brow lifting in mock warning. "If you keep being that nice about it, people will start thinking I've matured."

His grin softened into something closer to admiration. "Understanding the why of things, that's rarer than people think. Means you've got patience. And a good eye. The galaxy needs that just as much as it needs another fool like me trying to wire thruster arrays from memory."

He caught himself smiling again, almost to his own amusement. "And for the record," he added, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial aside, "There's no shame in avoiding explosions. I still have one eyebrow that grows in at a slightly different angle thanks to my 'learning period.'" He teased about the eyebrow part, more so just to get her to loosen up a bit.

He straightened a little then, and his tone, still light, but sincere now, shifted just slightly. "You know, not everyone here's meant to build engines or lead expeditions. Some of us are meant to notice things. I guess the way you do."

For a moment, the noise of the atrium faded in his awareness; it was just them, the sound of their quiet conversation beneath the bright murmur of the hall.

When she wished him luck, he smiled, really smiled, the kind that reached his eyes and softened the playful lines of his face. "Thanks, Meri Vale," he said gently.

Then after a small beat of silence it seemed that the orientations were starting to get underway, there was none for him, as he knew where he was going. "Elian! Come on, let's get going! We got class!" Elian looked over to see Ellema and Jalen calling for him. Elian giggled and waved at them, before turning back to Meri.

"Well, hey, I gotta get going. I might see you at lunch if you wanna sit with us? Unless you have something else planned. Just followed the loud voices in the mess hall and, thats all of us." Elian laughed as he jerked his head towards the group of two that were there. Where, Ryn and Tressa were, he had no idea. They must've already taken off to class.

"I'll see you at lunch!" He smiled and waved at her before he took off in a jog after them, placing his arms around Ellema and Jalen and pulled them close with silly hug, ignoring the mock protest that soon turned into laughter.

 

[Meri Vale]

When Elian jogged off to join the others, the noise of the atrium seemed to swell back into place, as though his presence had carved out a quiet pocket she hadn't realized she was standing inside until it vanished.

She lifted a hand in a small, hesitant wave he probably didn't see, then let it fall gently back to her side.

Orientation began shortly after—voices echoing through the hall as instructors spoke about safety procedures, course outlines, expectations, and schedules. Meri stood near the back, notebook pressed lightly against her ribs, absorbing every word with the same quiet concentration she'd used studying ruins.

She understood the rules easily enough. The part she didn't understand was where she fit between them.

When the crowd dispersed for morning classes, she followed her schedule with careful precision. Not because she needed to—she already knew where each room was—but because the structure kept her from thinking too hard.

The classes themselves passed in a blur of datapads, names she couldn't quite catch, and voices that rose louder each time someone forgot they were in a shared space. No one was unkind. No one singled her out. But Meri still felt the way she always did in new places—like she was a half-step out of rhythm with everyone else, just enough to notice it.

By midday, the corridors were again filled with students heading toward the mess hall. The sound carried even from where she stood at the far end of the walkway—bright laughter, clattering trays, conversations layered on top of conversations—a tide of voices with no quiet place to land.

Her fingers drifted to the edge of her notebook, brushing the frayed corner the way someone else might reach for a charm or a stone. Elian had said she could sit with them at lunch. He'd said it casually, warmly, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

But what if the noise swallowed her whole? What if she couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't…be the way other students seemed able to be?

She lingered at the threshold of the hall, the scent of warm food drifting out in waves, the chatter spilling louder every time the door opened.

She wasn't sure which unsettled her more—the idea of sitting alone…or the idea of trying to sit with others.

Meri drew a slow breath.

She would try.
She wanted to try.

But for now, she stayed there in the quiet just outside the doorway, gathering the courage she wasn't entirely sure she possessed.

Lunch would come soon enough.

Elian Abrantes

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Meri Vale
​

Elian had been halfway through a conversation with one of the instructors when he realized he was late, again. Typical. But one question about power converters had turned into a five-minute detour through starship theory and an impromptu demonstration using someone's datapad.

By the time he jogged into the corridor toward the mess hall, the air was already thick with the smell of hot food and the sound of half the Academy trying to talk over the other half. He slowed when he saw her, Meri, standing just outside the doorway, framed in the soft spill of light and motion. She hadn't gone in yet.

Something about the way she lingered there, still as a breath in the storm, made him smile.

Quietly, well, as quietly as someone like Elian could manage, he tiptoed up behind her, hands tucked behind his back, and leaned just close enough to murmur.

"Boo."

Elian immediately burst out laughing, then winced, realizing how loud it sounded in the corridor. He held up both hands in surrender, his grin sheepish now. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Stars, I'm terrible about that."

He took a quick step back, still chuckling but with clear regret softening the edges. "I swear, I do that to everyone. Sibylla gets the worst of it. You looked so focused, I couldn't resist, and now I feel like a total villain."

The laughter faded into something gentler as he caught her flustered expression. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking properly contrite. "Didn't mean to scare you, Meri. Just, wanted to say hi. And, uh, rescue you before the cafeteria eats you alive."

Then, after a beat, his grin returned, bright and inviting, but careful this time.

"Come on," he said, gesturing toward the hall. "You still gonna sit with us right? I promise, no more ambushes. At least until dessert."

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri didn't scream.

But she did jump—a small, sharp flinch that tightened her shoulders and sent her notebook slipping in her hands before she caught it again. Her breath snagged; her pulse thudded hard enough that she felt it in her throat.

She blinked up at him, wide–eyed and very still, as if her brain needed a full second to catch up to what had just happened.

"Oh," she breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "You—um—you startled me."

The understatement of the century.

She looked down quickly, absorbing the embarrassment in the familiar refuge of the floor tiles. Her fingers found the frayed edge of her notebook, smoothing it over and over again in a quiet attempt to steady herself.

But then she heard the guilt in his voice—genuine and warm and a little frantic—and something in her eased. Her shoulders uncoiled, just slightly.

"It's…It's all right," she murmured, and a tiny, flickering almost-smile tugged at her mouth. "You just…came out of nowhere."

She glanced toward the dining hall as he gestured, the rising noise pressing at her from a distance like a wave she hadn't decided whether she could walk through.

"I was… trying to figure out where to go."
A small confession, soft but honest.

When she looked back at him, the noise behind her didn't disappear, but it didn't feel quite as crushing—not with someone standing beside her who looked at the chaos like it was an adventure, not a threat.

"If…" She swallowed, trying again. "If you don't mind, I could…try sitting with you. And your friends."

Her fingers tightened a little around the notebook, but she nodded once—tentative, but real.

"Just…please don't say 'boo' again."

There was the faintest glint of humor in her eyes—shy, fragile, but unmistakably there.

She waited, ready to follow his lead into the storm of voices, because somehow, with him, it didn't feel impossible.

Elian Abrantes

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Meri Vale
​

Elian's expression softened the instant she spoke, guilt flickering across his features like a cloud over sunlight. The laugh that had bubbled out of him a moment before faded into a sheepish, rueful grin.

"Yeah…" he said, dragging a hand through his hair. "That one's on me. I've been told I have terrible impulse control when it comes to harmless mischief." His voice dipped, lighter again but careful this time, measured to meet her calm tone instead of overwhelm it. "I promise, no more 'boo.' Not even the quiet kind."

He mimed locking his lips and tossing an invisible key, the grin returning in that crooked, self-teasing way that always seemed to make the world around him a little less sharp.

When she mentioned she was trying to figure out where to go, his shoulders relaxed. "That, I can help with," he said easily. "Cafeteria navigation is a crucial survival skill. There's a current you have to swim with, or else you'll end up in the dessert queue for eternity."

He glanced toward the mess hall, then back to her. "We've got a table near the window. And my friends aren't too bad. They'll probably try to get you talking about your favorite subject within five minutes, but I can run interference."

He shifted to her side rather than ahead of her, angling his stance toward the door like an invitation rather than a push. "Ready?" he asked with an encouraging grin. "I'll even go first, in case of sudden snack-table ambushes. We engineers have to lead by example."

Elian steered his tray down the serving line, making split-second decisions the way only a perpetually late student could. A quick pile of nerf roast, a scoop of spiced grains, and something that vaguely resembled stew, it all landed in an organized mess across his plate. He snatched two drinks on impulse.

"Mission success," he said, lifting his tray like a trophy. "Food secured. No explosions."

Leading her through the maze of chatter, Elian glanced back now and then to make sure she hadn't gotten swallowed by the crowd. When they reached the table, four faces looked up, each different but threaded together by the easy rhythm of familiarity.

"Everyone, this is Meri Vale," Elian announced as he set down his tray. "She's new, and I've already promised to make her regret sitting near me by the end of the semester."

Ryn Halden leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Ah, another victim of Abrantes' charm. You poor thing."

Tressa Vaylin grinned wide, brushing crumbs off her sleeve. "Don't listen to him, Elian's only dangerous if you give him tools. Welcome, Meri!"

Across the table, Jalen Raithe offered a polished nod that somehow managed to look both formal and amused. "Pleasure to meet you. Anyone surviving their first day without tripping over an instructor deserves recognition."

And finally, Ellema Kesse looked up from the small mechanical part she'd been fiddling with. Her cheeks went a little pink when her gaze darted from Elian to Meri. "Hi," she said softly, smiling shyly. "It's nice to have another face who appreciates… quieter company."

Elian plopped into the seat beside Meri, flashing her a reassuring grin. "See? Told you they were friendly." He nudged her gently with his elbow, voice low enough for just her to hear. "Told you it wouldn't be so bad."

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri hesitated at the edge of the table, the noise of the cafeteria crashing in around her all at once now that she was fully inside it. Trays clattered, voices overlapped, laughter burst and faded in uneven waves. It felt like standing too close to the ocean—beautiful from a distance, overwhelming when it surrounded you.

She stayed standing a heartbeat too long.

Then Elian sat, and somehow that made it possible for her to move.

Meri slid into the seat beside him, careful and precise, setting her tray down as quietly as she could manage. She folded her hands together in her lap for a moment before remembering that people usually did things with their food. Slowly, she adjusted the tray, aligning it with the edge of the table as if that small order might help her find some of her own.

Her shoulders were still tight, but she nodded when Elian introduced her, the gesture small and earnest.

"H-hi," she said, voice soft but clear enough to carry across the table. Her gaze flicked briefly from face to face—not long enough to linger, just enough to register smiles, tones, intentions. Friendly. Curious. Not sharp.

That helped.

"A-and…thank you," she added, the words aimed generally at all of them but landing closest to Tressa and Ellema. The warmth in their greetings eased something in her chest she hadn't realized she was holding.

When Ellema spoke, Meri's eyes lifted again, just for a second longer this time. She offered a shy smile in return. "I…like quiet," she admitted, almost apologetically. "But…I'm trying to learn the louder parts."

Ryn's comment earned a blink of surprise, then the faintest huff of a laugh before she could stop it. She ducked her head quickly after, embarrassed by the sound as if it had slipped out without permission.

Elian's quiet nudge grounded her. She turned slightly toward him, lowering her voice in the same way he had for her.

"I was worried," she confessed, barely above the hum of the room. "About lunch. I didn't know where I was supposed to fit."

Her fingers curled briefly around the edge of her tray, then relaxed.

"But…this is okay," she said. Not loud. Not confident. Just honest.

She picked up her utensil at last and took a careful bite, the chaos of the cafeteria still loud and unsettling—but no longer something she had to face alone.

Elian Abrantes

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Meri Vale
​

He leaned an elbow on the table, turning just slightly so his shoulder angled toward her rather than the room. "Hey," he said, low enough that only she would hear, "For what it's worth, that's pretty much the whole trick. You just show up, eat something vaguely edible. Everything else you pick up as you go."

Across the table, Tressa was already mid-story, describing in dramatic detail a first-year mishap involving a map, a mop droid, and a flight instructor who had not appreciated being mistaken for a supply crate. Ryn threw in sarcastic commentary at exactly the right beats, and even Jalen cracked a grin as he pretended to keep the conversation dignified.

Elian nudged his fork toward the chaos of their chatter. "See? Half of them are terrible influences anyway." His tone was teasing, but his gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat longer. "You fit fine."

Then, louder, enough for the rest to hear, he called out, "Hey, Ryn, Meri's already decided you're not that scary. That's a new record, right?"

Ryn rolled his eyes. "Give it an hour, Abrantes."

Tressa laughed, waving her utensil like a flag. "Ignore him, Meri. The secret is to let Elian handle the talking. He can fill a room faster than a faulty coolant line."

"Which is why you all keep me around," Elian shot back, mock-offended.

The laughter that followed was easy, unforced, rippling through the group until it reached Meri too. When it did, Elian had hoped she would be smiling, the nervous or uncertain one, but the smaller and laugh that was real.

Elian glanced over to her and grinned to himself before returning to his meal.

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri listened more than she spoke, but she listened thoroughly—to the cadence of voices, the way jokes overlapped without colliding, the rhythm of familiarity that made the table feel like its own small orbit amid the chaos of the hall.

Elian's quiet aside settled somewhere steady in her chest.

She nodded once, a slight motion, but her mouth curved just slightly in response. Not quite a smile yet. More like the beginning of one.

When the table erupted again—Tressa gesturing wildly, Ryn sighing in theatrical defeat, Jalen offering dry commentary—Meri flinched out of instinct, then caught herself. The sound wasn't sharp. It wasn't aimed at her. It was just… noise shaped into something warm.

That mattered.

She glanced at Elian when he spoke for her, surprise flickering across her expression. Her eyes widened a fraction at his comment to Ryn, then she ducked her head, embarrassed—but there was a hint of amusement there too.

"I—" she started, then stopped herself, inhaling quietly the way she always did before speaking in groups. "I…think 'not scary' might be generous," she said softly, voice nearly swallowed by the laughter around them. "But…manageable."

It earned her a grin from Tressa and a mock glare from Ryn, and Meri felt something unfamiliar but welcome bloom behind her ribs.

Belonging. Or at least…proximity to it.

She focused on her food again, taking another careful bite, shoulders slowly easing as the conversation rolled on without demanding anything from her. Every so often, she glanced up—at a joke landing, at someone laughing too hard, at Elian leaning back in his chair like he owned the space without trying to.

When another ripple of laughter passed through the table, Meri surprised herself by letting out a quiet sound of her own—not loud, not confident, but real. She covered it reflexively with her hand, cheeks warming, then peeked sideways at Elian.

"…This is okay," she murmured, mostly to herself.

And for the first time since stepping into the mess hall, the noise didn't feel like something she had to endure. It felt like something she could sit beside.

Elian Abrantes

 

[Elian Abrantes]

Meri Vale
​

"Yeah," he said gently, his tone low, warm. "It's more than okay."

He meant it.

For all his usual brightness, the jokes, the easy confidence, the way he filled space without thinking, he knew what it looked like to feel adrift. The first time he'd walked into this same mess hall years ago, he'd joked his way through the noise because it was easier than admitting how loud it all was. Watching Meri now, finding her footing without hiding, felt like watching someone do the same in her own quiet language.

Elian leaned back, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched Tressa nearly knock over her cup while trying to prove a point to Ryn. "You're doing great," he added under his breath, not to embarrass her but to let her know he saw it. "Trust me, half the people here are just pretending they know what they're doing."