Private When the Work Is Done

[Iandre Athlea]

The restaurant overlooked one of Bastion's quieter skyline corridors, where traffic lanes curved in gentle arcs, and the glow of transit lights reflected off polished transparisteel. It was not one of the capital's grand political venues, nor one of its heavily trafficked social hubs, but rather a space that existed in the careful middle ground between privacy and legitimacy. This specific balance was exactly why Iandre had chosen it for their meeting.

She arrived a few minutes early, not out of any sense of impatience, but out of a long-standing habit that demanded she understand her surroundings before an engagement began. The hostess recognized her without comment and guided her to a semi-secluded terrace table, partially screened by living greenery and soft light panels tuned to simulate the gradient of a fading sunset. Beyond the railing, Bastion stretched outward in ordered layers of architecture and motion, looking clean and precise in a way few worlds ever managed to sustain for long.

She paused briefly before sitting to take a small breath in and a small breath out, centering herself before she finally settled into the chair and folded her hands loosely in her lap. Her attire was understated yet deliberate: a deep-blue civilian coat over a charcoal tunic, tailored simply, with no insignia or visible markers of rank. With her hair tied back in a neat, practical braid, nothing about her appearance suggested authority, which was an entirely intentional choice for the evening.

Tonight was not about politics, at least not in any official capacity.

When a server approached quietly to offer water and a menu, she accepted both with a polite nod, though she glanced over the options without much interest before setting the booklet aside. Her attention drifted outward, toward the city and the persistent pull of memory. She had met Judah once before, briefly, amid the dust and ration crates of a relief deployment where exhausted medics worked tirelessly around them. It had been the sort of encounter that could easily have vanished into the noise of crisis work—two people doing their jobs before moving on—and yet, it had not faded.

In the months since that day, his name had surfaced more than once in reports, briefings, and those specific conversations that tended to stop whenever she entered the room. Then there had been the matter of Senator Monaray Dod, a political death wrapped in uncertainty and speculation that was quietly reshaping conversations across the Diarchy and beyond. While that event was officially unrelated to this dinner, Iandre was not naïve enough to pretend that such a heavy context did not make every interaction more complicated.

Even so, she did not intend to interrogate him or extract information; she simply reached for her glass, took a small sip of water, and let the coolness ground her in the present moment. This was supposed to be a simple shared meal. And a continuation of a conversation that had never properly begun, and an opportunity to learn who Judah Dashiell was when he was not surrounded by crisis.

As footsteps approached along the terrace, she looked up and saw him, rising smoothly to her feet with a small, genuine smile touching her lips.

"Judah," she said warmly, her voice sounding calm and unguarded as she gestured lightly toward the seat opposite her. "I am glad you could make it, and I want to thank you for agreeing to meet me, especially since I know time is not always easy to find after everything that has happened lately."

There was no hint of accusation in her tone, only a blend of sincerity and curiosity, and a quiet sense that this evening might matter more than either of them yet realized.

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

They had met manhandling crates around a refugee zone on Ithor. An odd place for a meeting but Judah had been overseeing the family charity in the region, ensuring a fresh wave of supplies were delivered. He had been surprised to see Iandre Athlea on the ground as well, helping assist with medical. Only later did he find she was romantically involved with Diarch Rellik ,one of the critical leaders within that territory. Odd to see her in the thick of it, but perhaps the woman considered it a way to serve her people.

He wasn't quite sure of her role as the paramour of a Diarch, yet he imagined there was an element of service involved. Much like himself it was required. Image purposes, not to mention a way to give back.

Still, he was surprised by a dinner invite. Not because of the Senator Dod mishap. More because he was certain the woman was focused on getting married. Seemed her time would be quite compressed.

Arriving on time in a simple navy suit, Judah was surprised to see her already seated. Hopefully he had gotten the time correct. Pushing that thought down, he leaned in and kissed her cheek in greeting, urging her to sit back down.

"Miss Athlea, thank you for having me. Apologies if I was late." The old salvager motioned, urging her to sit. Waiting until she did so, Judah took the spot opposite. "Anytime and I should say the same. I'm sure your schedule is tight."

A small pause.

"If there a particular reason you called this dinner or is this merely a social call? I need to know which hat to put on tonight."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre's expression softened immediately at Judah's greeting, and she accepted the brief kiss to her cheek with easy familiarity rather than formality. When he gestured for her to sit, she did so smoothly, settling back into her chair with composed grace.

She waited until he had taken his seat before answering, her posture relaxed but attentive, hands resting lightly around her glass.

"You were not late," she said gently, a faint smile touching her lips. "I arrived early. That is a habit I have never quite managed to break."

Her gaze held his for a moment, warm and sincere, before she continued.

"And no, there is no hidden agenda tonight," she added. "You may set the political hat aside. This is a social call."

There was quiet emphasis in the words, as though she wanted him to believe her.

She drew in a small breath, thoughtful rather than nervous.

"I asked you here because I wanted to thank you properly," she went on. "Not in passing, and not in the middle of a crisis."

Her eyes briefly reflected the memory of Ithor: the crates, the injured, the endless motion.

"What you organized there mattered. More than most people will ever realize. Supplies arrived when they were needed. Families were fed. Clinics stayed open. People survived because of it."

She met his gaze again, steady and honest.

"You did not have to be there in person. You chose to be. And that choice stayed with me."

A small, almost self-aware smile followed.

"After that, it felt strange to let the moment pass as though we were only two people who happened to lift the same crate once."

She shifted slightly in her chair, still relaxed, still open.

"So this is simply… dinner," she said. "A chance to speak without alarms, deadlines, or wounded patients nearby. A chance to know each other as people rather than as roles."

Her tone softened just a fraction.

"If that is agreeable to you."

The implication was clear: no politics, no maneuvering, no expectations. Just conversation.

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"One could say the same for you. You didn't have to be there yet you were."

A waiter stopped by to get a drink order for himself. After placing a request for a Corellian whisky on the rocks, his attention turned back to Lady Iandre Athlea .Interesting she had wanted to meet. Although if he was being honest with himself, Judah could see how a CEO of a major corporation would not be expected at such things. As he grew older it was just a thing of importance. Not coming from a wealthy family - although some Dashiells had achieved some degree of success - it was just important to give back. To hoard his wealth and do nothing was not his style.

"It is agreeable. As dinner goes, I'm sure we will touch on the topics I mentioned as well. It is hard not to."

A small pause as his whisky arrived, taking a sip before continuing.

"How are you these days Lady Athlea?"

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre accepted the shift in tone with a quiet, inward grace, grateful for the sudden, grounded normalcy of the moment. As the waiter stepped away, leaving Judah with his glass, she watched the amber liquid catch the light for a brief moment, a small, flickering brilliance in the dim room, before she returned her focus entirely to the man across from her.

There was a particular steadiness to Judah that she found herself appreciating more with every passing minute. He wasn't ostentatious in his presence, nor was he overly guarded like so many she encountered in their circles; he was simply, fundamentally grounded. It was a quality that acted as a tether, making the flow of conversation feel far more natural and effortless than it might have been under the weight of their respective titles.

When he turned the question toward her, asking how she was truly faring, her expression softened with a touch of genuine warmth.

"I am well," she said, the words ringing with a quiet, unforced honesty.

She did not rush the answer or offer a reflexive politeness born of social habit. Instead, she allowed the question to settle, giving it the consideration it deserved before expanding on her thoughts.

"Busy, of course. That never seems to change regardless of the season, but I am well nonetheless."

A faint, almost playful smile touched her lips, a rare departure from her usual Jedi composure.

"There is a great deal happening all at once right now, both personally and politically, but for the first time in a long time, none of it feels unsteady or overwhelming."

She folded her hands lightly on the table, her movements fluid and relaxed.

"I think that is the primary difference I've noticed lately. There have been many years where a high level of activity inevitably meant an impending crisis, but now, that same energy simply feels like growth."

Her gaze met his then, marked by a quiet openness that invited further connection rather than ending the thought.

"And despite the weight of the work, I find myself genuinely looking forward to what comes next."

There was no need for her to elaborate directly on the upcoming wedding or the complexities of their union. The warmth radiating through her tone carried enough implication to be understood, allowing her to share her happiness without turning their evening into a dry political briefing or a formal public announcement.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, her curiosity piqued.

"And what of you, Judah? Putting the endless logistics of the relief efforts aside for a moment, are you actually managing to find a sense of balance in the midst of all this?"

Her voice carried the weight of genuine curiosity, devoid of any social obligation or the strategic probing common to their world. It was a simple, sincere interest in the man behind the mission.

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"So it sounds like you are enjoying the challenge now. The one of being busy in all aspects but not letting it feel like a major crisis. I think that can be a difficult thing to learn. Especially at your age."

As time went on and with experience he believed it was easier to juggle such times. What seemed major in your twenties was less so by the time you reached forty-five. However he had seen some that had not mastered such a skill, it most likely came down to a willingness in those cases. Maybe how they were raised as children.

"Of course I am. Just another day in the office. Things have been busy thanks to collapsing governments and wars. At this point if I didn't have more than five things on my list, personally and professionally, I would most likely be bored. A secret perhaps to staying young. Keep yourself busy so old age does not have time to creep up on you."

A small pause.

"Perhaps not the healthiest advice, take it with a grain of salt."

Iandre Athlea​

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre allowed the faintest curve of a smile to linger, her gaze softening as she watched him. There was no sharp edge to her composure now, only the quiet, tethering awareness of how different timelines could shape a soul.

"I imagine it does become easier with repetition," she said, her voice dropping to a gentler, more melodic register. "Crisis, once survived enough times, begins to lose its novelty. It becomes a rhythm one simply learns to dance to."

She shifted slightly, uncrossing her arms to rest her hands loosely atop the table, a small, silent gesture of trust, inviting him into her space.

"I was raised in the Temple on Coruscant," she continued, and for a moment, her eyes seemed to reflect the warm, amber glow of a sunset she hadn't seen in centuries. "From childhood, our days were structured like a song. Meditation before dawn. Study. Service. There was a certain...safety in never having to wonder what came next."

A brief, thoughtful pause followed. When she spoke again, it wasn't with the coldness of a soldier, but the weary grace of a survivor.

"Then the Clone Wars arrived. I served with the Grand Army, and suddenly, the song changed. Strategy by morning, diplomacy by evening... and the quiet weight of loss tucked in between the hours. You learn to fill every second, Judah, because the silence in a war is where the ghosts live."

She lifted her glass, the lantern light catching the liquid within, but she held it close to her chest for a moment, as if warming her palms.

"I survived the fall of the Temple. When I finally woke...nearly a thousand years had passed. The galaxy had changed its face, but its habits remained the same. It was still breaking, still burning, still asking for someone to fix it."

Her eyes returned to his, and this time, there was a visible glint of warmth, a reaching out.

"Keeping busy is an old friend. It's the one thing I didn't have to relearn." She let out a soft, genuine breath, not a sigh of exhaustion, but one of release. "But slowing down? That feels like a foreign language. When you've seen the world collapse, stillness feels like the breath the galaxy takes before it screams."

She tilted her head, a stray lock of dark hair catching against her cheek, her expression turning almost playful.

"I am slowly realizing that constant motion is just a way of running in place. Endurance...endurance is something else entirely. Something I think you might be able to teach me."

The warmth in her expression settled into something steady and kind.

"I truly do appreciate the advice, Judah. It's rare to find someone who looks at my 'busy-ness' and sees the fatigue instead of the productivity."

She took a slow, meaningful sip, her eyes never leaving his over the rim of the glass.

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"I don't think I can teach anyone about work-life balance. Please don't take my word as gospel. I am most likely the worst person to be an example on this front. Now, can I see that it is unhealthy? Of course. It still occurs for me. Or I let it happen. However....you're young. Break the cycle now. Better off that way."

Judah took another sip of his whisky and shrugged.

"Just some friendly advice from an old man."

Carefully he spun the glass around on the table, idly turning the amber liquid inside. He was debating. A long pause as he debated on asking a question. Given they had only met once during a refugee assistance program, it may even be an odder question. At least if he asked it now Miss Athlea wouldn't be wasting her time if she was offended.

"A thousand years, huh? I imagine that has been a whirlwind of difficulty. How did you fare? Obviously it would be disorientating. I mean more on the personal. How did you handle knowing everyone you know was gone? I imagine it is isolating."

Iandre Athlea​

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre did not answer immediately. She watched the amber liquid in his glass turn in slow circles, the movement almost hypnotic. The question hadn't been invasive; it was careful, even earnest.

Her hands rested lightly together on the table as she repeated the word softly, as if testing its weight. "Faring…"

A faint breath escaped her, not quite a laugh. "It was not graceful, if I am being honest. It was fortunate that I chose to come here rather than try to disappear somewhere small. If I had tried to live quietly, I do not think it would have ended well."

She folded her fingers together loosely, her expression softening. "Laphisto is also a man far removed from his own time. We both understand what it is to wake and find the world has moved on without asking permission. He gave me a place in the Lilaste Order: structure, discipline, and a purpose I actually recognized. It allowed me to take that disorientation and turn it into something that felt mostly familiar."

She paused, the silence stretching longer this time. "Losing my Master was the hardest part. I saw her die keeping me safe, but there was no time to grieve then. The Order was burning, and survival was the only immediate reality." Her fingers tightened subtly before relaxing once more. "By the time I truly woke in this era, the war was long over. The people were gone, the Order was a memory, and there was nothing left to outrun. I had to mourn her properly, even if it was a thousand years late."

She held his gaze without flinching, offering vulnerability without any hint of self-pity. "There were rough days. More than I would like to admit. But Laphisto helped me far more than he likely realizes. Not by fixing the past, but simply by standing there. He treated me as though I belonged in this time, rather than as misplaced. Isolation loses its teeth when someone refuses to let you drift."

Her posture remained composed, but the tension in her shoulders had finally eased. She tilted her head slightly, a quiet strength radiating from her. "I did not fare perfectly, but I did not break."

Her eyes searched his, the focus of the table shifting toward him.

"But what of you? You carry your own silence, and you seem to navigate this galaxy with a certainty that suggests you've had to anchor yourself as well. Who was it that refused to let you drift when the currents became too strong?"

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Isolation loses its teeth when someone refuses to let you drift.

"Thank you for sharing your story. You didn't have to."

Judah had never thought of it like that before. Yet it seemed to be a tenent that Miss Athlea held herself to. After the story she wove there wasn't much else for the woman really to cling to. Except a friend she mentioned, a Laphisto. A small, slow nod as he acknowledged her tale. It wasn't something she had to share, let alone in so much detail to make herself vulnerable. A surface level story could have easily sufficed.

Years ago he could have said the same. Danger was his absolute best friend - still was in a way despite the fact she barely recongized his presence. That recongition now was only due to the fact they shared a mutual grandchild and were forced to be cordial. Lucky for him there weren't as many family events as recent so the strain of maintaining a surface-level cordiality was less frequent.

"Oh, I don't know. I would say I'm fairly adrift." Judah paused slightly. "I have two sons and a granddaughter and grandson. Those tend to keep you from drifting too far in one direction or another. Especially when grandchildren frequently demand your presence."

Iandre Athlea ​

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre listened quietly as Judah spoke of his family, the faint warmth already present in her expression softening a little further at the mention of grandchildren. There was something grounding about the way he said it, as though the simple existence of them acted like anchors keeping him from drifting too far into the emptiness he had described earlier.

Her glass rested lightly between her hands as she considered his words.

"What are their names?" she asked gently.

The question carried genuine interest, not the polite curiosity of conversation but the kind that came from someone who had spent much of her life around people who had been separated from their families by duty or circumstance.

She leaned back slightly in her chair, her gaze drifting for a moment toward the lantern light flickering across the terrace before returning to him.

"I never thought much about having a family of my own," she admitted. "It simply wasn't something the Temple encouraged when I was growing up." Her tone was reflective rather than bitter, the statement offered as a simple fact of the life she had known.

"When you are raised in that environment, the Order becomes your family by default. Your master. Your fellow students. The people you fight beside." A small smile touched her lips then, faint but sincere.

"But the galaxy is…different now." She let the thought linger for a moment before continuing. "And lately I have begun to think that perhaps it would be nice." Her eyes lifted back to Judah, the hint of something hopeful resting quietly behind them. "To have a family of my own one day."

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"The grandkids?" No one ever wanted to know the names of adult sons. Fairly standard in his opinion. "Phoebe and Kellan. Both are just getting out of that toddler stage, which is fun. More active, more language. I've been amused."

Grown up enough to try new activities, young enough not to be 'too cool' to spend time with him. As Miss Iandre Athlea continued to speak, he listened, finishing his drink. She spoke of the order becoming family. He had wondered if the same was for Balun Dashiell but it was a different time. Centuries between the two. Miss Athlea spoke with more fondness than his son ever had.

Judah imagined those closest to one also made the difference.

"Family is great. You're getting married I hear, and see." A small nod towards the ring on her finger. "A perfect first step. Not that marriage is required but I imagine its one of the reasons people often form such a union. I'm sure you'll be a great mother, if that is what you so desire. Seems you already have a good head on your shoulders."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre followed his gaze instinctively as he gestured toward her hand. For a fleeting second, a look of faint surprise crossed her features, as though the presence of the ring was a new reality her mind was still learning to accept. She turned her hand slowly, watching the lantern light dance across the polished metal, studying the band with a quiet, private contemplation before finally returning her focus to Judah.

A small, warm smile, one that reached her eyes, settled on her expression.

"Phoebe and Kellan," she repeated, the names tasting sweet and melodic as she spoke them. "Those are wonderful names, Judah. Strong, yet kind."

There was a noticeable softness in her voice now, the guarded edges of the warrior giving way to the gentle curiosity that often surfaced when she spoke of children.

"I imagine that stage must be fascinating to watch," she mused, her gaze drifting toward the shadows of the room as if she could see the scene playing out. "To see them begin discovering the world on their own terms, untouched by the cynicism of the galaxy. The curiosity, the endless 'whys,' and those small triumphs that seem so enormous to a young mind...there is a purity in that which is hard to find elsewhere."

When the conversation shifted toward her own future, she lifted her eyes, inclining her head in a gesture of humble acknowledgment.

"Yes," she said quietly, her voice steady but light. "Rellik and I will be married soon."

There was no dramatic flourish in the statement, no need for grandiosity. To her, the truth of it was profound enough on its own, though the warmth behind her words was unmistakable.

"It still feels a little strange to say that aloud," she admitted, letting out a faint, almost amused breath that stirred the air between them. "For most of my life, the years spent in the Temple, the years spent at war, that path simply did not exist. It was a door that was never meant to be opened."

Her fingers rested lightly against the edge of the table, the ring catching the lantern light once more, a bright spark in the dimness.

"The Jedi who raised me believed that attachment only served to complicate duty, that it clouded judgment and invited fear. In a way, perhaps they were not entirely wrong; love does make the stakes much higher."

She paused, a thoughtful silence stretching for a moment before she continued.

"But I have come to believe that connection doesn't just complicate duty, it gives it a reason to exist. It gives us something to return to when the fighting is done."

Her smile returned, gentle and sincere, reflecting a peace she hadn't known in her youth.

"If that path leads to a family of my own someday…I think I would welcome it with an open heart. It's a different kind of bravery, I think. It is one I am still learning."

She tilted her head slightly, her curiosity shifting back toward the man across from her.

"Do Phoebe and Kellan visit you often? Or do they keep you busy with holograms and stories of their adventures in the meantime?"

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"Watching them figure out the universe is half the fun, yes. You're also correct. Given how easy it is to having crushing anxiety due to galactic events, there is something about having a child explain their perspective is...refreshing? I'm not sure what word could be used to properly describe it."

Listening to Iandre Athlea weave her tale of the Jedi of old, all he could do was nod. He wasn't familiar with any philosophy beyond what the woman was telling him. Miss Athlea could mention they all had to use purple washcloths as part of the religion and he wouldn't have been surprised. Given the rules she described, he would assume those had been thrown out the window some time ago. Judah was vaguely aware of Jedi family dynasties.

"Children can throw you for a loop, that's for sure. A different type of bravery is correct. Soon you realize you cannot protect them from all the evil and ill in the galaxy. You try, of course. Yet they also have to experience their own life."

A fine line to walk in his eyes.

"They visit often. I'm a built in babysitter. My schedule can be easy to arrange and it is the least I can do. Someone did it for me long ago, least I can do is return the favor, so to speak. Besides it keeps me young. I'm either chasing after them or playing part-time handyman putting their toys together."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre listened with quiet attention as Judah spoke, her expression softening at the way he described his grandchildren. There was something unmistakably genuine in his words, a warmth that carried none of the formal restraint she was so used to hearing in official conversations.

A faint smile touched her lips.

"Refreshing might be the right word," she said thoughtfully. "Children tend to strip away all the layers we place on the world. They see things plainly, sometimes more honestly than we do."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the lantern light dancing across the table between them before returning to him.

"I imagine that perspective can be grounding when the rest of the galaxy feels… complicated."

She folded her hands lightly together, her posture relaxed now in a way that suggested the conversation had moved far beyond polite introductions.

Judah's mention of the balance between protecting children and allowing them to live their own lives drew a small, understanding nod.

"That must be a difficult lesson for any parent to accept," she said gently. "Letting them face parts of the world on their own while still hoping you prepared them well enough to stand through it."

When he described himself as a built-in babysitter and toy assembler, a quiet laugh escaped her.

"A very important role," she replied warmly. "Every family needs someone capable of assembling impossible contraptions that arrive in far too many pieces."

Her smile lingered a moment longer before curiosity naturally returned to the conversation.

They had only crossed paths once before, after all.

"If you don't mind my asking," she continued, tilting her head slightly, "what line of work keeps you busy when you are not chasing grandchildren or assembling toys?"

Her tone remained easy and sincere.

"We only met briefly during the refugee assistance program. I realized afterward that I never actually asked what you do."

Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Judah motioned for another drink as they spoke of children, assembling toys, and how complicated it could be. To be frank it wasn't how he anticipated the night going. He had expected more focus on galactic affairs and soft probing of any rumors he may know about. Such conversation was commonplace. Typically rumor swaps only occurred on a more corporate level, but given Miss Iandre Athlea was due to betrothed to one of the leaders of a government it wouldn't be surprising.

Then talk turned to work. It was easy to forget not everyone knew what he did at times.

"Owner and CEO of Dashiell Incorporated. Salacia Consolidated is my biggest claim to fame, we focus on salvage and reclamation. Still my bread and butter so to speak despite diversifying elsewhere."

He was going to try to take a stab at her profession based on their meeting.

"And you're a Jedi...medical...professional? I'm not sure of the official title."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre listened with genuine interest as Judah explained his work, the company's name clearly striking a chord of familiarity that drew a quiet, thoughtful flicker of recognition in her eyes. In a galaxy that had endured centuries of relentless conflict, salvage and reclamation on such a massive scale was no small undertaking, and she found herself admiring the vision required to see the wreckage of the past as the foundations of the future.

She inclined her head slightly, her expression softening with an appreciative warmth.

"That sounds like incredibly important work, Judah," she said thoughtfully, her voice carrying a resonant, melodic quality. "Wars tend to leave behind far more than just scorched earth and broken battlefields; they leave behind a legacy of debris that can stifle a world's recovery if left untended. There is a certain nobility in being the one to reclaim what was thought lost and turn those remnants into something useful and beautiful once again."

There was no trace of judgment in her tone, only a quiet, empathetic acknowledgment of the reality they lived in. After everything she had witnessed during the height of her service, she understood more than most how much of the modern galaxy was meticulously built from the hollowed-out remnants of the last great catastrophe.

When Judah attempted to guess her profession, a small, genuinely amused smile played across her lips, lighting up her features in a way that made the age in her eyes seem to vanish for a fleeting second.

"Your assessment is not entirely incorrect," she replied gently, her amusement lingering in the air like a shared secret. "Though I have found that the title I carry depends very much on which particular chapter of my life you happen to be asking about."

She leaned back slightly in her chair, the warm lantern light catching faintly along the intricate weave of the braid resting over her shoulder as she settled into the conversation.

"During the long years of the Clone Wars, I served the Republic as a Jedi Commander," she explained, her gaze drifting for a moment as if seeing those distant stars. "The Order often placed us in leadership roles during the conflict, requiring us to coordinate closely with the military and lead operations where the Force, and our training, could subtly influence the outcome for the better."

Her voice remained calm and steady, though there was a perceptible weight to her words, a lingering gravity that suggested the memories were as vivid now as they were a millennium ago.

"After waking in this strange new era and finding my footing again, I eventually found a place within the Lilaste Order, where I currently serve with the rank of Second Lieutenant."

A faint, soft breath left her nose, a sound that sat somewhere between deep reflection and a self-aware sort of irony.

"I will admit that holding a military rank feels somewhat strange after a thousand years of silence, but I have always believed that structure has a vital purpose, especially when the world feels as though it is tilting on its axis."

She rested her hands lightly on the table once more, her posture open and relaxed as she continued to share her story with him.

"As for the medical side of things, I simply try to help wherever the need is greatest. Many of us in the Order learned basic healing techniques as part of our core training, and I have lived my life by the belief that if one possesses the ability to ease another's suffering, it is a duty that should be embraced whenever possible."

Her smile softened into something more personal and perhaps a bit more vulnerable before she added the final piece of the puzzle.

"And then there is the Diarchy...once Rellik and I are married, I will be expected to hold the title of Diarne."

She tilted her head just slightly, a rare and almost sheepish expression crossing her face as she made the admission.

"Truthfully, I am still very much in the process of adjusting to that idea myself, as the concept of political power was never something I sought out."

A hint of gentle humor returned to her eyes, a spark of connection as she looked at him across the table.

"So, depending on the day and the needs of those around me, I suppose I am a soldier, a medic, a Jedi…and very soon, it appears I shall have to learn to be a stateswoman as well."

Her gaze shifted fully back to Judah, her expression warm and inviting, as if truly seeing him in the glow of the evening.

"Life has a remarkably strange way of adding new responsibilities to our shoulders just when we least expect them, wouldn't you agree?"

Judah Dashiell