Private Soul Food

[Aaran Tafo]

Location: Coruscant Lower Levels

It was sometimes easy to forget that ultimately, Jedi were servants of the people. In a Galaxy of quadrillions, those who had heard of them would usually picture austere monks spouting mystic wisdom, or perhaps hypocrites with plasma swords using foul magics to have a stranglehold over the Senate. The Force was created and spread by life itself, so Jedi, as servants of the Force, would naturally seek to do their best to improve the quality of life for all sentients.

The only limitation was the fact that the New Jedi Order only had dozens of Knights in its service. Not hundreds or even thousands like the Orders of old. But thankfully, the Jedi did not have a monopoly on compassion. The Church of the Force were one such organisation that was similarly devoted to such altruistic ideals. And thankfully, they had a much larger organisation than the New Jedi Order. And with greater membership, one could simply accomplish more, work on a larger scale.

Which included various forms of charity work. Be it medical aid, construction, counselling or in the case of the current affairs going on the lower levels of Coruscant, a food bank.

Such was where Aaran found himself, mostly doing simple grunt work. Moving boxes, organising supplies, helping with distribution. Occasionally giving pointed looks to those who would try to take advantage of charity as well as that one time some gang members wandered by looking for 'protection' money.

That last one was a mildly entertaining break in the evening. Showing up bullies always puts a smile on his face.

"Nida." He called out from the back room, trying to catch the attention of the Zeltron up front dealing with the populace. "Mind popping back here for a bit, I need a hand." It was good to hear from the Perl again. The only knowledge he ever got from the girl was the occasional snippet of information from Yula, but that member of the Perl clan was hardly one to divulge details so freely, especially for such a touchy subject regarding another one of Carnifex's brood.

But hey, Aaran wasn't one to fold a grudge over something that happened so long ago. Nida served her sentence, seemed genuinely sorry for what she did and was trying to make up for it. That alone spoke volumes. After all, it took far more inner strength to accept help than it did to reject it. And Nida took the hand when it was offered to her.

That is what mattered in the end.

Nida Perl

 

[Nida Perl]

Coming to Coruscant had been a big step in and of itself. One side of Nida was relieved when she hadn't burst into flames upon making planetfall, the other side knew that her work was only beginning.

As anxious as she was about being ill received by the Alliance, Nida was pleased to participate in charity work at the lower levels. Master Tafo had welcomed her without a hint of spite, something that had put her at ease.

"Aaran too, he's a good one. You should talk to him if you can."

It never ceased to amaze Nida how her sister—the self declared "not a Jedi"—was on friendly terms with so many actual Jedi.

The food bank was busy, and Nida was grateful for that; it allowed her to focus on the tasks in front of her and less on her own nerves. Still, when Aaran called her from the store room, she found a measure of relief in leaving the floor. It was crowded and hot, and fortunately they'd found enough bodies to distribute supplies and ladle soup. Unknotting the strings of her apron, she pulled the garment over her head and placed it on a hook at the wall before entering the storage area. It was cooler here, refrigerated to keep their perishables from spoiling.

"What can I help with, Master Tafo?" She asked simply, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt over petite wrists.

Aaran Tafo

 

[Aaran Tafo]

As she entered the far cooler storage area, she'd find Aaran standing over an exceptionally large crate that had just been dumped in the loading dock, opened up, revealing a great number of packages fitted inside, packed together tightly. He turned over to Nida as she entered, brow crinkling slightly in distaste. "Please. Don't use titles, not while we're doing this. Just Aaran is fine."

While acting as a servant of the people, he always found specific titles to be irrelevant. Jedi was a fine one to use if people really wanted. But he'd rather they just identify him as someone who wants to help. In many ways it was a far more powerful and meaningful identity than the title of Jedi.

Please it was really weird to be identified as 'Master' when dealing with the public. Unless it was obviously clear that he was a Jedi, he usually received a number of odd looks that ranged from wary to disgusted depending on the context.

It was usually very embarrassing to explain sometimes.

Once Nida had made her way over, he'd make a sweeping gesture to the crate, the packages were colour coded, but they were either a pale blue or grey in colouring. Marking carnivorous or herbivorous meal packages respectively to be distributed for people to take home. There was no uniformity to their placement, seemingly stacked randomly.

“I swear, who designed these things without any labelling?” He looked at the invoice, informing him what the products were. As well as their number. But nothing beyond that.

Normally, this wouldn't be an issue for anyone to sort, if perhaps a bit time consuming. But for Aaran, it was a herculean task. His Sight was limited, distinguishing such fine detail of colour was beyond him. At least beyond the level of focus he deemed appropriate for working in some back room.

"Mind helping me sort these?" He said, reaching up to tap his sunglasses. "Can't really tell the difference between similar tones." He asked, figuring that Nida would accept, if only to work in the much cooler storage room over the stuffier serving area.

"Just... help make sure I don't mix these up." He really would hate to send someone home with the wrong meal. Some poor hungry Zabrak ready to dig in only to find nothing but vegetables that their body could not digest would hardly be pleasant. And he was hardly going to break the sealing of each package or peer deeply enough to check the contents of each one. He'd be dealing with a monster of a migraine, especially when it was far easier to just ask for a hand and save some effort.

Pulling out two smaller boxes for each type of package to be distributed into, he slid one of them over to Nida.

"So... Coreworld life treating you well? You staying with Yula or do you have your own place?" He'd admit he was curious to see how she was adjusting to life outside of prison. Most relapses happened because the former inmates didn't have a good support network on the outside.

So it wouldn't hurt to ensure that Nida was being properly cared for.

Nida Perl

 

[Nida Perl]

Nida nodded. Just Aaran, then.

"Of course." Glancing to the Jedi when he'd tapped his shades, Nida tamped down any curiosity she had about his condition, fearing that it may come across as intrusive and unwelcome. Was he born without sight, or did he lose his vision to an injury? Or perhaps he simply had Miralukan blood.

Reaching into the proffered box, Nida retrieved two packages and held them up to compare. Her brows furrowed. "Could they have…not used more distinct labeling?" She queried softly, but made no further mention of the frustratingly similar colors. Food was food, and if they had to sort it manually then so be it.

She almost flinched at the segue, or rather, at the personal circumstance that had lead to it. It was unavoidable, but Aaran was kind so she didn't mind as much.

"I stayed with my fiancée on Midvinter while I recovered. After that, I lived with my mother on Zeltros for several months, then made my way to Denon. They were most accomodating, but I didn't want to burden Yula and Dagon for long." It was a small apartment and a full house, yet Yula was insistent on making room for her younger sister. "They helped me gain clearance to stay at the temple, so that's where I am right now." Many signatures had been required, including those who'd overseen her deprogramming and recovery. Even now, her residence was contingent upon the continued support of certain Jedi and good behavior.

Nida squinted at the grey label affixed to the package in her hand. The Alliance felt like the best place to repent, considering she'd executed a Senator in an off-the-books mission. Even now, that thought was still difficult to swallow.

"Everyone I've met here has been most gracious with me, considering the circumstances." She placed the meal pack in the box they'd designated carnivore. "The feeling is quite different, though. After my…sentence, I spent some time traveling the outer rim as a physician. Nobody knew me there." Nobody knew what she'd done. It was freeing, in a sense. Tackling the guilt she had and working to become a Jedi again- that task seemed herculean.

"I suppose that the accountability of being in the core will be good for me." She tried for a hopeful smile, but it just seemed...sad.

Aaran Tafo

 

[Aaran Tafo]

"They could have absolutely used more distinct labelling!" Aaran said emphatically, tapping his fingers on one of the boxes, brow visibly wrinkling as he tried to discern the differences in color now that Nida was aiding in the sorting. He could call upon the Force in greater strength to discern it, but he wouldn't do so for such mundanity.

Even as he listened to Nida, he worked at a much slower pace, needing to pause and compare his work with the Perl's, nodding along as she continued her explanation of what she had been up to. His brow only rising slightly at the mention of a fiance. Good for her that the relationship persisted past her imprisonment.

Granted he was always on the fence about Jedi having relationships in the first place. There was so much risk involved in such relationships, was it really worth the emotional rush of being with someone you care for if said feelings coudl cause you to indulge in darker passions and hurt those closest to you?

Sure, some Jedi could find a balance. But more often than not, they couldn't. They were unable to find peace within themselves and their attachments and relationships led them to ruin.

Nida was one of the lucky ones. From what he could gather, her loved ones were instrumental when it came to pulling her from the grasp of her gene doner, because that's all Carnifex was, not her father. Not kin, not someone who would have influence over who she was as a person. Blood never defined you, choices did.

"Know that you're free to stay for as long as you want." The implication hung in the air. Be it either as someone who was healing or if she wished to once again take up the mantle of the Jedi. Nida was welcome in that temple, anyone who wished to contest it would have more than a few people willing to back her up.

"That said, I should probably introduce you to another friend of mine. Amani." He mused, mind drifting to the Mirialan medic as he continued to slowly sort. "She went through similar trials that you did. Even wandered the outer rim working as a healer." Tangled with the dark side, went cold turkey from the greater galaxy, then returned to reinvent themselves.

His face then scrunched up into a frown. "I hear she's also dating royalty." He turned his gaze to fully look at Nida now. "Is that a healer thing? If I learn first aid will I have a beautiful princess fall into my arms? Because if so, I might ask for some lessons. "

An odd change in the topic of conversation, sure. But he might get a reaction from her, a giggle, a smile. Something to distract her from the morose thoughts of her tragedy so she could instead focus on a brighter future.

Nida Perl

 

[Nida Perl]

Nida tried to stifle a giggle from behind a package of vegetarian noodles, cheeks blushing faintly. For a Zeltron raised among the Perls, she was surprisingly conservative. Yet she and Thidas had a fairy tale romance; boy meets girl, they fall in love, girl turns on a dime and stabs boy in the chest while vowing to annihilate his family.

…eventually, girl gets ahold of herself and boy forgives her.

Ah, romance!

"Perhaps. It is always a good idea to learn first aid." Straightening herself out more, an unmistakable smile of amusement had curved her lips. "Maybe you'll save her from the clutches of a nefarious pirate gang—just like Deputy Law." The old holoshow had more episodes than anyone could count, chronicling the adventures of Deputy Law, a galactic anti-hero gunslinger. Nida had been a little young for the show, but Yula had let her stay up past her bedtime to watch it sometimes. Without their mother noticing, of course.

"Amani Serys? The Mirialan healer, correct?" It had taken a moment for her thoughts to catch up to the initial spark of recollection. "We crossed paths a few days ago, actually. Near the infirmary." She peered over just a bit, assessing the boxes they'd been sorting into for accuracy. Satisfied, she reclined back. "Did you know that she and I were both in the Silvers together, yet had never formally met?" They'd likely even worked together, but it was difficult to make a new friend when you were extracting wounded soldiers from an active battlefield.

Those days seemed so far away. It had been years since she'd seen a warzone, though prison had been its own type of struggle.

Feeling a bit more at ease and thus conversational, Nida tentatively ventured forward.

"How long have you been with the NJO for, Aaran?"

Aaran Tafo

 

[Aaran Tafo]

"Maybe you'll save her from the clutches of a nefarious pirate gang—just like Deputy Law."

"Do I have to save her while she's tied up on speeder train tracks? I think that's a good way to make anyone fall for you. " He queried back, continuing with the back and forth. Remembering that one episode, distant memories of watching reruns back home before he had been picked up by the Jedi.

"And yes, Serys, former Silver just like the both of us." He casually dropped, mentioning his own former membership of the Silver Jedi Order. "Lot of us around that apparently never bumped into each other. Pretty wild if I'll be honest." He had left the Silvers when he was fairly young, still as a Padawan. There was no dramatic throwing in of his robes, no denouncement to his teachers. He just got in his ship one evening and burned sky until he saw lines all the way to the Core.

He had no interest in remaining part of an organisation that was so passive even after being attacked on Kintan. Who could blame him, he was young, his blood boiled with the urge to fight for what he believed in. A fire inside him that was cooled and tempered after actually experiencing war firsthand. But it simply made him more determined to fight, each conflict proving to him that Jedi could not stand idle and ignore the Sith.

"So, the thing is, I was very much in with a bunch of founding members. I was here helping out in the Core before the Alliance itself even properly formed." He said, shrugging slightly.

"But then I wandered off for a bit on my own soul searching journey of self-discovery - as many do- and found the New Jedi Order here officially formed when I returned." He made a so-so gesture with his hand. "So to answer your question. Its complicated."

Things had a habit of changing around. The Galaxy never stood still, a constantly evolving theatre where everyone had their part to play and each one was equally important.

"And that's the last of them." He finally said, as Nida slid in the last of the boxes, the blind man moving to stand up, his back letting out a series of popping noises in protest to it being straightened out after a sustained period of kneeling down.

"I don't know about you, but I feel like going on my break. Wanna grab lunch?"

Nida Perl

 

[Nida Perl]

"You too?"

Nida had been surprised to learn that so many of the NJO members had their origins in the Silver Jedi. It made sense- the Silvers had been the only large Jedi resource for so long, outlasting smaller galactic powers. She'd never bumped into Aaran there, but he'd likely left for the core before she'd even been inducted as a Padawan.

As far as Nida was aware, the two orders maintained something of a cordial relationship, extending a hand when it came to combating the swelling sith influence on their borders. The proactiveness of the NJO was part of what attracted her to Coruscant.

Nida blinked into the empty box between them, so engrossed in their conversation that she hadn’t realized they'd been nearing the end.

"Oh." Gurgles of agreement sounded from her stomach at the mention of food and her cheeks bloomed fuchsia. "S-sorry. Lunch sounds great. So long as it's not…light blue or grey." Rising slowly, she gestured to the pre-packaged meals they'd been sorting. Heck, even those were starting to sound good right about now.

They'd left the cooler before that temptation could deepen, and Nida carefully fell into step beside Aaran. Despite their size difference, she did not shrink- perhaps because she was so used to accompanying Thirdas and his Valkyrie build.

"I will be honest, I didn't not expect to be accepted so readily by the NJO. Especially so considering that I…dispatched a Senator." Her voice though even, was lowered as they meandered into a more common area. It wouldn't matter anyway, as their conversation blended into the background of so many others.

Aaran Tafo

 

[Aaran Tafo]

For a man lacking eyes, he wove through the busy crowds of Coruscant without issue, melding into the thriving ecosystem of the city planet like a perfectly fitting piece of a puzzle. Submerging himself in the tide of people as just another face in the crowd with the relatively tiny Zeltron at his side.

His head quirked slightly to the side as she mentioned her dispatching of a Senator, face frowning for a moment as he tried to recall the half-remembered details of her initial defection. Because if he did remember things correctly, said Senator was a rather nasty piece of work. Slavery was rather illegal in Alliance space after all, as it was in most of the Superpowers that currently dominated the Galaxy.

And if what he heard was correct, it was a murder in self-defense. And to be perfectly honest, while Aaran would never advocate the murder of others, or any ending of life without a damn good reason. A darker and more cynical part of his mind did note how often it seemed that when Jedi went after politicians, they always seemed to be the worst sort and while their actions were not precisely justified, they were at least extremely understandable.

Fossk being one of the more notable recent instances of this turn of events.

He shrugged slightly. "Far as the Law is concerned, you've served your time. " There wasnt really much else society could legally do to her. She repaid her debt, behaved well in prison and then decided to go right back to healing people. Regardless of one's personal stance on the matter, having any Jedi still hold a grudge against her rather implied that they held themselves higher than both the court and their peers.

And besides, if everyone rejected her, where would she go? One was basically just asking for her gene donor to swoop in and snatch her up, starting the whole mess again.

"You're not the only member of the Order who's been in a bad situation." He reassured her, sparing a soft smile. She was trying, trying to heal, trying to do right by herself and others. And being surrounded by empaths who could quite honestly sense that she was trying to atone would in turn foster a better environment for her to heal in. "So don't worry, people here get it."

"Now, do you like Sushi? Because there's a great Atrisian place nearby that does amazing sushi and I've been craving some for a while now."

Nida Perl

 

[Nida Perl]

"You're not the only member of the Order who's been in a bad situation."

Nida had not been the first Jedi to stray from the path—even if stray was putting it lightly. Countless others, many of whom were more powerful and well trained than she, had succumbed to the Dark. Some had found their way back, others did not. Nida had been violently yanked back to the Light, an event that left her near dead and bedridden for weeks. She had to wonder, if Kyra and Thirdas hadn't been there to pull her back…where would she be right now?

It was a lot to work through. But she had so much support—her family, and now several Masters among the Order.

Doing her best to return Aaran's smile, albeit awkwardly, she spoke.

"I will try to remember that."

The mention of food caused another chorus of gurgles from her stomach. Placing a hand on her abdomen, she only blushed faintly this time. "Sushi sounds fantastic. My sisters and I used to order Atrisian when our mother worked late." She chuckled quietly at the fond memory. "At first, I was hesitant to try more than rice. My sisters were more adventurous, eventually they got me to try different dishes."

Aaran Tafo