Private Where Time Folds Back on Itself

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

Jairdain stepped off the landing ramp into the cavernous hangar, the echo of her boots faint in the high-vaulted space. Sage, the small green fox, trailed at her side—its golden motes of Force-light shimmering against the corrugated metal walls. She paused a moment, inhaling the recycled air, then moved with graceful purpose toward the edge of the docking bay.

Her travels had brought her across stars and silence alike, but this moment felt different: familiar. Her pale yellow eyes scanned the rows of ships, crew members, and walkers, attuned to the subtle stir of the Force in the space. There: a man standing slightly apart, his stance precise, his silver-ivory hair catching the half-light. Something in the rhythm of his posture recalled old footprints in memory.

She folded her hands behind her back and took measured steps. The Force whispered of time passed, of paths diverged and promises made in younger days. The hum of a vessel's engines filled the background, but it felt distant.

"Taiden," she said softly, her voice calm, deliberate. The word carried weight, not of accusation or regret, but of recognition. Sage paused, tail flicking once, as if listening.

When he turned, she offered the faintest of smiles. The years had carved lines in their journeys, but something older—something steady—still held. "It's been a long time," she said. "You've changed. And yet…You have not."

She inclined her head in respectful greeting. "If you have time," she continued, "I would walk with you for a span. There is much to ask, and perhaps there is much to share."

Her gaze flicked to the transports waiting beyond the ramp, then back to him. "The world ahead demands clarity… and companionship does not weaken a path; it steadies it."

Sage padded forward, settling quietly at Jairdain's feet, the fox's presence a soft anchor. Jairdain stood still, patient, ready to listen first—because she knew that the measure of a reunion was less in what was said and more in what was acknowledged.

Taiden Keth

 

[Taiden Keth]

Traditional Echani often had an ageless quality to them, too pure for time, some joked, too lightly reserved to let the years burden them. White-clad as ever, faintest trace of silver in the lining still, the only singular imperfection to that brilliance.

The respect in his bow was the same as ever. Eyes closed, head dipped. Kethborn sword across his back, and saber at his hip. He held it a short time before rising. Then did something surprising—if you didn't know him—he bowed also to the fox, the faintest of smiles perhaps on his face for her companion.

"Jairdain. It is a pleasure to see you again, too long without word or motion."
His body language shifted from pure formality to familiarity and openness, a subtle easing of his stance. The soft exhale of someone letting another into their world. His work never stopped, moving from one planet to the next assisting communities as the Silver Jedi always had. Nima had taught him to work with what was available, and Kei had often said the same. Underneath the notice of the great powers, where even a little light shone brightest.

"A walk sounds enlightening." Steps barely touching the ground as they moved with the same grace and poise. "So many paths exist for us to walk in this life, that I find myself at times, missing the ones shared." A frank admission, not loneliness, as he was around people all day, but rarely was there a quiet walk in company, free of the confines of ships or the slow hum of deliveries where they needed to be.

"Much changes on the surface, but beneath it the work remains," the central motion of things remained, and the cycles continued, and there was a certain warmth in that acceptance. His hands folded in front of himself as he walked, contemplative in nature, silver eyes reading her every gesture or movement more than her words. "But tell me of our happy reunion. Where do your attentions find themselves of late?"

Jairdain Ismet-Thio

 

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

She felt the change in him before he ever spoke—the slight loosening of his posture, the shift in the air that came when an Echani moved from formal readiness into something more personal. When he bowed to Sage, the fox gave an inquisitive sniff and pressed his small head lightly against Taiden's shin. Jairdain smiled softly, warmed by a gesture she did not need eyes to appreciate.

It had been a long time since Commenor. Longer still since she had allowed herself to think of that life without bracing against the ache that followed. Taiden's presence, steady as the flow of an old river, brought all those echoes to her more clearly than memories usually dared.

When he spoke—Where do your attentions find themselves of late?—the Force around her stirred with the weight of truth she could no longer leave untouched.

"Our last meeting was… a lifetime ago," she said quietly, her tone tinged with warm melancholy. Their last shared steps had been on Commenor—sun-washed courtyards, market voices drifting through the air, and the fragile peace she had once thought permanent. "Much has changed since then. More than I ever expected."

Sage brushed gently against her ankle, grounding her, sensing the shift in her breathing.

"I built a home there," she continued. "A family. My husband… my children… our lives were woven into the heart of that world." Her voice held calm, but not emptiness. Calm learned through grief rather than in its absence. "You saw some of it yourself—the beginnings of it. Hope growing in places where I had not thought to find it again."

They walked slowly, their steps aligning with the familiar grace of old companionship.

"But Commenor… changed," she said, the words carrying the heaviness of memory without bitterness. "The Empire came. And with them came threats dressed as diplomacy. Promises meant to break rather than bind. It became clear that staying meant being used—or being removed."

Her fingers trailed lightly along the smooth metal railing as they walked, the texture anchoring her as she crossed the years between then and now.

"My family was gone long before the Empire arrived," she admitted softly. "Loss came early… and it stayed. I remained on Commenor because running from grief changes nothing. I tried to honor what had been. But the galaxy has a way of uprooting even the most carefully tended gardens."

A slow breath left her chest—steady, resigned, real.

"So I left. Commenor was no longer home. I sought refuge with the Diarchy for a time, and its people gave me space to heal. But even that path shifts now, its purpose evolving into something new."

Sage trotted ahead, his small footfalls echoing softly. Jairdain lifted her chin toward Taiden, her attention wrapped gently around his presence.

"And so I have returned to Veradune," she said, certainty threading through her words. "There is ruin here, yes… but also resilience. A chance to rebuild something that can endure. To guide, to teach, to steady what has been shaken."

Her hand lightly brushed Taiden's forearm unless he pulled away—a gesture of connection offered in the quiet, reverent way the Echani understood best.

"It comforts me," she admitted, "that this path—whatever shape it becomes—begins with an old friend returning to it."

The smile that touched her lips was soft, genuine, unguarded.

"It is truly good to walk beside you again, Taiden. After all the years and all the worlds… it is good."

Taiden Keth

 

[Taiden Keth]

They walked in tandem, linked to rediscover steps they once made, all too brief though they may be. Taiden listened quietly and observantly as her story unfolded, old echoes settling into place. "You have carried much my Echenn, as all who have full lives may face." Sympathetic in how he stood beside his friend, not trying to sway or answer her, just listening and letting her unburden herself as much as she could. Trying to find equilibrium with her motion, to lighten her steps and ground his own upon this new world. He'd been long isolated in his own way, and that was a different type of burden to carry, as perhaps she felt now in separation from what she knew.

Taiden touched her linked arm, once in a gentle pat. "Our cycles of life carry the seeds of hope in every fall." He'd transferred many gardens as the Silver Jedi had moved locations, taking the last of Kashyyyk's, placed on the Silver Jedi's existence beyond the galaxy. Growth and renewal, decay and entropy, all inescapable forces of creation.

"May I suggest something bold." He let the words linger, taking several more steps, ample time for her to refuse. "Do not seek to endure, only experience and live." It had been the ruin of far too many hopes, lives and dreams. "Endurance has no guarantee, but life always finds us." Like this walk, like the time with her family and husband, and whatever Veradune would become to her.

It is good to walk beside you again Taiden. She'd feel his body relax somewhat at that, shifting from consoling friend to happy companion. It was good. A time to enjoy apart from it all. He turned his mind to his many questions, always there and curious, a trait that had never left the scholar.

"Tell me more of your world Veradune." His free arm moved lightly as if to indicate opportunity and a graceful curiosity for his surroundings. "And.." His voice softened a touch, "… is there a garden?" A warmth contained beyond the words.

Jairdain Ismet-Thio

 

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

The soft pat to her arm settled into her awareness with the familiarity of old footsteps retraced—an Echani gesture layered with meaning: comfort, acknowledgment, shared breath. Jairdain let it anchor her, not to the past, but to the simple truth of the present. She felt him shift, his energy expanding subtly, the tension he'd held for her sake easing into something warmer, lighter. It touched her like morning sunlight through old stone—unexpected, but welcome.

When he spoke of endurance and living, she felt the words resonate in the Force, his sincerity carrying far more weight than the philosophy itself. "Experience and live…" she echoed softly. "You speak truth. Endurance is hollow without the things we endure for." A small breath, almost a laugh, slipped through her composure. "You remind me that I am allowed to choose life again, not merely survival."

Sage trotted ahead a few paces, then returned to brush against both their legs as if urging them onward. Their movements in tandem settled into an older rhythm—one born on Commenor's quiet streets, revived now in the heart of an entirely different world.

When Taiden asked about Veradune, about gardens, she felt a faint stir of amusement. His curiosity had always been gentle but thorough, shaped like water flowing toward any available depth.

"Veradune," she began, letting the name roll through her voice as though tasting the air it carried, "is a world where nature is not simply alive—it is sovereign."

She turned her face slightly toward the sound of distant air traffic beyond the spaceport walls, but what she felt was the pulse of the planet beneath all of it.

"The forests are vast and wild, older than many civilizations. The air is thick with the scent of earth and canopy. Predators move with purpose, not malice, and the world teaches respect with every breath." She took a few slow steps as she spoke, the floor humming under her feet, but her mind was walking old paths through living wood. "Every creature here is capable. Every plant is either healing or deadly, sometimes both. Nothing on Veradune survives by accident."

Her hand brushed lightly along his again, the gesture steady and sure.
"It is not a world one tames. It is a world one joins."

Taiden's quiet question—Is there a garden?—coaxed a smile from her that warmed her voice.

"There are no gardens in the traditional sense," she said. "Not tidy rows or curated beds. But…" A thoughtful pause. "If you know how to listen—truly listen—then the entire world is a garden—a living tapestry of growth and decay, predator and prey, balance and rebirth. Everything here teaches. Everything here changes you."

Sage gave a tiny chuff, as if in agreement, tail flicking with pride for his wild homeland.

"I believe you would appreciate it," she added gently. "Not because it is safe, but because it is honest. The Veran forests do not lie about what they are. They demand presence, awareness, and respect—much like the Echani do."

She turned toward him fully, her presence a soft but focused warmth brushing against his in the Force.

"If you wish to see this world—through your perception and mine—I would be honored to show you. The paths are dangerous, yes, but not forbidding. Not when walked with intention."

A subtle tilt of her head, a quiet invitation.

"And perhaps… together, we can find a place where a garden may begin. Not to tame Veradune, but to honor it."

Sage bounded ahead again, eager, sensing their next steps forming.

Jairdain extended her hand toward Taiden—not to guide him, but to walk beside him.

"Come. Let me show you my world."

Taiden Keth

 

[Taiden Keth]

You wouldn't know it at a glance, but the son of Keth listened as though her words were the finest book ever written, one spoken by the living world itself, carried to him by the voice of a friend. It was the kind of tale he could have sat beside a fire and listened to endlessly. He had been raised on stories of his ancestor Aiden, Raien's brother, who lived with such unbroken grace that a speck of dust might have seemed too much against the image of him in his quiet cottage. A quaint hovel of history Taiden could not fully shake from his imagination, sketched as if he were there himself.

"The imagery you draw is of a connected whole," he said softly, "ever in motion. It is healthiest when nature is allowed freedom to shape itself. The more we resist or demand, the less balance there is to find."

At the edge of the path, he extended his hand, brushing a broad green leaf with care. A small insect hopped upon his palm, and he cupped it gently, carrying it with them for a few steps. An uncomfortable memory surfaced, one of a soul trapped in his ancestor's tomb, tension in the walk, releasing the creature as soon as he felt it was safe.

Yet… whatever it was in him eased. The scholar inside welcomed the walk, his step lightening, not gliding above the ground as Matsu had taught him, but settling into a grace that honored the world beneath them. Each placement of his foot was deliberate and respectful, done to ensure nothing living was unduly disturbed.

Her words came to him.
Let me show you my world.

He bowed his head toward her, a spark of warmth behind silver eyes. "Let us walk its paths together unnanounced," he replied, "so that the mystery may unfold on the journey itself." There was only one thing Taiden cherished more than gardening or scholarly study, and that was a mystery shared.

When she spoke of gardens and of Veradune as a living story rather than a tended plot, he turned his face fully toward her once more. "I would very much like that," Taiden whispered, sincerity almost as vivid as the forest he imagined. The idea of a new garden, one not shaped by hand but honored and tended by their presence, brought subtle joy to his voice. "To respect and honor that from which we draw life and bounty"

He bowed his head slightly, holding it while he spoke, "My humblest thanks, my Echenn, for inviting me to share in your homeworld." It was unheard of for him to take a vacation. And yet here he was, walking beside her, letting Veradune's natural call come to him, through word and walk.

Jairdain Ismet-Thio

 

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

Taiden's quiet attention washed over her like a tide, steady and sincere. She had always known his listening was different from most—a kind of reverence, as though every word she spoke became part of a larger tapestry he tended in the quiet of his mind. Even without sight, she could feel the subtle shifts in his posture, the way his presence leaned toward her with soft gravity, the scholar in him absorbing each texture of meaning as though she were reading to him from a cherished book.

But today… There was something else.
A loosening.
A quieting inside him that she rarely sensed.

Veradune's forests had a way of stripping people back to their truth.

She smiled gently when the insect landed on his palm, sensing the care with which he held and released it. His awareness carried echoes—old tensions, memories bound to bloodline and legacy—but the forest seemed to unspool those knots with every step they took. He walked not above the ground as a trained master, but with it, honoring it in the Echani way: with respect, with intention, with quiet grace.

"I am glad the forest speaks to you," Jairdain said softly, her voice barely rising above the whisper of leaves overhead. "It accepts those who walk gently. Those who listen."

A breeze stirred, threading through the branches above, carrying the scent of moss and shadowed soil. She felt the movement not in color or shape, but in the brush of cool air against her skin and the subtle tremor in the canopy. Sage darted a few steps ahead, pausing only long enough to glance back with the bright curiosity that marked Veradune's small hunters.

"Nature does shape itself best when left unrestrained," she continued, turning her face toward him. "It remembers its balance long after people forget theirs."

When Taiden bowed his head—Echani gratitude in its purest, most graceful form—her breath caught with quiet affection, she lifted a hand and brushed her fingertips lightly over the back of his knuckles, a gesture of equal reverence, one that required no sight to be precise.

"You honor this world simply by walking it as you do," she murmured. "Veradune does not need tamers or conquerors. Only witnesses. Only caretakers."

His words—Let us walk its paths together unannounced—bloomed in her chest like a small pulse of joy.

"Yes," she said, her voice warm as sunlit bark. "Let the forest reveal itself on its own terms. You and I will ask nothing of it except permission to know it."

They moved forward again, the path narrowing into shadow-dappled soil. The songs of unseen creatures echoed deep in the trees, some melodic, some unsettling, all vibrantly alive. Jairdain took each step with the surety of someone who had walked these wild lands before, her feet guided not by sight but by the Force and the subtle shifts in Sage's movements.

When Taiden spoke of honoring the life from which they draw strength, his sincerity filled the air like a soft chord.

Jairdain's smile was felt rather than seen. "Then you will find much to love here. Veradune teaches generosity and danger in equal measure. It offers roots only to those willing to kneel in its soil."

At his final bow, she inclined her head in return—deep, deliberate, the kind of gesture she gave only to those who had earned a place in the quieter chambers of her heart.

"My world is richer with you in it, Taiden," she said, her voice low and tender. "And I am grateful beyond words that you walk beside me. Not as a visitor… but as a friend who sees with his spirit, not his eyes."

Sage chirped, the fox's tiny paws pattering forward as if urging them deeper.

"Come," Jairdain added gently, extending her hand toward the subtle warmth of his presence. "The forest has more mysteries to show us."

And with that, their steps fell into perfect, familiar synchrony—Jairdain walking by the whispering guidance of the Force, Taiden by the clear light before him—two friends moving deeper into a world that revealed its truths to those who listened more than those who looked.

Taiden Keth

 

[Taiden Keth]

"Very true. People without nature are forever out of balance."

Her words came like a fresh breeze through the trees, a contrast to the artificial ground and the grinding pressure of machine meeting man. Here, melodic creatures sang, and his keen silver eyes found the motion of life in every direction, embracing it whole.

He stood for a long moment beside her, unhurried, held in shared wonder. When he finally turned toward her, his eyes were bright, silver and alive, though she could not see. There was a lightly elevated heartbeat in his chest, matching the catch in her breath, the brush of her hand, and his subtle pivot of stance toward her.

"A thousand lifetimes, and we might know the leaf, stem, or bark."
His voice seemed framed within the majesty of their surroundings. "We become part of the land through generational understanding." A truth lost in the modern age, where people moved, and moved, and kept moving, pressed onward by war and chaos stressing survival. Kei had shared that understanding with him once, even if Taiden had never found such rooted homeland himself.

"My ancestor said the land needs to know us just as much. It took me many years to understand that."
A small creature hopped onto a branch to observe them before skittering away again. Taiden's eyebrow lifted in quiet amusement, the delicate rest of her hand against his arm laying a wordless dialect between them.

No question of the thousands he'd asked life could ever substitute for living it.
Symbiosis, shared life, was a lofty goal, sought by too few. And the consequences were cycles of imbalance, where people folded into smaller and smaller disconnected groups, forgetting the wider world that made them whole, and just trying to survive each other.

He inhaled deeply, sensing the forest opening up itself to them.

Come, the forest has more mysteries to show us.

"Our friend knows the way," he said softly, nodding toward Sage, while the fox trotted bravely ahead on one more adventure.

And Taiden followed, silent and reverent for their path to come.

Jairdain Ismet-Thio

 

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

Jairdain felt the forest shift around them as naturally as breath—the leaves stirring not from wind but from presence, from recognition. Veradune was ancient, aware, and it pressed lightly at the edges of her senses like a hand brushing through tall grass. But Taiden's words, and the softening in his presence as he spoke them, touched her far more deeply.

"That is wisdom many spend a lifetime trying to understand," she murmured, tilting her face toward him. "The land knowing us… that is a truth older than any Order or teaching. It is a connection without demand. Understanding without conquest."

She heard the lift in his heartbeat, soft and subtle—a quickening she seldom sensed in him. A shift toward her in the Force, gentle but unmistakably earnest. She did not pretend to see it with eyes she did not have; she felt the warmth of it the way one feels sunlight on skin.

Her breath caught again, matching the flutter she sensed in him. Not from fear. From wonder. From recognition.

"You honor your ancestor well," she said softly. "To walk the world with humility, to offer yourself to the land rather than take from it—that is a gift many forget is even possible."

A small creature scurried across a branch above them, its movements light and curious. Sage perked up but didn't chase—his instincts tuned to something deeper, something older. Jairdain felt the fox's awareness like a small beacon, gently pulling at the edges of the path.

"He's listening," she said with a smile, the warmth of it threading into her voice. "Sage always listens when the land speaks. And Veradune is… generous with him."

She stepped forward, her hand still lightly touching Taiden's arm, the contact grounding her in both the physical and the unseen. The forest's pulse echoed through her feet like a heartbeat—steady, wild, powerful.

"You're right," she added quietly. "People without nature become unrooted. Lost. But here… even the broken parts of us have somewhere to rest."

Veradune's presence swelled slightly around them, as if acknowledging her words.

Jairdain angled her head toward him again, sensing the reverence in his movements, the way he accepted this place without trying to shape it to his own image.

"I am glad you are here," she said, a gentle honesty warming the air between them. "You walk lightly. You hear what others overlook. The forest sees that."

Sage chirped and darted ahead through a curtain of ferns, tail flicking like a small green flame.

Jairdain laughed softly. "And yes… our friend knows the way. He always does."

She released Taiden's arm only to lace her fingers briefly through his—an unspoken thanks, a gesture of trust and companionship—before letting her hand fall once more to her side.

"Come," she said, her voice low and serene. "Veradune opens its paths to those who walk with respect. And today… It opens them to us."

And with that, she followed Sage deeper into the living cathedral of the forest, her steps light, Taiden's steady beside hers, the wild world unfurling its mysteries one breath at a time.

Taiden Keth

 

[Taiden Keth]

"Understanding without conquest," Taiden repeated softly, "the great peacemaker. If only all worlds welcomed one into balance so naturally."

"You honor me with your kindness."
Taiden bowed his head, eyes closed for an extended time. Her words of ancestry resonated with the moment so deeply he felt as though the Force had arranged their steps. "I do not doubt those who love you, are more than proud of the woman you have become."

As they walked, he found himself as fascinated by Sage's alert scurrying as by the visions unfolding before him. The fox's movements drew his attention again and again to each pause and investigation. "He has found a land that truly appreciates him," Taiden offered, his expression watchful and reverent.

"I agree there is enough healing here for many."
The thought warmed him. Some of his more wayward friends, with spirits cracked or hurting might find wholeness here too.
"Perhaps…"
He stopped himself, unwilling to bring too many to this place, to risk diminishing its balance or staining its quiet generosity.

Instead he walked mind wandering to what he loved and she and this world brought out of him.
"One day I hope I can bring what we see here to more worlds." Small gestures, reconnecting what others had lost.

Her touch along his arm drew his attention back to her.
"Your steps are also made with care," he said with a small smile, watching the forest reveal itself.. Their friend sage navigating as their hands parted ways.

"Jairdain… I have never asked, because it was not my place."
He took a few quiet steps before finding the right shape for the question.
"Do you feel the motion? What is it like to… speak here?"
The words were careful, vulnerable in their own way.

There was a subtle limitation in Taiden most didn't know. Taiden could not use the Force for motion: no push, no pull, or manipulation of anything beyond himself. It closed certain doors that others walked through freely.

"What does it feel like… to move here?"
The first time he had ever admitted such a thing to anyone but Nima, his former master.

To the Echani, movement was language, truth expressed from motion. And though Taiden could perceive that truth, feel it passively like wind brushing skin, he could never speak it through the Force. As though a giant speaker was against his ear, broadcasting a sound he could not communicate.

Jairdain Ismet-Thio

 

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

Jairdain slowed when he spoke her words back to her, the faintest shift of breath catching in her chest. Understanding without conquest. Yes… that was the heart of Veradune, of the Force as she knew it, of everything she had ever hoped to embody. And hearing the phrase shaped in Taiden's voice — a voice grounded in discipline and heritage — gave it new resonance.

When he bowed his head, eyes closed for more than a heartbeat, she felt it rather than saw it—a quiet stillness radiated from him, a kind of reverence not born of duty but sincerity. The forest responded in kind — leaves brushing lightly overhead, somewhere a deep-rooted beast exhaling from its den as if accepting their presence.

His words about those who loved her made her smile, soft and warm. "I can only hope so," she murmured. "Life is long, and I have walked it in many directions. But every path has shaped me gently, even the painful ones." Her fingers brushed a smooth piece of bark as they passed. "And much of who I have become… comes from the kindness of others."

Sage darted ahead again, tiny paws stirring the moss in purposeful swirls. Jairdain followed his movements not visually but through the small, bright ripple of his life in the Force — lively, inquisitive, fearless. Taiden's admiration of the fox touched her more than she expected.

"He has always belonged to the wild far more than to me," she said, voice carrying a soft fondness. "Yet he stays. That tells me as much about this world as it does about him."

When Taiden spoke of healing — healing for many — she felt a tug of something deeper in him, a wish held close and rarely named. The forest stirred around them, acknowledging the sincerity behind his almost-unspoken desire. She didn't press him. She walked with him, allowing the moment to breathe.

His quiet confession — One day I hope I can bring what we see here to more worlds — warmed her profoundly. "And you will," she said. "Not by force or design, but by the way you walk. Peace spreads from those who carry it."

It was his next question, however, that drew her to a gentle halt.

Jairdain… I have never asked… Do you feel the motion? What is it like to… speak here?

She turned toward him fully, the forest's breath washing over her like a tide. His vulnerability was quiet, honest, unadorned — the kind of openness few ever showed her, and fewer still understood how to give.

She stepped closer, her presence warm and calm, hands relaxed at her sides.

"It feels," she began softly, "like standing inside a heartbeat."

She let the words linger, expanding into the space between them.

"The tree roots under the soil, the shifting of creatures in burrows, the sway of each leaf — it all moves, even when it looks still. And to me, that is motion. That is language. I don't need to see shapes to understand the world here." She lifted a hand, allowing a breeze laden with the scent of moss and loam to brush across her palm. "Everything speaks. Not in words… but in pulses, in rhythm, in resonance."

She tilted her head, searching him with her Force-sense, sensing the edges of the truth he had never voiced aloud.

"You cannot reach outward," she said gently. "Not the way most do. You perceive, but do not touch. You listen, but do not push." She wasn't guessing — she felt it, the slight hollowness where the outward flow would have been.

"It is not a lack," she whispered. "It is a different language."

She moved her hand slowly, letting her fingers drift just close enough to brush the back of his without truly taking it — an offering, not an assumption.

"When I walk here, Taiden… the world gathers around me. Not because I command it, but because the Force fills my blank spaces with its own sight. I do not move the forest. The forest moves with me."

A breath of wind curled around them, stirring Sage's fur as the fox paused to look back.

"But you—" she continued, her voice lowering with meaning, "—you move with the forest. Not through the Force, but through spirit, through intent, through the language of your body. You speak truth with your steps."

She smiled, a soft thing full of understanding.

"So yes," she said. "I feel the motion. But not the same way you do. And what you cannot do with Force techniques, you do with presence. With clarity." She lifted his hand lightly in hers, guiding it to the vibration of a nearby tree trunk — the deep pulse of life beneath bark and sap.

"Do you feel that?" she asked softly. "That is how I speak. That is how I listen."

Her fingers remained resting lightly on his, reverent and steady.

"And you… Taiden… have always spoken clearly. Even when you thought you were silent."

Taiden Keth

 

[Taiden Keth]

A beast's distant call drew his ear, the sound threading between trees until he found its den in the weave of the forest's own voice.

"Kindness is too often in short supply," he said gently. "But a life lived such as yous, perhaps it has granted kindness to come."
The world did not always reveal its fairness in the moment, sometimes not for years, sometimes not at all. He almost chuckled at the thought. But… "one day all things are to happen." Ever hopeful.

Above, a bird groomed its companion before taking to its wings. Taiden watched it rise, his eyes following the line of its flight far toward the horizon, seemingly abandoning its mate... until the call returned, long and sure as the dawn. The second bird launched, swift and trusting they'd find it.

He smiled softly.

When she spoke of Sage, Taiden's gaze drifted forth to the fox's darting steps. "What does he love most of all?" he wondered aloud. "Food? Adventure? Mystery?" The question didn't need answering. They were experiencing the truth of their journey together.

Part of him still resisted believing he could bring the peace she imagined of him. Sustaining balance was possible, yet always against a tide. He dipped his head at her words, avoiding acknowledgement either way. For him, an Echani avoiding anything overt was unusual enough to be telling.

She spoke of motion, his, the forest, the Force, and though an Echani might not blush, she might have seen it in the faint brightening of his eyes. Damn their stoicism.

When she guided his hand to the tree, hand over his, the bark vibrated gently beneath his palm. He flattened his hand against it, then rested his forehead to the trunk, savoring their subtleties. "Cona mi, asorotune," he whispered, eyes closed to lengthen their shared moment.

Matsu had once told him that, in time, he would understand worlds more deeply than he ever expected, speak to them in his own way. Perhaps this was what she meant.

"Will you allow more of this?" he asked. Though the words were directed toward the bark, they were also for Jairdain, permission sought on two levels. He drew back a breath. "Is there anywhere that sings to you? As a theater might to another?" Curiosity and wonder, not envy or want. He looked at her then, not for sight, but for her presence, open in a way he had never been with anyone but Nima.

Jairdain Ismet-Thio

 

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

The beast's distant cry resonated through her awareness long before Taiden named it. Veradune carried sound differently—threads of vibration wove themselves into the soil, the bark, the air itself—and she listened to it with the ease of someone returning to a language they had learned long ago. Her head tilted slightly, letting the call ripple across her skin like ripples of water against stone.

"Kindness is never owed," she said quietly, "but sometimes we are lucky enough to cross paths with those who give it freely."

His gentle optimism brushed against her like a warm wind, the same quiet hope she had always felt in him, even when he didn't speak it aloud. The world didn't always return kindness in equal measure, but Taiden's belief in eventual balance was something she found herself wanting to protect rather than correct.

When the two birds parted and rejoined overhead, she felt the moment through their wingbeats—the flutter of tension, the hush of reunion. Taiden's subtle smile carried in the air between them, and she matched it with one of her own.

"He sees adventure in everything," she answered when he commented on Sage, her tone soft with fondness. "Every scent, every shadow, every rustle of the leaves is a potential mystery. And he loves company—perhaps more than he pretends."

Sage, as if proving her point, made a delighted chirring sound and brushed against Taiden's ankle before bounding ahead once more.

Taiden's presence shifted then, quieting in that way he had when her words landed deeper than he expected. She felt the warmth rise subtly in him, a stirring of shy admiration he rarely showed outright. Jairdain's own breath deepened, a soft smile forming at the edges of her lips.

When she guided his hand to the tree, she felt the slight hesitation—the kind that spoke of reverence, not fear. His palm flattened against the bark, and as he leaned into it, she felt the shift in the tree's rhythm as it acknowledged him. Veradune was a living world; those who listened mattered to it.

"Cona mi, asorotune," he whispered.

The language moved through him like a memory made of breath and bone. She didn't know the words, not precisely, but she felt their meaning in the way the forest quieted around them.

"Of course," she whispered when he asked if she would allow more of this—though she knew his question had two layers. "Anywhere you wish to hear, I will guide your steps. And anywhere you wish to speak, the forest will answer."

The trees around them rustled softly, not in wind alone but in recognition—two presences walking in harmony rather than intrusion. She stepped closer to him, her shoulder brushing his lightly, inviting but not overwhelming.

When he asked whether any place sang to her, she lifted her face to the canopy as though sunlight touched her eyes.

"Yes," she murmured. "There are places where the Force gathers in currents… warm, like hearth-fire. Others where it moves cool and slow, like moonlit water. I seek those places instinctively, the same way others follow familiar stars."

Her voice softened, carrying a note she reserved only for moments of truth.

"But the first world that ever held me—truly held and listened—was Voss."
A warm breath escaped her, tinged with memory. "It was where I first learned the meaning of being heard. And where I first met you."

She brushed her fingertips along the Veradunian bark again, the grain humming under her touch.

"Veradune is different. Wilder. Sharper. It listens too… but in its own way. It tests before it accepts. And it teaches softly only once you've earned its trust."

She turned toward him then—not with sight, but with presence. Her awareness shaped his outline, his warmth, his quiet awe, the careful discipline beneath it.

"There is a place not far from here," she continued softly, "where the roots of the forest grow over an old chasm. It hums like a chorus in the Force. I used to sit there for hours. If you would like… I can take you."

Her hand lifted just slightly between them—an invitation, not an assumption.

"Let the world speak to us both."

Taiden Keth