Private Snap Back

[Loske Treicolt]

Coruscant // Collective Commerce District // Apartment //
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Everything he does seems to come out alright ​

“Agh, shavit, shavit, shavit.” Loske cussed her way through the rising hot vapours of the pot in the basin and skipping from the sink back to the stove top that was agonizingly overheated. So much so, that whatever she’d been trying to make had caught fire and was no better than incinerated.

With steam rising from the sink, while the faucet doused what had been on fire, and the newly ashen morsels in her pan, she was starting to realize defeat. The newly burnt pan clattered into the sink alongside the other, and Loske gripped the edges of the countertop and hung her head with a long, frustrated groan.

So.. Frank drawled in his animatronic way from the position where he’d had a vantage point of the entire recipe. A spectator of the washing, the chopping, the tasting, the wincing, the spice-adding.. and now the accidental flambéing. Takeout again?

There’s a new Huttaburger that’s opened in CoCo Town.

“Stars, this is so embarrassing.” Loske dispelled her exasperation and pinched the outsides of her eyebrows in knotted annoyance. "Aren't I supposed to just like, read and be able to do things? Isn't that a perk of the whole clone thing?"

I think you used the wrong oil. Definitely the wrong amount of time.

“You’re in charge of timers!” She argued, crouching to look at the recipe Frank was projecting from his photo receptor. Hmm. Yep. There’d been quite a few things wrong with her interpretation of the instructions. And now the apartment was starting to cloud up with smoke.

 

[Placeholder 0128]

It was weird dressing like a normal person.

He'd spent he past few months bedecked in combat armor and robes that marked his position as head of state. Casual clothing had mostly gone out the window in favor of more formal attire. It was to be expected of an emperor. If one saw their leader as simply one of the common folk, many would have their faith in him shaken. It was the unfortunate reality of a human dominated society - they tended to go off base assumptions and not look into the nuance of things. There was a reason good looking people tended to be in positions of governance, and it had very little to do with their administrative ability.

Wasn't his problem anymore though. He couldn't stop staring at himself in the mirror; he almost looked alien. Much of his muscle mass had faded during his coma, leaving him looking more akin to a slightly fit average man than a battle hardened warrior. His skin was paler too, and his eyes a little more sunken than before. The bags that always hung from them were gone, at the very least.

"How times change," he murmured to himself as he pulled a simple white T-shirt over his shoulders. He'd only been home from the hospital for a day now, and had elected to take up residence with Loske rather than return to the holdings he still retained. The Graywall still stood on Ruusan, and he still had vast wealth afforded to him by his new position as honorary monarch of Coruscant. That didn't give him much power beyond showmanship, but if nothing else he'd assured a future for whatever children he might have. It was more than most men would ever dream of having.

So why was he still not satisfied?

The smell of something burning turned Cedric's attentions from that particularly frustrating question. His brow furrowed as he barged out of the 'fresher, head tilted to the side not unlike a confused Kath Hound pup.

"Hey if you wanna burn down the place for insurance money that's your call, but let me know first. Can't go running out in my pajamas." he spoke through a half-smile, hands raised in mock surrender as he drew up alongside her and Frank. He'd grown rather fond of the little astromech, which was fortunate considering he seemed to be a mechanical extension of Loske in almost every way save personality.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Frank denied being in charge of the clock.

"You're a droid. Your basic language is binary - that's pretty numerical. Timing is also pretty numeric, I thought it was like, an unspoken thing we had."

I don't read minds, you still have to tell me what you expect me to be doing.

By the time P Placeholder 0128 arrived on the scene, Frank had opened one of the windows; the smoke racing to the fresh air and dissipating out in the stream of traffic outside. Loske was doing what she could to take clouds of toxicity and convert them into something more breathable. Manipulating chemicals was hard, but after a bit of focus and studying, most constructed things -- matter or otherwise -- could fundamentally be broken down into two primary characteristics. Once she got into that rhythm, she could start to toy around more with Art of the Small.

Her concentration was broken when Cedric's voice cut the scene. At least he was sounding more normal again, the hoarseness from the bedside had been unnatural. She curled her fingers into her palms and shrugged, gesturing loosely at the ashen trail from stove top, across the floor, to sink. "The recipe said like, 5 easy steps for grilled Nuna legs. There were more steps, and...none of them were easy."

She'd been spoiled in her tenure bouncing around from different squadrons. Most organizations came with a mess hall, which never put the burden of self-sufficiency in the kitchen on her shoulders. With a little bit of downtime (approximately 30 hours), she'd tried to make up for lost time with..a terrible result.

Loske reached into the sink to remove a soggy, blackened string of..whatever it had been. Nuna. Before dropping it again with a weird squelching sound and a sigh.

"And I think you can do whatever you want now, that's one of the benefits of coming back from the dead, right?"

 

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"Yeah, I s'pose so," Cedric snickered as he leaned against the countertop, arms folding about his chest as he observed the smoking results of Loske's cooking endeavor. There were a lot of things the Jedi could teach, but the minutia of the culinary arts definitely weren't on that list. "Hey, A for effort right? Give it another year and you'll be running a cooking show with how quickly you pick stuff up."

He paused to examine the rubbery mass of blackened crust and what was probably meat at some point. That definitely wasn't going to do. "Personally I say we blame it on Frank." He added, casting the droid a momentary grin before he sidled up alongside Loske. "And then we get takeout."

There were a lot of questions he still needed to ask. The galaxy hadn't stopped moving while he was unconscious, and he was only beginning to understand this Galactic Alliance that stood where his Imperium had once been.

"So," he added, "This Jedi Order deal. Looks like it's working out. You and Ryv have really been at work, huh?"

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske grumbled grumpily under her breath about how she didn't want to give it another year. She was over it pretty quickly. Frank, of course, objected to taking the blame and defended that he'd done nothing -- which Loske promptly pointed out was part of the problem; given the timer responsibility debacle.

"Ryv's been at work." She corrected to his observation, rinsing her hands and banging her wrists against the sink to dry them before she wiped the excess on her hips. "You really lit a flame in him, and he's been busy with Peace Station and a bunch of other Jedi initiatives. A worthy protigé."

The blonde looked beyond the sink for a moment, out at the aircars outside before looking back at him. She'd tried to make food because it felt like it would be a normal thing to do, but it wasn't. There wasn't anything normal about any of this situation. P Placeholder 0128 had been on the brink of death for half a year, if not longer, and he'd only been back and "alive" for two days. She was trying to jam in routine and normalcy like fitting a square into a circle. Shutting her eyes, she exhaled a shuddery breath and bit her lip. Even if she was somewhat up to snuff with the timing, she had to respect the displacement her partner must be feeling. And she had to count her blessings that their mutual appreciation for one another hadn't skipped a beat. That had been a big fear - that when he'd woken up he'd have no recollection. No sense of reason of humanity or something would be off. It was complicated. Instead, ever since he'd woken, his personal discomfort was like a cement block at the end of their ethereal tether. She pushed off the counter in a swift movement to capture either side of his jaw in her hands and give him a deep kiss, shrugging her shoulders forward and into it. "A lot has changed," she admitted, pulling back with a lighter peck as signature, and looping her arms around his waist "And some stuff remains the same.

I don't know why I thought we could avoid talking about it, or delay it. That's not fair.

When you fell on Brentaal IV, The Imperium had to put out a distress call. Your incapacitation wasn't allowed to be a secret for long, and The Lords were quick to enact a new charter. I know you eventually wanted to grow into a Republic, things moved much quicker in that direction. Open trade conversations have been happening with The Silver Jedi, and The Republic ever since. Everyone seems amiable...and not too precious about territories and resources.

Master Morga's work at Peace station has helped dissolve borders across different Jedi sects and people are starting to adopt the vision of us verus them on a grander scale. One that's more light versus dark, rather than silos or.." she looked away to search for another word and found it somewhere between the caf maker and toaster "Pockets of ideologies. It's really helping, and I think we'll be able to put some serious pressure on oppression soon. Egos aside."

That was a pretty bad summary, there were several details within each highlight and she was happy to expand when he poked and prodded.

She withdrew, and hoisted herself to sit on the counter so she was more eye-level with his wan expression. She felt terrible. The way he looked was probably only a fraction of how he felt, and she couldn't help but try to cup his cheek in an attempt to provide comfort with a gesture.

"You said you can't see where you fit in. Why?"

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Ryv had risen above and beyond his expectations, but then barriers were made for breaking after all. One of the first things he'd been informed of upon awakening was his student's rising status among the Jedi, and the heroics with which he had led the Imperium's people in the interregnum. The next generation of Jedi was beginning to show itself, though it wore a face unlike that which he'd expected.

"I'd say the both of you. I've heard some thing about you and you starfighter squadron," Cedric cast her a grin that had the slightest hint of pride. He'd not taught her anything about flying, but she was technically his padawan, which meant he could take credit. That was another matter that needed addressing - Loske's training had come quite a long way. He parted his lips to speak on such, but Loske's sudden kiss put a stop to that rather quickly.

His eyes drifted shut as he allowed himself to fall into it. Even if the Imperium as he knew it no longer existed, Loske was still there. That was enough. "Let's keep it that way," he snickered, and listened intently.

"Hard to believe the Alliance started to work with the Republic. Like they don't remember them murdering our people," Cedric mused, though he chose not to linger on it. "I suppose cooperation is for the best. If it slows the Sith advance, then it's serving its purpose, past grudges or not."

"Wyatt would be the one to bring the Jedi together. It's good that it's all come together, it's just..." his brow furrowed. "Too fast? I don't know. Stability requires slow changes." Another pause as she asked her final question. He rested his hands on her legs and scrunched his face up in thought as he tried to find the right words.

"The Republic attacked our people to press their beliefs. That attack was spurred on by the likes of Jend Ro and his ilk after they ran their propaganda machine, and they all seem to be respected leaders in this new Jedi Order." Honesty was the best policy, and he opted for it fully with Loske. She was the only one that would ever be afforded such. "It feels wrong. I can't explain it, it's just a gut feeling."

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske had fallen into something of a psychiatrist lately. Or, at least since Brentaal IV. Maybe Kaili was right, maybe she was a good listener. It was a little funny to think about, someone who had such a limited life experience helping others unpack their perspectives. Perhaps it was one of the powers that had been baked into the fibres of her being. Either way, she found a catharsis when unravelling this sort of stuff. And he needed it. They'd forgone any discussion the night prior, using their reunion instead to catch up on other lost moments and pillow talk rather than anything overbearing. Besides, she'd accumulated a new scar she'd been keen to show off.

She winced at the recollection of the Kuat nightmare. That should have been a stalemate, but there had been something very wrong that day. "I don't disagree.." He seemed to bundle up the thought quickly though, packaging it up and setting it away on a shelf somewhere else. It was a mutual understanding, morals and grudges once again being sacrificed to the eternal Greater Good.

Any tightness in her expression while he sorted through the changes softened at the final admittance. When Cedric'd first warned her about the opinions of others, it was due in part to the public letter about The Imperium, she hadn't realized it was Jend-Ro Quill who'd penned those words. And now she was working with him to take down the Bryn'adul, alongside several other Knights and Masters, and there was no qualm. In fact, she'd found him to be pretty wise. Some of The Republic folk, especially those in parliament, she was still kinda iffy on. And The Silvers..well, she was willing to reconsider her original distaste. Mostly out of appreciation for Master Amadis; the exposure had been good for broadening her perspectives.

Her next response was tentative and quiet in observation. If he were being honest, so would she. He was close enough that he could capture a measly click in her throat; a whisper was of no concern. "They were united then, as they are now." When he'd first begun training her, on Ruusan, he'd warned her the other Jedi viewed him as a zealot. He'd seemed comfortab--- actually. She decided to talk through all of this out loud instead of trying to iron it out in her mind.

"I am not like most Jedi Loske. I am shunned by my brethren. They call me a zealot because I have dedicated my life to fighting the Sith. If you want to find a more moderate teacher, I would understand."

"When you first started training me, at the Old Oak on Ruusan, you acknowledged that you and other Jedi didn't see eye to eye. That much hasn't changed. The main thing that's different this time is that you tried to resurrect your house, your people back to their former glory and it didn't work out the way you wanted. You weren't able to see it to completion and you were met with opposition from the get go, which I don't think you were expecting." She paused for a breath, if only to let that sink in while she hunted for where her train of thought was going. Inhaling sharply, she continued. "That's a lot of yous in what I just said. It's a lot you took on, and stuck your neck out for. That can be an insulating. The way things are going now, more people are doing it together, establishing trust by sharing burdens and negotiating values. I'm sure it's not easy for them either, everyone has differences, but going on and tolerating one another is creating more unity than the galaxy's seen in...what I think is a pretty long time."

Frank was ready in the hallway with a statistic: Since perhaps the Omega War.

"I think I know what I'm trying to get at, but I don't know how to say it." Loske admitted with a wounded expression. "I guess we're both answering the question on why you're feeling on the outside.

I think you're putting yourself there."

 

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Reality hit at rare times.

The psyche of a sentient being was a complicated thing. It did not function entirely in the realms of logic, and often far from them. Identities could be built upon delusions, and acts done for any varying reason as long as the mind could find a way to justify them. In Cedric's case, he was unsure as to where the delusion began, where it ended, and if it was even there to begin with.

The other Jedi were dangerous. They couldn't be relied upon. Or perhaps they weren't, and they could be. A few decades of dogma and unpleasant experience certainly colored his judgement. Had things changed in the past few years and he'd simply not noticed? Had he chosen not to notice?

Cedric remained tight lipped as he processed Loske's words. They were ones he'd thought to himself at times, but then one event or another would quickly see his opinions returned to the norm. Was he simply choosing to stand in the way of progress, or was progress the path he'd elected to walk his entire life?

There were a lot of worries plaguing his mind, but the greatest of them was also the most personal: if Cedric was to find his place in this new order and the society it would flourish in, he would have to change.

He wasn't sure he was ready for that.

"I think you're right," he finally said. He spoke it with far more confidence than he felt. It was something he would have to mull over, though it seemed Loske generally believed in this movement. Her opinion on it should have been enough, and if staying by her side meant supporting it he would, but something still left him feeling uneasy.

"So how do I get in?"

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

As soon as she'd voiced her opinion, it'd be a lie to say she wasn't nervous to see his reaction. Which was unfair on P Placeholder 0128 's behalf. Through the entirety of their relationship, there'd been nothing less than radical candor; still, he'd been on ice for half a year. Hard to know if there were any after effects. She was relieved to see it land, and he seemed to be lost in consideration for handful of moments. In the end, he agreed and the words of wisdom she'd heard somewhere once rang true: If you were willing to change your mind, that meant you were capable of thinking. Or something like that -- irrelevant.

Her hands moved to cover his, giving a squeeze to whatever she'd been able to grip.

His question sounded like one that sounded like it should have been shared between a cheerleader and an outcast beneath high school bleachers. Or, at least that's where she imagined a conversation like that would have happened. Like in the holofilms.

She hadn't expected to be giving advice on this subject, and she wasn't sure she was suitable to. She hadn't reacted to his quasi-death the same way his other Padawan had -- who'd thrown himself into everything and captured all the right attentions -- he'd be more apt to answering that question, whereas Loske was content to continue playing a supporting role in other people's worlds. And being a psychiatrist.

"I..I'm not sure.

I don't want to be in the position of being responsible for reframing who you are, Cedric. Any changes you make have to be because you want to. It sounds like you might need to. Ah, changes might be too absolute. I think adjustments might be a better word. You have so many talents, and so much to offer - that you can do that without being the sole leader.

Do you have anyone you need to speak to? Clear the air? A lot of The Order's success is built on relationships.

The Silvers need Masters to help train their students, there's the Bryn'adul threat that needs incredible Force behind it, there are lots of ways to insert yourself. What do you want to do?"

 

[Placeholder 0128]

It wasn't a very fair question. Truth be told Cedric just didn't know where to start. He'd spent much of his life reading the histories of the Jedi, and while he understood the method by which the Order was supposed to function, it seemed to far away to be a reality. Finding himself within a hierarchy was an intimidating thing.

"Oh don't worry, all responsibility is on me." He assured, offering her an easy smile that he wasn't really feeling. "I'm going to leave my ties with the other Jedi as they are. We can work together and not be friends. I'll let my work speak for itself." That'd always been his policy in the past. More importantly, he didn't feel like crossing the gap right now. There were things that would be fundamentally disagreed upon, and if pressed might only cause more tension.

"I'm going to see to the war effort. It's where I'd be needed most, and where I'd get the least amount of people on my back. Battlefield's no place for bureaucrats." Truthfully he didn't think they had a place anywhere, but they'd be the cogs that ran this new alliance. He would have to get used to it.

"The Sons of Ession have had their time off. We've defined ourselves through service in the past, no reason why we shouldn't now."

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She smirked at his compartmentalization of duty and performance. If he hadn’t grouped himself in with his soldier squadron, she would have been curious what intentions he had with his people. They were a radical bunch, loyal to their heir. He’d been honoured as a Senator, but still a Jedi Master; a remarkable feat, and an acknowledgement to the respect of the instituted Chancellor.

“I wonder how long it will be before you have to choose again. Or if you’ll have to choose what path is for you. Bureaucracy in the lawmaking houses, or borderless Jedi.” She drew in a long breath, and closed her eyes. Loske was silent for a moment while she sorted through her thoughts. When she opened them again, she affixed her gaze to his ocean eyes.

“Ced, you have a pretty rare opportunity here. You can be the man you want to be, instead of who you were meant to be.”

Cue the lip bite.

“When you.. the entire time you were out, the chances of your survival were dishearteningly low. Especially if you asked Dak.” She offered a knowing grin at the DAC unit’s expense, but continued with the somber thought. “That was a lot of time to think about best and worst case scenarios.” Her words were carefully paced. While Cedric was waking up to a changed world, Loske had operated in it independently of him without knowing if he’d come back or not. At first, it hadn’t been easy. She’d been operating with a beating heart, sure, but it was just a muscle behind ribs for several months. Getting feeling back took time. “And who I’d be without you, and what I would do. And pleeenntty of time to feel guilty for not being with you on Brentaal.

All I could come up with was being part of this fight. Whatever name it's under. The Imperium, The Alliance, The Jedi Order -- it doesn't matter. Everyone's goals are the same now; we can't spend time disagreeing on semantics. The Alliance is leading the charge. It's the cause that fundamentally needs everyone it can get, with whatever they can bring.”

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