Wanderer
Travot wandered down the halls of the Silver Rest. Despite its name, he had never truly at home in the temple. That feeling only felt magnified by his recent promotion to master by the Council. A perpetual outsider who much preferred the outdoors and depths of space to the well-trodden paths of urbanite civilization, Travot felt more shackled by his promotion than pleased. He paused at a ceraglass pane to gaze out upon the massive forests around them. Well, if nothing else, this place certainly beats the Temple on Coruscant. It's at least easy to get away from it all with a quick walk...He sighed, just as a calm but warm voice called out to him.
"Master Ravenna."
He blinked and turned around to see Nomor, one of the few Cereans that called the temple home. Travot offered a polite bow to the jedi consular and offered a constrained smile to the other member of the Order.
"Master Nomor, it has been a while...and you are not in a library."
Unlike the susevfian, the consular broadly smiled, "Yes, I know it seems that way...always up to my ears in data cards it seems. But you know that administration is not just about understanding information. It's about understanding the galaxy, and maybe importantly, the people in it."
Travot fell in step with the man.
"I see."
But he actually did not.
The cerean gestured down the hall, "The Force guides much of what we do, if you believe in the Living Force. But I am not sure that we have fully mastered our understanding of it, even less sure am I that I think we should follow it. But there are some things that do seem meant to happen."
"Oh?"
"There is a newcomer to the Order," said Nomor carefully, "one that has not quite had the benefit of a traditional upbringing within the Order....not unlike yourself I might add."
Oh no. That had always been a slightly awkward conversation among some in the Order. Travot hadn't been discovered by the Jedi to be Force-sensitive until he was nearly a teenager, and even then, his instruction had been by an errant jedi master who held loyalty to no specific organization. That meant that he had largely learned as a padawan with learners nearly ten years younger than him, at least initially. He turned to face the cerean.
"You would like me to meet him?"
"Her," softly corrected Nomor, "she comes from a rough and trying background, not unlike yourself."
"You're thinking of me mentoring her?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps?" repeated Travot quizically, starting walk alongside the administrator.
"It can be harder to teach those who start out older....those who carry with them some baggage. You are newly promoted, but you have some similar experiences to her that many others within the Order do not have. You have some insights then that the others may not have...some mutual basis that might prove useful in her training."
"This sounds tentative."
"As gifted as I have been with past pairings, there is no certainty," mused the cerean, "not pairing must work either. If it is not meant to be, it is not meant to be. It just means that there's another match that is better somewhere else."
Travot pondered the cerean's words in silence as they walked the temple halls. Most seemed oblivious to him, and he to them. But there were a few familiar faces that caught sight of his troubled face and offered him warm but quiet greetings. He'd have to admit later that it felt encouraging. The pair approached a door, which whisked open to reveal
Amanda
. The cerean offered a bow to the girl and swept his hand from her to him, and him to her.
"Amanda, this is Master Ravenna. Master Ravenna, this is Amanda."
Travot eyed her up and down. She's probably roughly the same age I was...maybe even a little bit older? Than when I formally started training within the Order...The burly jedi thrust out a hand in a traditional handshake.
"I prefer to go simply by Travot," started the jedi, "at least in informal settings, largely because I didn't start my life within the Order here. Where are you from?"
"Master Ravenna."
He blinked and turned around to see Nomor, one of the few Cereans that called the temple home. Travot offered a polite bow to the jedi consular and offered a constrained smile to the other member of the Order.
"Master Nomor, it has been a while...and you are not in a library."
Unlike the susevfian, the consular broadly smiled, "Yes, I know it seems that way...always up to my ears in data cards it seems. But you know that administration is not just about understanding information. It's about understanding the galaxy, and maybe importantly, the people in it."
Travot fell in step with the man.
"I see."
But he actually did not.
The cerean gestured down the hall, "The Force guides much of what we do, if you believe in the Living Force. But I am not sure that we have fully mastered our understanding of it, even less sure am I that I think we should follow it. But there are some things that do seem meant to happen."
"Oh?"
"There is a newcomer to the Order," said Nomor carefully, "one that has not quite had the benefit of a traditional upbringing within the Order....not unlike yourself I might add."
Oh no. That had always been a slightly awkward conversation among some in the Order. Travot hadn't been discovered by the Jedi to be Force-sensitive until he was nearly a teenager, and even then, his instruction had been by an errant jedi master who held loyalty to no specific organization. That meant that he had largely learned as a padawan with learners nearly ten years younger than him, at least initially. He turned to face the cerean.
"You would like me to meet him?"
"Her," softly corrected Nomor, "she comes from a rough and trying background, not unlike yourself."
"You're thinking of me mentoring her?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps?" repeated Travot quizically, starting walk alongside the administrator.
"It can be harder to teach those who start out older....those who carry with them some baggage. You are newly promoted, but you have some similar experiences to her that many others within the Order do not have. You have some insights then that the others may not have...some mutual basis that might prove useful in her training."
"This sounds tentative."
"As gifted as I have been with past pairings, there is no certainty," mused the cerean, "not pairing must work either. If it is not meant to be, it is not meant to be. It just means that there's another match that is better somewhere else."
Travot pondered the cerean's words in silence as they walked the temple halls. Most seemed oblivious to him, and he to them. But there were a few familiar faces that caught sight of his troubled face and offered him warm but quiet greetings. He'd have to admit later that it felt encouraging. The pair approached a door, which whisked open to reveal
Amanda
. The cerean offered a bow to the girl and swept his hand from her to him, and him to her."Amanda, this is Master Ravenna. Master Ravenna, this is Amanda."
Travot eyed her up and down. She's probably roughly the same age I was...maybe even a little bit older? Than when I formally started training within the Order...The burly jedi thrust out a hand in a traditional handshake.
"I prefer to go simply by Travot," started the jedi, "at least in informal settings, largely because I didn't start my life within the Order here. Where are you from?"
