Faction Taste of the Temple

[Xuko Pagoi]

Spoiler: Guidelines

This social is Open to Jedi and their allies at the Tython temple. Characters are invited to bring food or drinks from their homeworlds for others and themselves to enjoy! Be creative and have fun

Ever since Klar told him that she liked watching him cook, Xuko had been working to bring some of his favorite Iridonian recipes to the Jedi temple; and after having to explain to the Council why he needed to import a specific kind of scorpion, he had been charged with making it an event that all Jedi could attend. That was why he had spent the past several hours setting up small booths around the stone steps of the Tython temple, as well as tables and chairs scattered around the temple entrance, for his fellow Jedi to use. Xuko had claimed a booth for his homeworld of Iridonia, and was busy putting the finishing touches on the Vren'kath as the first guests began arriving.

The Zabrak adjusted the small paper tents in front of each dish. Each food had its ingredients listed, as well as the spice level. A quick glance would show that Iridonian foods were, on the whole, extraordinarily spicy; and with the exception of the bread that Azurine Varek had promised to drop off, the food he'd brought today reflected that.

As his stomach rumbled and he waited for his first victim customer, Xuko wondered what other foods or drinks would be available to choose from; he'd spent so much time coordinating the event, as well as his own booth, that he hadn't had time to peruse the sign-up sheet to see what else was being brought.

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

The soft clink of ceramic dishes preceded him, balanced expertly in a woven carrier slung over one shoulder. Aadihr walked with slow, deliberate steps, each guided by the gentle current of life that pulsed around the Temple grounds. The scent of spice, char, and roasted protein filled the air—Iridonian, unmistakably—and drew a quiet smile to his lips. He followed it like a thread in the tapestry of the Force.

He stopped at an unclaimed table near the edge of the gathering, near enough to hear laughter but removed enough for the nervous or curious to linger without pressure. With the grace of someone accustomed to silence, he began to unpack each dish:

A covered clay bowl, warm to the touch, was placed first. The moment the lid lifted, a mellow, herbal aroma escaped—braised Shaari fennel, soft and fork-tender, with a hint of star-anise and cave-root. Next came a small stack of folded vellimoss bread, its pale, almost silver crust dusted with cooling herbs that numbed the tongue in gentle waves. Finally, a narrow bottle of Kurlathi nectar, frosted slightly, was set upright beside them. He poured a small sample into a shared cup and set it forward with no fanfare.

There were no labels. Instead, each dish bore faintly etched lines in Miralukan braille—meant to be read by touch, not seen.

Aadihr set his walking stick beside the table, then folded his hands, exhaling softly through his nose. He let the atmosphere of the temple flow through him—laughter, sizzling pans, the pulse of gathered Jedi.

Let them come in their own time.
"The food is warm. You're welcome to share."

Xuko Pagoi Azurine Varek OPEN​