Private Where the Quiet Still Hurts

[Jayna Ismet-Thio]

Objective: Distract and be distracted
Location: Veradune
Outfit: -X-
Tags: Iandre Athlea

Veradune did not feel the same.

It wasn’t the skyline—still polished, still impossibly clean in that way worlds trying to prove themselves always were. It wasn’t the air either, though Jayna noticed how it lacked the edge of whatever distant world she and her father had last searched. No, it was something subtler. Something internal. The kind of shift that followed you back from a mission and refused to unpack.

Jayna Ismet-Thio moved through the corridors with a steadiness she didn’t quite feel. Her boots made soft, measured sounds against the polished floor, her posture disciplined—her father’s influence written in every line of her stance. But beneath it, her thoughts refused to settle. Every lead about her mother had frayed. Every answer had dissolved into something incomplete, something almost there. It lingered in her like a question that wouldn’t let itself be asked.

And then there was the other thing. The feeling. Familiar. Wrong. She exhaled slowly, forcing it down—not ignoring it, never that, but setting it aside the way she’d been taught. There were other things here. People. One person in particular.

Word traveled quickly on Veradune, especially when it concerned figures like Iandre Athlea. Jayna hadn’t just heard the name—she had met her, a handful of times. Brief moments, passing exchanges, tours of Aurora Station, enough to turn distant stories into something real. Each encounter had only sharpened the impression: quiet strength, precise control, the kind of presence that carried the weight of whatever Order she belonged to without ever seeming crushed beneath it. Enough, at least, to leave Jayna watching a little more closely whenever Ian was near.

Now she was here. And hurting. Jayna didn’t hesitate. She found her near one of the quieter terraces—one of those places designed for reflection, where the hum of the city softened into something almost distant. The kind of place people went when they didn’t want to be watched, even if they knew they might be.

Jayna slowed as she approached, giving just enough time for her presence to be noticed—no sudden movements, no intrusion. Just… arrival.

“Ian?” Her voice was gentle, careful in a way that didn’t feel forced. When their eyes met, Jayna didn’t offer words first. Instead, she closed the distance and stepped forward, arms wrapping around her in a warm, steady embrace. Not hesitant. Not fleeting. Grounded.

It wasn’t the kind of hug given out of obligation. It lingered just long enough to say you’re not alone in this before she eased back, hands resting briefly on Ian’s arms as if to anchor the moment. “I heard you were here,” Jayna said softly, her expression open, earnest. “I’m really glad you are.”

There was no attempt to fill the silence too quickly. No rush to fix something that couldn’t be fixed. Instead, she tilted her head just slightly, a faint, almost conspiratorial softness entering her tone.

“I don’t think I’m very good at the whole ‘wise comfort’ thing yet,” she admitted, a small breath of humor threading through the weight. “But I am good at distractions.” A pause. Not forced—inviting. “And honestly… I could use one too.”

For a moment, something flickered behind her composure. Not fully exposed, but not entirely hidden either. The quiet aftermath of her own mission. The absence of answers. The echo of something unresolved.

She didn’t press it further. Just stood there, present, steady, offering something simple but genuine.

“Walk? Spar? I finally got my lightsabers… Fly somewhere we’re not supposed to?” A faint, knowing smile tugged at her lips. “I’m flexible.”

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The terrace had been quiet before Jayna arrived, capturing the kind of stillness that settled naturally over Veradune's higher levels once the rush of daytime movement softened into evening calm. Below them, the city still glowed in clean lines of silver and gold, polished and orderly in ways Bastion had never managed to be, yet none of it truly reached Iandre in the way it once might have.

She had been standing near the edge of the terrace when Jayna approached, her hands loosely folded before her. Her dark hair was gathered back into a simple braid rather than her usual style, lacking the careful precision she normally maintained. Grief had not entirely diminished her composure, but it had visibly thinned it, and the deep exhaustion beneath her calm was becoming harder to hide from anyone observant enough to notice.

The moment the younger woman reached out and embraced her, something inside Iandre softened almost immediately. She was not broken or collapsed, but she was finally tired enough to stop pretending she needed no comfort at all. Her arms lifted after only the slightest hesitation to return the hug with a quiet, fierce sincerity, pouring out both gentleness and a profound gratitude born from spending too many days trying to survive entirely inside her own head.

"Thank you," she said softly once Jayna eased back enough to look at her again, the words carrying the immense weight of real, raw gratitude rather than mere ceremonial politeness.

At the heartfelt offer of a distraction, the faintest trace of life returned to her expression, subtle but entirely genuine.

"A distraction would be nice, Jayna," she admitted quietly.

Then, at the mention of flying somewhere they were not supposed to go, a small flicker of dry humor touched her eyes for the first time in days.

"At this point, even I do not know where we are not supposed to go anymore."

The remark was soft and almost absent-minded, though the faint humor inside it successfully helped loosen some of the suffocating heaviness lingering around her. She considered the options for a moment afterward, her gaze drifting briefly toward the distant skyline before returning to Jayna with a spark of renewed warmth.

"A walking spar?"

One brow lifted slightly as the ghost of an actual smile threatened at the corner of her mouth.

"Hm, how about we simply take a walk and see where it leads us. If we happen to find an open field somewhere along the way, then perhaps we can spar."

The suggestion sounded less like a formal plan and more like a quiet permission to simply exist somewhere outside of her grief for a little while. Her posture eased slightly as she turned away from the terrace edge, motioning gently for Jayna to walk alongside her.

"Though I should warn you," she added, a distinct thread of teasing warmth finally returning to her voice, "I was trained by someone who believed walking meditations counted as appropriate combat preparation, so there is a reasonable chance you are about to be ambushed by philosophy."

Jayna Ismet-Thio

 

[Jayna Ismet-Thio]

Objective: Distract and be distracted
Location: Veradune
Outfit: -X-
Tags: Iandre Athlea

Jayna fell into step beside her easily, matching Iandre’s pace without needing to think about it. The offer—simple, unstructured—felt right. No objectives, no expectations. Just movement. Just space.

“That sounds perfect,” Jayna said, a quiet sincerity in her voice as she glanced over, catching that faint return of warmth in Ian’s expression. It was small, but she noticed it. She always noticed things like that.

Her hands settled loosely at her sides as they began to walk, her posture relaxing a fraction compared to the rigid composure she usually carried. For a few steps, she let the silence sit between them—not empty, but shared.

Then the warning came. Jayna huffed a soft breath of amusement, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Ambushed by philosophy?” she echoed, tilting her head slightly as if weighing the threat. “I don’t know, that might be worse than an actual ambush.”

There was a lightness to it, but it didn’t feel forced. If anything, it was careful—like she was testing the edges of something fragile, making sure it held. “I think I can handle it though,” she added, a touch more confident now. “My dad tries that sometimes. Usually right before or after telling me I’m doing something wrong.”

A brief glance forward, then back to Ian. “…or right after I definitely did something wrong.” That earned a slightly more genuine smile, fleeting but real. It faded as her gaze drifted outward toward the city below, the glow of Veradune stretching into the distance. For a moment, her expression softened—not with humor this time, but something quieter.

“I get the whole… walking thing,” she continued after a beat, her voice lowering just slightly. “It helps. Keeps your head from getting stuck in the same place.”

She didn’t elaborate further. Didn’t bring up the mission, or her mother, or the lingering wrongness she couldn’t quite name. But it was there, in the way her fingers flexed once at her side before stilling again. Jayna glanced back to Ian, something thoughtful settling behind her eyes.

“But if you do ambush me,” she added, letting a hint of playfulness return to her tone, “I’m calling it a spar and I’m not holding back.” A small pause, then—more quietly, more honestly—“…and you probably shouldn’t either.” Philosophy may not have been Jayna’s favorite subject. But that didn’t mean she didn’t delve into it. She knew enough that she did not share philosophies of the New Jedi Order under the Galactic Alliance. She certainly wouldn’t be mute when it came to sharing opinions.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The faint warmth lingering at the corners of Iandre's expression softened slightly at Jayna's response, though the grief surrounding her still remained impossible to fully conceal. It lingered quietly beneath everything now, woven into her presence like a wound still too fresh to properly scar over. She carried it with discipline, but the Force was rarely fooled by discipline alone, especially around those sensitive enough to notice what lived beneath the surface.

Still, she tried.

"Then I will try to limit the philosophical ambushes to manageable intervals," she replied softly, the faintest thread of dry humor touching her voice as they continued along the terrace paths. "Though I should warn you, some Jedi eventually become dangerous enough to weaponize metaphors."

Her gaze remained mostly ahead of them as they walked, following the softly illuminated paths winding through Veradune's elevated gardens and terraces. Only occasionally did her eyes shift toward Jayna beside her, attentive without becoming intrusive.

At the mention of doing something wrong and being corrected afterward, another small trace of warmth touched her expression.

"I do not think I would be particularly harsh about it," she said gently. "Though I might correct you if necessary. Quietly, preferably."

The ghost of a smile flickered briefly before fading again beneath the heavier things still living behind her composure.

When Jayna admitted the walking helped keep her thoughts from becoming trapped, Iandre gave the faintest nod of understanding. "Yes," she murmured. "Stillness can become dangerous when grief is fresh." The words slipped out more honestly than intended.

For several steps afterward, silence returned between them, not empty, but thoughtful. The breeze stirred loose strands of dark hair near Iandre's shoulders while the city lights below painted shifting reflections across the polished walkways. She kept moving steadily beside Jayna, though there was something quieter in her now, some exhaustion that seemed to deepen whenever conversation drifted too close to loss.

Eventually, her eyes shifted back to the younger woman. "How are you doing?" she asked softly. The question was simple, but genuine. "Truly, Jayna." Not the automatic version people asked while expecting reassurance in return. A real question from someone who had become painfully aware, in recent days, how easy it was for capable people to hide suffering behind composure and movement.

Jayna Ismet-Thio

 

[Jayna Ismet-Thio]

Objective: Distract and be distracted
Location: Veradune
Outfit: -X-
Tags: Iandre Athlea

Jayna walked beside her in comfortable rhythm, her earlier lightness lingering—but thinner now, like it had been set carefully over something heavier rather than replacing it. She let Ian’s words settle, the quiet humor drawing the faintest breath of a smile from her again.

“I appreciate the mercy,” she said softly. “I’ll try not to counter-ambush you with bad decisions.” The words came easily—but they didn’t stay light.

A few more steps passed before her gaze drifted forward again, unfocused for just a moment as the city stretched out ahead of them. Her shoulders rose and fell with a measured breath, the kind that was a little too deliberate to be unconscious.

“I think…” she started, then paused, as if deciding how much to say. Her hand flexed once at her side before settling again. “I think I’d rather be doing that, honestly. Making bad decisions.” A small, almost self-aware huff of air escaped her. “Running off somewhere, chasing the next lead, not stopping long enough to think about whether it’s actually a good idea.”

She glanced over at Ian briefly, not searching for judgment—just… grounding herself in being heard. “But I know better,” Jayna continued, quieter now. “At least… I’m trying to.” Her jaw tightened faintly, the conflict there not hidden, just contained.

“Every time we get close to something about my mom, it just… slips. Or turns into something worse than we thought.” She shook her head once, subtle but firm. “If I rush it—if I push too hard—I could make it harder to find her. Or worse.”

The admission sat between them, heavier than anything she’d said before. “So I stay here,” she added after a moment, her tone steadier again, though not lighter. “I train. I take assignments. I keep moving.”

A faint, rueful edge touched her voice. “Because if I stop…” she trailed off briefly, eyes flicking down before lifting again, “…then I start thinking about where she is. What’s happening to her. And that’s—”

She exhaled, cutting herself off before finishing the thought. “—not helpful.” There was no self-pity in it. Just honesty. Blunt and a little raw.

Jayna looked back to Ian then, something more open in her expression than before—not asking for comfort, but no longer pretending she didn’t need any. “So yeah,” she added, softer now, a faint echo of that earlier humor returning at the edges, “I’m very committed to distractions right now.”

A small pause. “…and apparently walking meditations.”

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre listened without interruption, her gaze remaining mostly forward as Jayna spoke, though every so often her eyes drifted toward the younger woman beside her with quiet attentiveness. The grief surrounding her still lingered heavily in the Force, impossible to fully conceal no matter how carefully she carried herself, but something gentler lived alongside it now as well, born from an earned, deeply personal understanding. When Jayna admitted she wanted to run, to chase leads and outrun the stillness before her thoughts caught up to her, something in Iandre's expression softened with painful recognition. She understood that desperate instinct far too well now, intimately knowing the suffocating fear of stopping, and the terror that silence would leave a person alone with a grief massive enough to swallow them whole.

She let Jayna finish completely before speaking, allowing the confession room to exist between them without immediately trying to soothe it away.

Then, slowly, Iandre stopped walking.

The movement was gentle enough not to startle, and when she turned toward Jayna, there was no trace of judgment in her face, only a quiet sorrow and a heavy compassion that looked far older than either of them deserved. Her hands lifted carefully, settling lightly against Jayna's shoulders unless the younger woman pulled away. The touch carried a trace of hesitation at first, not because affection did not come naturally to her, but because recent trauma had made every act of physical closeness feel fragile and unfamiliar again.

For a moment, she simply looked at her, truly reading the exhaustion hidden beneath determination, and the fear wrapped tightly inside movement, discipline, and distractions. Then, Iandre stepped forward and pulled her gently into an embrace that was neither formal nor fleeting. It was the kind of hug given by someone who recognized another soul trying very hard not to fall apart, offering the exact kind of anchor she herself had desperately needed these past few days.

"You do not have to carry it perfectly all the time," she murmured softly.

There was no lecture inside the words, and no heavy philosophy, leaving only a quiet, unconditional permission to be vulnerable.

She held the embrace for a few seconds longer before finally easing back enough to look at Jayna again, a fragile, exhausted smile touching her features that was small but entirely genuine despite the grief still shadowing her eyes.

"Come," she said gently. "Let us go find some purposes and distractions."

The faint warmth in her voice returned just enough to soften the remaining heaviness between them as she released Jayna's shoulders and resumed walking beside her.

"Though if our walking meditation accidentally becomes a sparring match, I reserve the right to claim I saw it coming all along."

Jayna Ismet-Thio

 

[Jayna Ismet-Thio]

Objective: Distract and be distracted
Location: Veradune
Outfit: -X-
Tags: Iandre Athlea

Jayna didn’t hesitate. The moment Iandre’s hands found her shoulders, something in her gave way—not in collapse, not in weakness, but in recognition. Of being seen. Of not having to hold the line quite so tightly for a few seconds.

When Ian stepped forward, Jayna met her halfway. Her arms came up quickly, wrapping around her with an eagerness that surprised even herself, the embrace firm and grounding rather than careful. She didn’t hold back, not this time. It wasn’t just comfort she accepted—it was something closer to relief. The kind that only came when someone understood enough.

For a few seconds, she let herself lean into it. Just a little.

“You don’t either,” Jayna murmured quietly in return, the words soft but certain against Ian’s shoulder. Not a correction—just an offering back, equal and instinctive.

When they separated, Jayna didn’t pull away immediately. Her hands lingered briefly at Ian’s arms, steadying, like she didn’t want the moment to vanish too quickly. There was something different in her expression now—still burdened, still carrying everything she had said… but less alone in it. The faintest smile touched her lips, small but real.

“Okay,” she said, exhaling softly, as if resetting something inside herself. “Purposes and distractions. I can work with that.”

She fell back into step beside her without hesitation, their pace naturally finding rhythm again. This time, though, Jayna’s posture was looser—less like she was bracing against something, more like she was allowing herself to simply be there.

At Ian’s added remark, a quiet laugh slipped out of her, lighter than anything she’d managed so far. “Oh, absolutely not,” she replied, a spark of playful defiance returning to her tone. “If this turns into a spar, I’m claiming I planned it the whole time.”

She glanced sideways, a flicker of that earlier admiration slipping through—still there, still genuine, but tempered now with something more grounded. Familiarity. Shared weight.

“And for the record,” Jayna added, a touch more softly, “I’m pretty sure you’d see it coming anyway.”

A small beat passed as they walked, her gaze drifting forward again, though not as distant as before. “…but I think I like the idea of just… seeing where we end up,” she continued. “No plan. No chasing anything. Just… moving.”

There was intention in that choice now. Not avoidance—control. And for the first time since she’d arrived back on Veradune, it didn’t feel like she was running.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The warmth of the embrace lingered with Iandre even after they resumed walking, a subtle but undeniable comfort against the chill of her thoughts. While it wasn't nearly enough to lessen the profound grief sitting heavily inside her chest. Nothing short of time could do that, and it served as a gentle reminder that sorrow did not always have to be carried in isolation. Jayna's quiet insistence that she didn't need to hold herself together perfectly settled somewhere deep within her mind, striking dangerously close to the fragile part of her soul that was actively unraveling beneath a lifetime of careful discipline. For a long moment, she simply walked beside the younger woman in a comfortable silence, letting her focus drift to the steady, synchronized rhythm of their footsteps against the terrace path and the distant, familiar sounds of Veradune drifting through the cool evening air.

At Jayna's playful declaration that she would absolutely claim any future sparring match had been planned all along, the faintest real smile finally touched Iandre's face.

"A very Jedi response," she murmured softly, her gray eyes reflecting a flash of genuine amusement. "Retroactively assigning wisdom to questionable decisions is practically a tradition in the Order."

The dry humor sat more naturally between them now, no longer serving as a forced shield to keep her grief at bay, but rather as something gentler woven seamlessly around it. When Jayna admitted that she liked the idea of simply moving without chasing a goal for once, Iandre offered a small nod of understanding. Her eyes remained fixed mostly on the path ahead, though she occasionally glanced toward her companion with that steady, protective attentiveness she always carried.

"Sometimes movement without purpose becomes its own kind of healing," she said quietly, the words carrying the heavy weight of someone actively trying to convince herself of the truth behind them. "It isn't about running away from the problem, but rather just reminding yourself that the wider world still exists beyond the boundaries of whatever is currently hurting you."

A faint breeze stirred through the surrounding gardens, catching loose strands of her dark hair and brushing them against her shoulders. As the wind passed, the oppressive aura of grief radiating from her presence seemed to soften just slightly around the edges, losing its sharpest sting now that it was no longer being guarded so fiercely alone.

After a few more steps down the winding path, her expression turned thoughtful.

"You know," she began softly, turning her gaze briefly toward Jayna to ensure her words hit home, "I once heard someone say that helping another person while you are hurting can sometimes help lift your own spirit as well. Not because it magically erases your own pain, but because it reminds you that you are still entirely capable of giving something good to the galaxy despite it."

There was absolutely no hint of a lecture in her tone, only the quiet, vulnerable reflection born from her own very recent experiences.

"I think perhaps that is part of the reason why Jedi so often throw themselves toward people who need help whenever their own private lives begin falling apart," she added, a faint, fragile warmth finally returning to her features. "Though admittedly, some of us are also simply terrible at sitting still with our own emotions."

Jayna Ismet-Thio

 

[Jayna Ismet-Thio]

Objective: Distract and be distracted
Location: Veradune
Outfit: -X-
Tags: Iandre Athlea

Jayna listened quietly, her hands clasped behind her like she had seen other Jedi do as they followed the winding path through Veradune's gardens. The evening air felt lighter now than it had when she'd first sought Ian out. Not because anything had been solved. Not because either of their hurts had magically lessened. Just because neither of them was carrying it entirely alone.

A smile tugged at her lips when Ian described retroactively assigning wisdom to questionable decisions. "Good," she said. "I was worried I'd been doing Jedi wrong." The joke earned a soft laugh from her, one that lingered for a few steps before fading into thoughtful silence. After all, Jayna hadn’t really considered herself as “doing Jedi” at all until quite recently.

As Ian spoke about movement and healing, Jayna found herself nodding. "Yeah." Her gaze drifted toward the city lights beyond the gardens. "I think I've been afraid that if I stop moving, I'm giving up."

The admission came easier than she expected. "Like if I'm not actively searching for my mom, studying reports, chasing leads, training harder, doing something..." She shook her head lightly. "Then somehow I'm failing her."

Jayna exhaled slowly. "But I know that's not true. At least logically." Emotionally was another matter entirely.

Her attention returned to Ian as the older Jedi continued. This time, when the subject turned toward helping others, Jayna's expression softened. "I think you're right." She smiled faintly. "Every mission I've taken since Mom disappeared has felt important."

A small pause followed. "Maybe because helping someone else means, for a little while, I don't have to think about all the people I can't help." There was no bitterness in the words. Just honesty.

The next part drew a slightly brighter smile from her. The idea of Jedi throwing themselves into helping others because they were bad at sitting with their feelings felt entirely too familiar. "Oh, we're absolutely terrible at it."

Jayna glanced sideways at Ian. "You're talking to someone whose solution to emotional distress is usually 'go hit a training remote until the problem becomes philosophical instead of emotional.'"

Her smile widened slightly. "Dad says that's not actually processing my feelings." A beat passed. "I think he's probably right."

The humor faded gently, replaced by something warmer. Something grateful. She looked at Ian for a moment longer before speaking again. "You know... when I heard you were here, I came looking for you because I thought maybe I could help."

Her voice was quiet now. "Maybe offer a distraction. Maybe keep you company for a while." She smiled, small and genuine. "But I think this has helped me just as much."

For a moment, she looked down the path stretching ahead of them. Neither of them knew where it led. Neither of them needed to. "I'm glad you're here, Ian." The words carried no grand lesson behind them. Just simple truth.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

For a while, Iandre simply walked beside her.

The path wound gently through the gardens, illuminated by soft lights that seemed almost distant compared to the weight of the conversation they carried between them. Jayna's words settled somewhere deep inside her, finding places already tender.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet.

"I think that is one of the cruelest parts of loving someone who is gone," she said softly. "The feeling that if you stop searching, stop worrying, or stop carrying the weight every moment of every day, you are somehow failing them."

Her gaze remained forward.

"As though grief becomes proof that they mattered."

A small silence followed.

"But people are not remembered through suffering alone."

The words sounded less like certainty and more like something she was still trying very hard to learn herself.

At Jayna's admission that she could not help the people she truly wanted to help, a faint sadness touched Iandre's expression. Not pity. Recognition.

"No," she agreed quietly. "I do not think you are alone in that."

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly when Jayna described her preferred method of emotional processing. "Your father sounds wise." A brief pause. "Annoyingly wise." The humor was faint, but genuine.

Then Jayna spoke of why she had come.

The admission struck deeper than she expected, a sudden, tight ache forming in her chest. For a few steps, Iandre couldn't say anything at all, her throat tightening as she fought to keep her composure. The grief remained present around her, still raw, still sharp enough that some moments felt difficult to breathe through. But alongside it now was something warmer, a profound wave of gratitude that threatened to spill over.

When she finally looked toward Jayna, her gray eyes were bright, glistening slightly with unshed tears, though her expression remained gently anchored.

"I am very glad you came looking for me." There was a slight tremor in her voice, but no hesitation in the statement. "I do not think I realized how much I needed company until you arrived."

The admission was quiet, entirely honest, and thick with the emotion she had been keeping under lock and key. For someone who had spent much of her life being the person others leaned upon, accepting support still felt strangely unfamiliar—but holding it in right now felt impossible.

"I think helping each other is usually how these things work," she continued gently, her tone softening to ensure her own heavy heart didn't place a burden on the teenager beside her. "We just like to pretend otherwise because it sounds more noble."

A fragile, watery smile appeared then. "Jedi have always been very good at convincing themselves they are supposed to carry everything alone."

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the city beyond the gardens, taking a slow, steadying breath to let the tightness in her chest ease before returning her focus to Jayna. "I am glad you are here too, Jayna."

She paused, looking at the young teen, mindful of the heavy missing pieces Jayna was navigating in her own life. Iandre didn't want to just absorb the comfort; she wanted to offer a safe harbor in return, even if it was just a small one.

"What can I do to help you tonight?" she asked softly. "Even if it is just walking a bit longer, or hitting a training remote until the problems turn philosophical. I am here."

Jayna Ismet-Thio

 

[Jayna Ismet-Thio]

Objective: Distract and be distracted
Location: Veradune
Outfit: -X-
Tags: Iandre Athlea

Jayna listened quietly as Ian spoke, her gaze drifting between the path ahead and the gardens surrounding them. There was something strangely comforting about hearing someone else put words to feelings she had been carrying since her mom was taken. The feeling that if she wasn't worrying, searching, planning, training, doing something, then somehow she wasn't doing enough for her mother.

That somehow the pain itself had become proof she hadn't given up. Her shoulders eased slightly. Not because the feeling vanished. Just because she wasn't the only one carrying it. "I think you're right," she admitted softly. "About grief."

Her eyes remained forward. "I don't think I'd ever put it into words before, but..." A small breath escaped her. "Sometimes it feels wrong to have a good day." The confession came easier than expected. "Like if I laugh too much, or get distracted, or enjoy myself..." she shook her head faintly. "Part of me feels guilty."

Jayna glanced toward Ian. "As if Mom is still out there somewhere, and I'm not allowed to be happy until she's home." The thought sounded much less reasonable spoken aloud than it had inside her head. A faint smile tugged at her lips. "I know she'd probably tell me that's ridiculous." Knowing Jairdain, she was fairly certain she'd be scolded for it.

The mention of Jedi carrying everything alone earned a soft laugh. "We really are terrible at asking for help." There was no argument in her voice because she had already proven Ian's point simply by showing up here carrying months of worry mostly by herself.

When Ian thanked her for coming, Jayna felt warmth spread through her chest. The older Jedi's honesty meant more than she probably realized. It made Jayna feel less foolish for seeking her out. Less like an awkward teenager bothering one of her heroes. More like... a friend. The realization made her smile.

Then came the question. What could Ian do to help her? Jayna thought about it seriously. The answer surprised her with how simple it was.

"For now?" She looked down the winding path ahead. "I think we keep walking."

The words carried a quiet certainty. "No missions. No searching. No worrying about what we're supposed to be doing." A small grin appeared. "At least for now."

Then something brighter entered her expression. "Oh." She looked toward Ian again. "I did hear something though." There was curiosity there now, pushing aside some of the heaviness. "I heard you're a master of Makashi."

Jayna folded her hands behind her back as they walked, suddenly looking every bit the eager student she still was. "That's basically the only lightsaber form I haven't had much exposure to." Her brown eyes brightened noticeably. "I know the basics. The theory. But I've never really had anyone teach it."

A playful suspicion entered her tone. "So now I'm wondering if you've been secretly evaluating my footwork this entire walk." The grin widened. "Because if you have, I want notes."

She bumped her shoulder lightly against Ian's. "Actually, no." Jayna pointed a finger toward her dramatically. "You have to promise me." Her smile softened into something genuine. "Next time we're both feeling a little less broken, you have to show me some Makashi."

A brief pause followed. "At least a few moves." Then, with mock seriousness: "I need to know what all the fuss is about."

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The sudden, friendly shoulder bump caught Iandre entirely by surprise. It wasn't because the gesture was unwelcome, but because it was so completely effortless—a simple, grounding touch that anchored her firmly in the present. For a brief moment, the heavy ghost of Rellik receded, and Iandre found herself smiling without having to consciously give herself permission to do so first. Jayna's bright, stubborn enthusiasm was a difficult thing to resist.

"I believe your mother would absolutely tell you that it is ridiculous," she said gently, her voice carrying a warmth that had been missing for far too long. "And then she would probably remind you that happiness is not a finite resource that must be withheld until every problem in the galaxy is solved. Though," she added, the faint smile lingering with a touch of quiet self-awareness, "I suspect neither of us would enjoy hearing that advice nearly as much as we enjoy giving it to others."

When the conversation shifted toward lightsaber forms, something noticeably brighter entered her expression. It wasn't quite excitement, but a deep, comforting familiarity. Some subjects simply felt like old friends, providing a safe harbor where her instincts could stretch out without the burden of her recent grief.

"Ah," she murmured, the single syllable carrying an almost knowing, entirely playful quality. "So that is where this was leading." She listened while Jayna explained herself, the corners of her mouth gradually lifting higher as the younger woman became increasingly animated. By the time a formal promise was demanded, the heavy fog that had enveloped Iandre for months felt remarkably thin, replaced by genuine amusement.

"I promise," she answered without a shred of hesitation. "And for the record, I have not been secretly evaluating your footwork during this walk. Mostly because you have been walking peacefully beside me instead of trying to stab me—Makashi becomes considerably easier to evaluate under those specific circumstances."

For a few steps, she considered the broader question more seriously, her gaze drifting toward the winding path ahead as she sought the right words. "Most Jedi begin with Shii-Cho as their foundation and eventually develop habits from whatever forms best suit their temperament—often Shien or Djem So for the more direct personalities, with a bit of Soresu for survival. But Makashi is... different. Most forms ask how to overcome an opponent. Makashi asks how little effort is actually required."

She slowed her pace slightly, entirely focused on her companion now. "It is less concerned with brute strength than perfect precision. Less interested in overpowering someone than truly understanding them. It also has a habit of teaching humility, usually by letting you know that your positioning is not nearly as good as you thought. Mine included," she admitted easily, the confession completely free of pride.

Then, after a quiet moment of reflection, she turned her gray eyes fully toward Jayna. "When you are ready, I would be happy to teach you everything I know. Not because I think you strictly need Makashi, but because someone once took the time to teach it to me, and some things simply deserve to be passed on."

For a brief second, her thoughts drifted back toward Aisha. Remarkably, the memory didn't bring the usual sharp, twisting pain of loss; instead, it arrived as something familiar, settled, and profoundly affectionate. Looking back at the eager student beside her, Iandre smiled again, the humor returning to her eyes. "Though I should warn you. Once you learn enough Makashi, you begin developing rigid opinions about everyone else's footwork. It is a truly terrible affliction."

Jayna Ismet-Thio

 

[Jayna Ismet-Thio]

Objective: Distract and be distracted
Location: Veradune
Outfit: -X-
Tags: Iandre Athlea

Jayna listened with complete attention, her earlier grin never quite leaving as Ian spoke about Makashi. It was impossible not to get drawn in when someone talked about something they genuinely loved. The shift in Ian was subtle, but Jayna noticed it. The grief was still there—she could feel it—but discussing lightsaber forms seemed to let her breathe a little easier.

That alone made Jayna happy she'd asked. The warning about developing strong opinions on footwork earned an immediate laugh. "Oh no."

She shook her head dramatically. "You're telling me it's contagious?" A hand rose to her chest in mock horror. "I already spend enough time listening to Dad point out things I did wrong. I don't need another reason to critique people."

The smile lingered for a moment before her expression became more thoughtful. "I've actually been told Ataru is probably my natural form."

Her eyes drifted upward briefly as she recalled various lessons and observations from her instructors. "It makes sense, I guess. I'm not exactly the biggest person in a fight." She gave a small shrug. "Most of the feedback I've gotten has been that I rely on speed, movement, and creating angles instead of trying to overpower people."

There was a familiar honesty in the admission. "Mom used to say I spent more time in the air than on the ground." The memory brought a brief smile to her face. "And apparently I have a bad habit of treating gravity like a suggestion."

Jayna glanced toward Ian, curious what a Makashi specialist thought of that assessment. "I like moving. A lot. If I stay in one place too long during a fight it starts to feel wrong." Her hand unconsciously mimicked the motion of drawing a blade. "Though I don't know how well that fits with Makashi."

Then another thought struck her. Actually, a very important thought. "Oh!"

She pointed at Ian again, this time with the enthusiasm of someone who had just realized a potential complication. "What about two blades?" The question came immediately. "My main saber and my shoto."

Her expression became genuinely curious. "I know Makashi is traditionally a single-blade form, right?" Jayna tilted her head. "So am I going to spend months learning beautiful, elegant Makashi techniques only to completely ruin them by pulling out a second lightsaber?"

There was no real concern in her voice, only fascination. "If I'm being honest, using both blades feels as natural as breathing now. The shoto kind of... completes things." She rotated her wrist as though visualizing a sequence. "Main blade controls distance. Shoto catches openings. At least that's how it feels."

Then she looked back toward Ian. "Can Makashi work with that?" A grin slowly returned. "Or are you about to tell me I've chosen a life of terrible footwork and questionable decisions?"

The playful challenge was obvious, but beneath it was genuine eagerness. For the first time all evening, the thoughts of her missing mother, the unanswered questions, and the constant pressure sitting in her chest felt a little further away. Not gone. Just quieter. And for now, that was enough.

 

[Iandre Athlea]

A genuine laugh escaped Iandre then, soft and unexpected.

"I am afraid it may be terminal," she warned with a small smile. "One day you'll wake up and discover you have spent an entire meal silently evaluating the way someone moves. There is no known treatment."

For a little while, she simply listened, allowing Jayna's enthusiasm to carry the conversation forward. There was something comforting about it. Young people often spoke of lightsaber forms as though they were rigid categories to be chosen, but in reality, it was usually the reverse: a person revealed themselves through the way they fought long before they ever learned the names for it.

Nothing Jayna described surprised her. With the fluid movement, the explosive speed, and the stubborn refusal to remain where an opponent expected her to be. Even the comment about gravity earned the faintest, knowing shake of her head.

"Yes," she said thoughtfully, the breeze stirring a few loose strands of hair as she considered the younger woman's words. "That sounds very much like Ataru. I do not think your instructors are wrong. The way you move, the way you approach problems, even the way you describe combat. There really is a great deal of Ataru in you."

Then came the question of the second blade. That, more than anything else, seemed to capture her attention as a thoughtful look settled over her features.

"Ah," she murmured, the single word carrying the weight of a puzzle she genuinely enjoyed considering. "Now we arrive at the interesting part."

They continued down the path while she gathered her thoughts, her gaze drifting toward the sprawling gardens around them.

"Traditionally, Makashi was developed with a single blade in mind. Elegant lines, precise movements, and a great deal of emphasis on timing, distance, and economy. But traditions are useful guides, Jayna. They are not prisons. If using two blades feels as natural as breathing, then I would be very reluctant to train that instinct out of you. A lightsaber form should support who you are, not force you into becoming someone else."

For a few moments, she watched the path unfolding before them, letting the core philosophy settle.

"The interesting thing is that many of the principles behind Makashi remain useful regardless of how many blades you carry. Distance control, precision, reading an opponent, and understanding when a fight is actually won." She made a small, fluid motion with one hand, tracing an invisible line through the air to illustrate the point. "If you are already accustomed to wielding your lightsabers one-handed, then Form Two may serve you remarkably well in a pinch. Not as a replacement for your primary style, but as another tool you can draw upon when circumstances favor it. Your main blade controls the engagement, while the shoto closes gaps, protects openings, and disrupts attacks. That is not nearly as incompatible with Makashi as many people assume."

Silence settled comfortably between them for a few steps before she glanced over at Jayna. There was no instructor's judgment in her expression, nor any desire to mold the younger woman into some idealized duelist. There was only pure recognition.

"What you described is not someone trying to become a Makashi specialist," she said, a faint smile touching her lips as her voice filled with unmistakable approval. "It sounds like someone building her own style. And I think that is exactly what you should be doing. The greatest duelists I have known were not carbon copies of their teachers. They learned what was useful, discarded what was not, and over time became something uniquely themselves."

Her smile returned, warmer now, as her eyes drifted ahead once more.

"Besides, if I taught you Makashi exactly as I learned it, your parents would probably accuse me of trying to slow you down."

Jayna Ismet-Thio

 

[Mika Tai En]

Wrong account. Ignore

 

[Jayna Ismet-Thio]

Objective: Distract and be distracted
Location: Veradune
Outfit: -X-
Tags: Iandre Athlea

Jayna groaned dramatically at the diagnosis. "Great." She shook her head. "First the Jedi thing, now a chronic footwork condition." A hand pressed against her chest. "I had such a promising future."

The joke lingered between them for a few steps before her attention returned completely to what Ian was saying. Once the conversation shifted from humor back to forms and combat, Jayna became visibly more focused. She always did. It was one of the few subjects that could consistently capture her entire attention.

Hearing Ian confirm what others had said about Ataru brought a small smile to her face. It wasn't validation she necessarily needed, but it was reassuring coming from someone whose opinion she respected so much. "I think I've always been that way."

Her gaze drifted ahead as she thought about it. "Even before I picked up a lightsaber." A soft laugh escaped her. "Mom used to say if she turned her back for five minutes I'd somehow end up on top of something I wasn't supposed to climb."

The memory warmed her expression. "Usually because I wanted to see what was on the other side." Which, in hindsight, explained quite a lot.

As Ian explained how Makashi's principles could still apply to her style, Jayna listened intently. There wasn't a trace of joking now. She absorbed every word, mentally fitting the concepts together as she walked. Distance control. Precision. Understanding when a fight was already won.

Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. "That actually makes a lot of sense." She could immediately think of situations where she'd benefited from speed but lacked efficiency. Times when she'd worked harder than necessary because she'd been focused on winning through momentum instead of understanding what her opponent was doing.

When Ian described her building her own style, Jayna was quiet for several moments. The compliment landed deeper than she expected. Not because it praised her. Because it felt... freeing.

She'd spent so much of her life surrounded by legends. Her father. Her mother. Masters. Knights. Heroes. People whose footsteps seemed impossibly large to follow. The idea that she didn't have to become a copy of any of them felt unexpectedly comforting.

A smile slowly spread across her face. "I like that." The words were simple but sincere. "I love learning from people. Dad. Mom. You. Everyone."

She glanced over at Ian. "But I've never really wanted to be them." There was admiration in her voice, not rejection. "I want to be good enough that one day someone looks at the way I fight and says..."

Her smile widened. "'That's Jayna.'" The thought felt right. Not Ataru. Not Makashi. Not her father's style. Not her mother's. Hers.

Then Ian mentioned her parents accusing her of slowing Jayna down. The teenager laughed immediately. "Oh, Dad definitely would." There wasn't even a second of hesitation. "'Ian, why is my daughter standing still long enough for people to hit her?'"

Jayna did a remarkably accurate impression of Jax's concerned tone. Then she grinned. "Mom would probably just wait until I lost a spar and then ask if I was done being elegant."

The grin softened as she thought about it. For the first time all evening, the mention of her mother didn't come with the sharp ache she'd been carrying. Just warmth. A memory. A piece of her.

Jayna looked toward Ian again, the admiration she'd always carried now tempered by something more personal. Friendship. "I think I'd still like to learn it."

Her voice was quieter now. "Not to replace anything." She shook her head. "But because every person who teaches you something leaves a little piece of themselves with you."

A small smile touched her lips. "And I think that's worth carrying." For a moment she simply walked beside Ian, letting the evening settle comfortably around them. Then her eyes narrowed playfully. "Besides."

She pointed at her. "You already promised." There was no escaping that now.