Faction Summer Sanctuary Soirée (Royal Naboo Republic)

[Casaana]

Shiraya's Sanctuary x
Royal Naboo Republic

The evening bugs cried their songs out into the valleys of the mountains as swooping birds feasted their fill in the golden light of Naboo's sun as it dipped towards the horizon. Out past the training grounds, a normally meditative clearing was a bustle of activity as Jedi prepared a summer cook out. A way to unwind for an evening and break up the monotony of training, missions, or campaigning for the Republic. For some, like Casaana, it was a chance to meet the members of the Shiraya Order and introduce herself. Others would no doubt run into old friends to catch up with or remember old times.

Casaana had joined one of the people grilling, helping put together skewers of meat and vegetables when she wasn't stealing a bite for herself or sipping at berry punch. It was safe, helpful, and out of the way, letting her work with her hands while pretending to be sociable. It wasn't that she was anti-social, she liked people plenty! Just in an abstract sort of way and not all at once. So she made herself useful, helped set out lanterns for when dusk inevitably fell, and tossed an apron on over her casual Jedi tunic to join in on the simple pleasures of cooking.

Someone had started a fire, and younglings ran by with sparklers and squirt guns as music started up. Casaana paused in her work, looking up to take in the mountain side clearing, the people out enjoying themselves, the distant waterfalls, and smiled to herself. This place was truly beautiful.

 

[Kudau]

.​

Outside Shiraya's Sanctuary, Naboo
Royal Naboo Republic

​

The landscape of Naboo was one that was unfamiliar to Kudau, far from the tall, lush forests on his home planet. It was almost staggeringly beautiful in it's evening hue, the horizon and sky emitting a kindness that was almost indescribable in any Shistavanen dialect. As he gazed out into the horizon of the setting Naboo sun, he could almost hear the force's reassurance that the planet wasn't a dream. His lupine ears flicked as he heard the alien birdsong and buzzing of smaller, tiny insects. His nose, as strong as it was, could pick up the smell of food, flame, and fellowship coming from the sanctuary.​

​

He then focused his attention back on the sanctuary entrance in front of him. He had heard of the event from locals, as well as the occasional poster hanging from a street lamp. This... Soirée?... would be a new experience from him, as he had never been around such a large group of people, likely all better used to crowds than he was. He didn't have the grace and poise of the Jedi who frequented the event, but he trusted his experience with the force in order to not look a fool, and the prospect of finding guidance in the force or even fellowship with people like him in the busy sanctuary enticed him. He stepped in and began walking towards the grills just as dusk was beginning to fall.​

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

Journal Entry:
.

I didn’t know what to expect when I showed up. Some kind of formal thing, robes and rituals maybe—like half the Order stuff I still feel like an outsider to. But it wasn’t that. Not tonight.

There were lanterns strung up between trees like constellations fallen to earth. Younglings ran past with sparklers, laughing like the war had never touched them. Music drifted through the clearing, not loud, just… present, like something alive. And the smell—grilled meat, roasted vegetables, fresh fruit. It reminded me of simpler days, before everything shifted. Before I was drafted into legacy.

I spotted Casaana at one of the grills, apron over her tunic, sneaking bites between assembling skewers like it was second nature. She seemed at peace in a way I don’t understand yet. I envy that. Not because she fits in—but because she doesn’t force herself to. She’s just there, and somehow that’s enough.

I shook a few hands, nodded to a couple of instructors from the Flight Academy who were invited. With them, it’s different. Clear structure. I know who I am in that world—Michael Angellus, trainee pilot. Son of a hero. Heir to a name that earns salutes and hushes rooms.

But here? Among the Shiraya? I don’t know what I’m supposed to be. A Jedi? A warrior? A bridge between galaxies and the Force? I’m not sure I feel the Force like the others do. Not the way they talk about it, anyway. It’s quiet with me—like it's watching me figure things out before it says anything.

And still… I want to be part of this.

There’s something about this Order—about how they move and speak and feel the world—that calls to me. It’s not duty. It’s not legacy. It’s something else. Maybe something that belongs only to me, not my father, not my family. Me.

I sat near the edge of the clearing for a bit, watching the sun drop behind the cliffs, casting everything in gold. It hit me then—this place, these people… they’re not what I was trained for, but maybe they’re what I need to become something more.

Not a replacement. Not a shadow. Just… me.

I’m not there yet. But I will be.

— Michael

 

[Isla Reingard]

​

Isla drifted into the clearing like a leaf caught in the wind, soft steps, unsure footing, stomach growling just loud enough to make her wince. She tugged absently at the edge of her over-long sleeves, her brown hair pulled into a haphazard braid that already had pieces escaping to tickle her cheeks. Her eyes, wide and wondering, scanned the clearing with that far-off look she got when half her brain was in the present and the other half was stuck sorting visions like misplaced puzzle pieces.

There were too many people. She winced a little and blinked hard to anchor herself back into her own skin. Okay. Food first. Then people. Or, no. Wait. People make food. So... people first. Ew.

She spotted the grill with someone roughly her age and started toward it, drawn by the promise of something grilled and skewered and probably edible. She paused just shy of the grill, hands awkwardly clasped, eyes shifting from the skewers to the girl, then back again.

"Hi," she said, a little too loud, a little too fast, as if she'd launched the word out of a slingshot. "Are you… new? Or have I just never seen you around?"

She smiled, tentative and lopsided, like someone trying out being confident for the first time.

"I'm Isla. Sorry if that was weird. I'm kind of hungry and I didn't want to stand around pretending not to be until Phillip shows up, but he's late and I think I smelled mushrooms so now I'm here. Also you have nice eyebrows."

…Nailed it.

Casaana​

 

[Lossa Aureus]

The Sanctuary was a place for all in its own way.

For some a place to train. To reflect on themselves along with the knowledge shared. Others a place of rest and calm to soothe a mind troubled by various things. To some it served as a sort of home. A place of, for lack of a better word, sanctuary for their own journey through life.

For Lossa however, it was a place that held a tangible distraction from the worrisome fears that attempted to devour her once more.

Those that journeyed to the Netherworld had brought back both grief and joy.

Zeriana had been returned. The short few months that she had been missing had been disheartening in every way. Her own independent searches having brought nothing but dead ends and false leads. Brandyn had brought news to her about a lead, and she had held onto that hope tightly.

Patience had been the most difficult task. Trusting others to bring her daughter back rather than go herself.

Pushing past the distrust she had allowed to fester in her heart to remain behind.

To be elsewhere.

But they had not brought her daughter back as she had known her. The paradoxical flow of time in the Netherworld had taken from Lossa something far greater than she had anticipated. Self deprecating thoughts amassed with no end in sight as she looked over the child in her lap.

Zeriana was silent as a grave watching everything around them.

A far cry from the six-month old Lossa had laid eyes on before she had been kidnapped. Now two-standard years and taking in the world around her. Flinching at sudden noises or movements despite everyone's best efforts. The only reassurance anyone had that Zeriana had not retreated back into herself was the child's silent stare to observe what they were doing.

This particular even both mother and daughter were dressed for comfort in robes of dusky purple. Dark enough that the two began to hide on accident in the failing light of day on their bench watching over the gathered people below.

Lossa's hand, having finally been accepted without a fuss, protectively wrapped around Zerianas side as they listened and watched. The touch allowing Lossa to discern the currents of her otherwise quiet daughter's feelings as the night began to creep upon them.

@DM first​

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Cerys had lost count of how many times Brandyn had told her to "get out and mingle" lately, like she was some loth-cat meant to be trotted out at every Temple event to prove she could still purr when poked. She was here, wasn’t she? That ought to count for something.

The clearing was lit up like a festival. There was music, food, sparklers, all the things that made her feel vaguely itchy beneath the lekku. Her montrals subtly twitched at every squeal of a youngling, every clatter of a drink set down too hard, every burst of laughter that wasn’t meant for her. She hated how easily it made her want to retreat.

She spotted Michael not far off, brooding in that quiet way of his, eyes on the horizon like the answer to the galaxy’s pain might show up in the sunset.

"You clean up alright," she muttered as she passed him, voice dry but not unkind. It was the closest thing to a compliment she could manage without it feeling performative.

Then she saw her. Lossa. Cerys’ shoulders stiffened. She didn’t break stride, didn’t even glance in the mother’s direction, but her feet subconsciously shifted path being wide, arcing, absolutely away. That shame still clung to her like smoke. The memory of her thoughts, cutting and cruel, when she learned a Jedi had a child. She had never apologized for her behaviour that day. Maybe she didn't know how.

Focus.

She made her way toward the grill, zeroing in on two figures, Casaana and a girl who looked like she’d sprinted halfway through a conversation with herself before arriving. Cerys stopped awkwardly beside them, folding her arms across her chest like they might ward off the awkwardness.

"Evening," she said, voice low and a little too rough. She cleared her throat. "Smells good. Thought I’d… check in. See if, uh…"

Her words fumbled. She hated this. "You need anything hauled, chopped, lit on fire? I'm… good at fire."

She didn’t smile. But she didn’t scowl, either. It was a start.

| TAG: Lossa Aureus fyi only, Casaana Isla Reingard Michael Angellus Kudau |

​

 

[Ala Quin]

The air was warm with promise, thick with smoke, spice, and the sweet laughter of children. Naboo always had a way of making the simple feel sacred. Ala’s sandals barely made a sound as she crossed the soft ground, curls spilling across her shoulders, her expression soft with affection and alight with that unmistakable inner glow.

Her heart was full. Full of laughter and light and something brand new, something quiet and terrifying and beautiful. Lorn. The thought of him made her smile unconsciously. He was going to ruin her composure one of these days. And she'd let him.

But tonight was about her people. Her Order. Her little found family.

She spotted Michael first, off near the edge of the gathering, posture thoughtful, eyes on the horizon. “You don’t have to stay on the edges, you know,” she said gently as she approached, voice full of invitation. “I’m not making you, I promise…but you should come and have some fun. The Force knows we’ve all earned a little.”

Her hand touched his shoulder briefly, comforting, encouraging, and then she continued on.

She passed the trio at the grill and couldn’t help the delighted little twinkle that bloomed across her face.

“Isla Reingard,” she teased, hands resting on her hips with playful mock-reproach. “Love the hairstyle. Almost at my level.”

Ala turned her attention to Casaana and her voice lifted with genuine warmth. “Hi! You must be Casaana. I’ve heard such kind things. Thank you for helping tonight. It smells amazing over here.”

Her eyes landed next on Cerys, and the tone shifted to something a little more knowing, almost proud.

“I’m really glad you got some time with Balun,” she said quietly, but earnestly. “He needed it more than he probably realizes yet. Maybe you two should spar sometime? I think he’d learn a lot.”

And then, turning just slightly, her hand lifted to wave to the Shistavanen just arriving at the edge of the gathering.

"Greetings, stranger!”she called to Kudau with a bright grin. “There’s food, music, and good company. We only bite if asked nicely.”

She continued her circuit slowly, not ready yet to sit, her body still humming with the restless joy that had taken root in her chest. Lorn. Stars above, how was she going to tell Isla?

| Casaana Isla Reingard Kudau Lossa Aureus Michael Angellus |
​

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

Journal Entry:
.

I was watching the sun fade behind the ridgeline, counting stars as they blinked into view. People behind me were laughing, shouting over the crackle of fire pits and music that had gotten louder as the sky got darker. I thought I was fine where I was—on the edges. Just observing. Just thinking.

Then Aun…. Master Quin found me.

“You don’t have to stay on the edges, you know,” she said, voice soft like it didn’t want to scare me off. “I’m not making you, I promise…but you should come and have some fun. The Force knows we’ve all earned a little.” She didn’t read my thoughts, she didn’t try to put me in my place, she didn’t even try to coax me into anything, she just reminded me to be a person once in awhile.

She put a hand on my shoulder. Just for a moment. Warm. Steady. Then she walked away like it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was.

I stood there for a minute or two longer, pretending not to care. Pretending I was too deep in thought to be pulled in. Truth is, I was just afraid. Not of the people. Not of being awkward. I’m used to that. I was afraid of feeling like I didn’t belong again. Of walking in and hearing the silence that follows when people realize you’re not one of them. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t do anything to deserve it, right?

Right?

But I remembered something Connel told me once—after a training run where I’d overthought every move until I practically got myself knocked out.

“You can’t out-think your way into feeling. You’ve gotta live some of this, Mike. Get out of your head. Let the world surprise you once in a while.”

And something my uncle Caltin said too, when we were watching a thunderstorm roll in off the ocean back home:

“The edge isn’t always where you find balance, kid. Sometimes it’s just where you wait too long to jump.”

So… I took a breath.

And I walked in.

Didn’t make a big scene. Just found my way over to one of the tables and helped pass out cups. Got teased by a couple of younglings with water blasters. Ended up ducking behind a grill with Orlo, another Padawan, who handed me a berry skewer like I’d always been part of it. Ala caught my eye from across the firelight.

I didn’t dance. Not yet. But I laughed a little. I let myself be here. It felt… new. Like flying without coordinates. A little terrifying. A little free.

Maybe I can belong to both worlds. Or maybe I don’t have to choose. Maybe the Force is okay with me figuring it out one breath at a time.

— Michael

 

[Casaana]

Oh poodo, how did she have three people talking to her? Isla had come up, and was nice. Reminding Casaana of herself actually, once she was comfortable, and bringing out a smile that lit up her face. "Hey! Yes! Probably both?" She answered as she hadn't been on Naboo for more than a few days. "Casaana," she introduced herself and handed over a cooked skewer before running a finger along one of her brows. "Thanks? I do nothing to them even though people say I should try to look prettier. I like your braid! I bet it'd look really good up in a crown. Who's Phillip?" She handed Isla another skewer fresh from the grill as an older Togruta lady with an intense look approached and offered to help out. She got a skewer passed to her too.

"Mmmmm, nope!" She looked around her little workspace. "Everything's cut, but you can help cook!" Actually, abandoning the hot grill sounded like a good idea. The cool mountain air was nice, but her face was toasted plenty enough. She was mid-way though pulling the apron off over her head when the third blew through like a summer breeze with a compliment for them all before she was off again. "Who was that? Who's been talking about me?" Casaana blinked in wonderment. Maybe she'd meant the food. "Are you a good duelist?" She asked Cerys and looked towards Isla to get her reaction to everything as she absentmindedly turned the cooking skewers over on the grill.

Isla Reingard | Cerys Dyn | Michael Angellus | Ala Quin | Lossa Aureus | Kudau​

 

[Kudau]

"There's food, music, and good company. We only bite if asked nicely."

The young woman smiled at him, setting his mind at ease. He tried to respond, but all too quickly she was already wrapped up in her duties as a hostess. The understanding of such responsibilities were lost on him, as his family had no visitors at all from what he could remember. The kind, community-positive atmosphere presented by the soiree was different, but a good kind of different. It reminded him that no matter how difficult his journey may be, he should always find time to rest and recuperate. The people he noticed coming in seemed ready for a break, like they had all been on their own journeys, and were just coming in to take a load off. While his journey was just beginning, in them he saw what he wanted to be, and he was driven further to pursue a life worth coming home to...

As more and more people filed into the area, Kudau noticed the small party gathering around the grill. Almost immediately, he smelled the reason for their coagulation: several meat skewers, cooked to perfection. He had been surviving the past few days on rations and various small morsels he had enough credits to purchase, so a proper meal sounded heavenly at the moment. He turned to walk towards the commotion, his cloak billowing slightly with the light breeze.

As he got closer, he could eavesdrop on various conversations:
"I'm… good at fire."
"Everything's cut, but you can help cook!"
Kudau was pleasantly surprised by their familial and communal disposition, as finding such positive relations, without the pretense of a blood relation, was new to him. However, it eased his mind enough to try and get a bit of meat from the group...

"E-Excuse me, could I get a meat skewer, please?" He asked, hesitantly at first, before finding his confidence.

 

[Isla Reingard]

​

Isla's brain short-circuited in the nicest way possible.

Casaana was nice. She was funny and normal and handed her food like that was a perfectly natural thing to do when meeting someone for the first time. Isla clutched the first skewer like it was a diplomatic gift from the Queen of Naboo herself and looked down at the grilled vegetables like they were sacred. "Casaana," she repeated quietly to herself, storing the name with care in the Important People compartment of her brain. "You absolutely don't need to look prettier. That's like putting glitter on a flower. Not that glitter's bad. Glitter's fine. Forget the glitter."

She blinked. "Also, Phillip's my best friend. You'd like him. He's very Phillip. Tall. Quiet. Reads too much. Probably hiding in a tree somewhere, thinking about ethics."

Before she could spiral further into an Ode to Phillip, Cerys appeared like some kind of beautiful thundercloud, offering to light things on fire in a tone so serious it made Isla instinctively hide her sparkler.

And then Ala arrived.

Isla went completely still as her teacher swept past. "Love the hairstyle," Ala said with all the casual power of a lightning bolt to the chest.

Isla made a noise that could only be described as a high-pitched "HUP!" and immediately tried to fix her braid, as if her fingers could suddenly knit it into something worthy of a Jedi Knight-slash-cosmic-goddess. "It's not frizzy! It's not even, this was intentional chaos," she muttered, frantically tugging at strands, cheeks going cherry-red.

"Do you think I should've done the loop thing? Or like… braided stars into it? Does Ala know how to do that? Do you think..." She abruptly realized she was talking to the skewer instead of Casaana and shoved it into her mouth to save face. A mushroom fell off. Tragedy.

She turned to Cerys again, eyes wide and still a little dazed. "Are you a good duelist? You've got serious fire-duel energy. Not, like, fire danger. Fire cool. Like… efficient fire. Like, toaster fire." She nodded solemnly. "That's a compliment, by the way."

And then...

"E-Excuse me, could I get a meat skewer, please?"

A new voice. A boy. A fuzzy guy. Isla turned slowly to behold the Shistavanen like someone who'd just been handed a live myth. Her mouth opened slightly. "You're so soft-looking," she blurted, because honesty was a disease and she was terminal.

Then, realizing how that sounded, she looked skyward and muttered, "Phillip, I swear if you're hiding in a tree and laughing right now, I will drop-kick your philosophy books into the lake."

Casaana | Cerys Dyn | Kudau | Ala Quin | Phillip Slate​

 

[Phillip Slate]

Tags: Lorn Reingard

Kark! Kriff! Bantha-Poodoo! I'm going to be late...I'm going to be late.

Funnily enough, Phillip was not hiding out in a tree. He had been working on his own training, doing some self training by himself to try and had lost track of time. He had needed to get changed out of his training uniform, and didn't have much time to tidy up afterwards as he came rushing over towards the little soiree that was going on. It was hot. Phillip wasn't a fan of that, especially after his training but he wasn't going to grumble about it.

At the very least, one of the younger Padawans soaking him with their squirtgun gave Phillip an excuse for why he looked so...soaked right now. He made his way over towards the group of somewhat familiar and not so familiar people. Giving the strangers like Kudau and Casaana a small wave. Cerys would get a more energetic wave, even if she was basically still a stranger to him. Michael and Ala got a double-handed wave whilst Isla got...a thumbs up. Of course, he was grinning like an idiot at her as well, but it was mostly just a thumbs up.

"Last time I checked, I wasn't in a tree. No. And I'm not laughing...Not yet at least. I'm just late. I had...things to do. That needed my attention. I lost track of time."

His grin broke out a little bit wider, as he was fighting the urge to start chuckling away. This was...a better group meet up compared to the one at the fair a while back. Less noise. Less chance of Phillip freaking out. For now, he turned his attention over towards Kudau and Casaana, giving them a small smile.

"Phillip. Isla's already probably told you stuff about me."

Phillip smiled away to himself, doing his best to be as social as he could. He wasn't good with strangers but he was moving out of his comfort zone. He had to push himself.

 

[Kudau]

"You're so soft-looking,"

Well, if Kudau needed any other indication that he was not on his homeworld, he ought to call the whole journey off! The young girl's remark was a far cry from the usual comments about his appearance he got from his family. He tilted his head and squinted, a mix of both initial surprise and eventual confusion as he tried to make sense of the words just spoken to him.

He picked up her name from earlier conversations. Isla, a name he ought to remember. He noticed the genuine curiosity in her expression when she spoke to him, or rather, blurted out her... compliment? In terms of fur care, he does little more than the average Shistavanen male, but if she thought it soft an fuzzy, it was of no matter to him. After all, her genuine curiosity and admiration were far better for his confidence than getting weird stares and glares.

Then, Isla looked up, muttering about a boy named Phillip, as Kudau just started to notice the other girl around Isla's age, Casaana. Just as he was about to introduce himself to her, the "Phillip" mentioned by Isla joined the conversation. Phillip seemed to know Isla quite well, however, in his silent observation, Kudau realized the growing awkwardness shared by Casaana, Phillip, and himself. It became obvious him that the trio all had their quirks when it came to interacting with others, even with other force-sensitives (however, none of these important to Isla, who seemed to be having fluid conversation with everyone at once). For Kudau, his weakness in conversation was his inexperience, not having ever been around another person adept in the force.

Dwelling on this for a moment, Kudau decided to use one of his strengths: relying on his straightforward methods of conversation. He cleared his throat and introduced himself, continued the conversation, and he even threw in a few complements...

"You can call me Kudau. Phillip, Casaana, and Isla, right? It's nice to meet you. I greatly appreciate the food..." He finally took a skewer and began eating. "I take it you must be padawans, yes? You have a lovely temple..." His gaze roamed over the architecture as he ate, enjoying his conversation.

 

[Ala Quin]

Ala lingered longer than she intended. The sky had faded from rose to indigo, lanterns casting soft halos over the grass, flickering like stars had fallen just low enough to whisper to them. She stood quietly now, hands loosely clasped behind her back, taking in the warmth of the evening and the lives blooming around her.

Michael had found his way into the circle, not because she asked, but because he let himself. She caught his laughter—unpolished but real—and her heart stirred. He's trying, she thought. And the Force loves that most of all.

Kudau, brave and awkward and wide-eyed, was speaking with the others. His hesitation had softened into curiosity. She saw it in the way he held himself now, more present, less guarded. He'll find something here... maybe someone. Maybe many someones.

Casaana, sleeves rolled up, still worked the grill like it was second nature, gently anchoring others through the simple grace of hospitality. Isla clung to a skewer like it might save her from her own words, cheeks still red from Ala's teasing. It had been just a joke. But the way Isla had reacted…Force, she was dear.

Cerys looked uncomfortable, of course. But she hadn’t run. That was its own kind of strength. Ala made a mental note to praise her for that later, quietly, so no one would hear and she wouldn’t roll her eyes too hard.

Phillip’s grin shone like a second sun, and somehow Isla hadn’t combusted from it. That, too, was growth.

She took a long, slow breath. So much newness. So much light. So many stories just beginning. And for once…she wasn’t wandering through them. She was part of them.

A few younger Padawan rushed by with sparklers. One nearly bumped into her, giggled out an apology, and disappeared again into the soft chaos. Ala smiled, then stepped aside from the path and gave the sanctuary one last glance.

“I’ll see you all soon,” she said, softly. No announcement. No wave. Just a promise, carried on the breath of twilight.

And then she slipped into the trees, like a flame settling to ember.

| EXIT | @All | See you when I get back|
​

 

[Casaana]

Maybe handing out food was a secret super Force Power, everyone wanted to talk to her and was super nice. Like this Shistavanen, who she gave two to, careful not to get juice on his fur as she double-handed them over. "There you go!" He only asked for one, but he looked big, so he got two. Isla was being nice too, saying how she looked pretty, and that made her happy too. She didn't like messing with her hair, preferring to keep it short and just brushing it out in the mornings and before bed. But then the other girl was talking about her own hair, and what to do with it, and then toasters and fire to Cerys.

Then Isla told the big man how soft he looked and Casaana had to agree, and since his hands (and maybe mouth) were full and Jedi were so understanding, she reached out to stroke along the exposed part of his forearm. "Nice to meet you Kadu. Do you use the same shampoo as your head? Or is there like a special body fur wash?" She asked with the innocence of the young and the boldness of insatiable curiosity. Casaana didn't give Phillip any food, instead turning down the nearly empty grill and coming around to get a better look at Kudau. She'd seen aliens her whole life, but he was her first Shistavanen, and she found his strange legs fascinating.

"Sweaty things?" She asked the new boy, Phillip, as he appeared. Maybe he was doing something interesting and not a bookworm hiding away like Isla said. That'd be neat. Then she could have someone to do fun stuff with or maybe help her work on stuff. Then something Kudau said struck her and she turned back to him. "What do you mean 'your temple'? Isn't it your temple too?"

Isla Reingard | Cerys Dyn | Michael Angellus | Ala Quin | Lossa Aureus | Kudau | Phillip Slate​

 

[Kudau]

The last question took Kudau by slight surprise, not initially fully understanding what Casaana meant by the question. As he pondered it, he came to a realization...
"Oh, but I'm not a part of the order like you... in fact, I wouldn't even call myself a Jedi. I may use the force, but I do not follow the same teachings as you. A lot of what I know about the force comes from my own trials and errors with it. I managed to understand it enough to interact with it and even defend myself with it, but there's still so much to learn. In fact, I came here to do just that: learn more."

He smiles and nods, feeling confident in his answer, before remembering the other question, "Oh, and I dry-clean more often with some powdered talc, but when I do wash up, I use a full-body shampoo."

Casaana

 

[Cerys Dyn]

Cerys stiffened. The question hit like a glancing blow to the ribs. It was sharp, irritating, and impossible to ignore.“Are you a good duelist?”

A breath caught behind her teeth. Her back straightened, shoulders drawn taut as beskar cord. She didn’t look at Casaana. Not directly. Not when the flicker of memory came unbidden: Bastion’s arena. Sweat. Noise. That Sith—grinning through her lies and dirty tricks, pretending it was all fair and square. That infernal smirk from Kivah still stung more than the bruises.

"I am not as good as I should be." She said to boh Casaana and Isla.

Cerys took the skewer she was offered with practiced hands, nodding silently. Her montrals shifted as she tried to find her footing again, not in combat, but in conversation, which was somehow worse.

To Isla, who was all nerves, she offered a wry smirk. "Toaster fire?" she echoed, dryly amused. "I’ll take it. Better than ‘refuse fire,’ I suppose."

A nod went to Phillip, who waved too enthusiastically for someone who likely had heard she preferred three feet of personal space at all times. Still…she nodded. Just once. A peace offering. Or maybe a truce.

Kudau, the towering newcomer with fur and nerves alike, earned the same. She gave a nod, and a quick glance at his claws. Capable. That was good. They’d need capable in this galaxy.

Then, she looked back to Casaana, still all open gestures and effortless warmth, and still somehow infuriatingly pleasant.

"I’ll cook," she said, gesturing toward the grill. Her voice was low, clipped, but not unkind. "You’re toasted enough."

She moved behind the grill without waiting for permission, settling into the space like she would a well-rehearsed kata, safely behind something hot, something practical. The skewers hissed as she turned them with care, the scent rising to meet the night air. Fire was simple. Predictable. Honest.

Unlike people. Unlike feelings. Unlike whatever this tightness was that curled in her chest whenever someone smiled at her like they meant it.

She didn’t want friends. Not really. It was not her Jedi way. But the grill was warm. The stars were out. And no one had asked her to leave. That was enough. For now.

| TAG: Michael Angellus Casaana Kudau Isla Reingard Phillip Slate |
| OOC: Please consider Cerys as your personal chef for the rest of the thread, I will see it as an exit. |

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[Isla Reingard]

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Isla looked around at the suddenly very real campfire drama she had accidentally become the center of and blinked, slowly, like a sleep-deprived owl trying to parse intergalactic tax law.

Everyone had said things. Like, actual things. Deep things. Or mysterious things. Or things about shampoo.

Phillip showed up with wet hair and an apology, giving her a thumbs-up like that was a sufficient response to her spiral into public hair-crisis. Kudau, bless him, had not only accepted her accidental compliment about his fluffiness with supernatural grace, but answered Casaana's fur-wash question with science.

Isla, somehow, was still chewing the same mushroom from five minutes ago, her brain going full static.

"Okay," she said quietly to no one in particular, eyes ping-ponging between friends and not-yet-friends like she was playing emotional holochess on six boards at once.

She turned to Kudau first. "I like you. You're calm. You talk like a wise traveler in a story who probably has secret powers and will eventually save a village. And I think it should be your temple. If you want it to be."

Then, finally, she turned back to Phillip. And just…stared at him.

"You look like someone threw you in a pond."

She paused.

"I'm glad you're here."

Another pause.

"But you do look like a wet towel learned philosophy."

And with that, she flopped backward into the grass near the grill with a sigh like she had just given birth to all those sentences. The stars were peeking through the twilight above them now, and the smell of cooking food made everything feel a little less fragile. Her sparkler finally fizzled out in her hand.

She didn't mind.

Casaana | Phillip Slate | Kudau | Michael Angellus​

 

[Phillip Slate]

Tags: Casaana Isla Reingard Kudau Michael Angellus

Phillip blinked to himself at the...conversation about shampoo he seemed to be walking in on. That was...one of the weirdest things he had listened to in a while. It just made him smirk to himself as he shook his head. The idea of using...powder to wash up instead of an actual shower or bath seemed strange to Phillip. Washing was always important to him...then again, it wasn't common for people to be working with paint as much as he did. That's when he clicked onto Casaana's question at least, blinking to himself once more.

"Oh...No...I was just...painting. Like usual. Isla can tell you. I'm alwaaaays doing something artistic."

A nervous grin came to his face. Phillip was always terrible at lying. He always had to make some kind of face whenever he did, as if it physically hurt him not to tell the truth. It was why more often than not...He just stayed silent. You can't be lying if you said nothing at all, right? Why was he even lying about training in the first place? Phillip didn't quite know himself. He shook his head either way and glanced over towards Kudau, giving a short shrug.

"Isla's right. If you want this to be your Temple, there's nothing stopping you. I mean...there might be a bunch of paperwork, and they'll have to sort you out a room. But that's not too hard. I think. Or you could end up getting a Master who takes you off world."

And with that, he then turned his head over towards Isla, tilting his head at her for a moment as if he had just noticed something new about her, in the meanwhile as she said he looked like a philosophy learning wet towel.

"I mean...it's better than being told I look like a wet blanket. There's something more...complimentary about being compared to a towel...Also, have you done something different with your hair? It looks nice."

Well. It did appear that Phillip had at least some comment to make about the hair crisis, as a little cheeky grin spread across his face. He wasn't overly fussed with not having something to eat. Casaana had seemed busy when she was cooking, and even with Cerys taking over the role of cooking, Phillip didn't want to be a bother. He could grab something when he got back to his dorm...There had been those nutrient bars he had been looking at...They could make for good training snacks...

 

[Michael Angellus]

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Journal Entry:
.

A few months ago, I would have been butthurt.

Now? Meh.

I tried, I really tried to be friendly, but it seems that my reputation has caught up with me again. A few younglings were fun to hang around, but they were leaving, and no one else seems interested in talking to me. That’s fine. I have a test to study for and get a good night’s sleep to prep on.
So I waved to several there, got the responses I expected, and then to Cerys Dyn and headed back out. I'm cool with all of it, but I'm not going to force myself on anyone.

No regrets in coming.

No surprise in the reception.

No need to stay.
(Thread exit)