Private Lessons in the Force

[Isobel Serraris]

Location — Training Terrace, Shiraya's Sanctuary, Naboo
Tags — Josiah Denko
Paraphernalia — Lightsabers, Jedi Armour

It felt like an eternity since she had first met her Jedi Master at that masquerade on Naboo--at the night of scandals, dancing and socialising. While most of the evening had been spent dancing and well rolling around the floor with a friend, she could not forget the promise the older Jedi had made to her: to mentor her in the ways of the Force, and all that came with being a Jedi. That vow had become all the more necessary after the clash with the Sith on Voss. Isobel had been unprepared, unfocused, and lacking the patience every Jedi must master. Eventually resulting in a wound in her rib that had pained her ever since. She knew the theory well enough--the endless holocrons from the Jedi of Old -- but such knowledge was not guaranteed source of wisdom. It was only a means to learn the foundation and build on that with the aid of a master in the force. . . A lesson she would soon come to learn.

The first of many, hopefully.

Isobel hurried down the halls of the Nabooan Jedi Temple, a hand covering a spot near her right armpit, whilst the white armour-weave cloak of her armour dragging along the tiled floor as she ran (something she really needed to fix soon.) Of course she was late. And of course, this would be the second terrible impression she made on her Master. After all, it had been rude enough to abandon their conversation at the masquerade… just to waltz and mostly stumble with some boy. 'Twas not entirely something the Jedi she looked up to would commit to, or at least their Order's tenets forbade certain attachment. While the orders of old preached that attachment could lead to catastrophy, the Order of Shiraya had taken a more moderate stance, one which did not quite still her worries. Though that was not why she was here, she was here to learn--about whatever her master had prepared for her, and that alone was terrifying enough.

Upon reaching the tall doors to the training terrace, the young Padawan moved her hands over her robes to flatten any folds or wipe off any of the dust. She moved her braid back over her shoulder and took one last steadying breath before entering the room. "Master Denko? You asked for me?" She began shyly, before closing the door behind her. "Sorry that I am late, I-- I overslept and..." Though she sought to come up with a proper excuse, the words died on her lips--she could only offer an apologetic smile in its stead.

​

 

[Josiah Denko]

THE JEDI TEMPLE
Naboo, Mid Rim Territories

Josiah had heard her before he ever turned. A soft shuffle of boots on tile, a breath taken to steady nerves, the quiet rustle of fabric that always followed a young Padawan trying very hard to seem composed. The terrace lay open behind him, filled with the gentle hush of Naboo’s morning air. Below, the gardens stirred with the warm gold of first light. Beside him waited the marble table, polished smooth as a river stone and crowned with a simple white box that held far more delight than its plain appearance suggested.

Puffcakes. Dozens of them. The only indulgence he still allowed himself.

He remembered the masquerade with a faint pull at the corner of his mouth, something too mild to be called a smile yet too warm to dismiss. Isobel Serraris had been a flurry of color and clumsy grace on the dance floor. One moment she had been at his side, and the next she had vanished into a swirl of music and youthful bravado. He had not held it against her. The young sought life with quick hands and quicker feet, and there had been no lesson to teach in pressing a proper introduction. There was time enough for that, after all.

The door closed behind her with a soft click. Only then did he turn. He let his gaze travel from her face to the hand pressed near her ribs, then to the disheveled braid she tried so quickly to correct. The raised brow came naturally, a silent punctuation to the moment. He stepped forward once, boots striking tile in a slow, measured rhythm.

“Tardiness is the difference between life and death, be sure to be more punctual in the future.”

The words held no anger, only truth softened by the steady calm that lived in his voice. He did not linger on the reprimand. He did not need to. Lessons carried further when they were not hammered into a skull already weighed down by nerves.

He gestured lightly toward the marble table.

“I took the liberty of picking up some of my favorite before coming to the temple today. Something to mark the occasion of your journey beginning.”

Josiah shifted back toward the table, fingers brushing the lid of the box before plucking one of the airy pastries between forefinger and thumb. He leaned against the terrace railing as naturally as a man settling into familiar ground. The puffcake disappeared into his mouth in a practiced motion, an indulgence swallowed with quiet satisfaction. Only once he finished did he allow his gaze to return fully to her.

“I am sure you have questions. Before we begin, I will indulge you. If you have any curiosities, I am more than happy to answer them.”

The morning light framed him in soft gold, turning the lines of his face into something patient yet unyielding, something carved from years that had seen too much and still chose to guide another forward. He waited, steady as stone, for the first question that would shape the path she was about to walk.​

Isobel Serraris​