Private A Godless Endeavor

[Loske Treicolt]

"I think I'm pretty far from your keeper." Loske dispelled, and was more than fine with that relativity. As for another master, didn't want another teacher. She inherently learned from many, though Cedric was her sounding board. There were a lot of options and stuff happening right now.

Are you saying you don't want to be a Jedi?

That was a big question. Loske wanted to be a good person, who protected those who couldn't with her innate abilities and apparent connection to The Force. It seemed that type of person was categorized as a Jedi throughout the galaxy. They got a fancy sword, the ability to commune with the metaphysical - lots of things she was doing and was keen to continue with.

P Placeholder 0128 didn't waste much time getting to his next thought -- which resulted in her simpering at the Order's expense. More titles. There were names for everything! Powers, positions...she supposed it would have helped when The Order was at its height - making sure everyone fell into a distinct category so there was no conflict between do-gooders and everyone knew their role. In a system as disparate as the galaxy was now, having such a title felt ineffectual. But, it seemed important to Cedric to be able to categorize his company, so she'd compromise her ideals on vanity for his sake. Besides, he'd been a part of the galaxy much longer than she had, and probably had base for his opinions rather than frustrations that oriented from a train of thought not her own. She couldn't suck his soul and expect to get away with it - that was selfish.

"Yes, okay." His quick thinking of a position that seemed to suit her needs was appreciated, and she gave an agreeable nod. "Then I can be a watchwoman....part of the ancient swaths of watchmen." As additional reinforcement to her acquiescence, she tightened her grip on their mutual hand-hold one-time, in lieu of a handshake.

“Which Jedi path do you tread?” He’d spoken of Padawans, Knights, Masters and Grandmasters before - but this was the first she’d heard of any watchmen business.

 

[Placeholder 0128]

A wave of relief washed over Cedric as she agreed to his suggestion. Her insistence of rebuilding the order not being for her had brought forth dozens of doubts to the forefront of his mind. Had he failed in his teachings? Had another group proven itself more appealing to her? Was the Jedi way simply incompatible to her temperament?

To have these cast aside was more than welcomed. Perhaps it was selfish, but Cedric had never finished a padawan's training. They had all either turned away from his teachings, or been slain doing their duty. To have another, and to have that one be whom he cared about the most - it certainly wouldn't have been good for his self-esteem.

"Only a handful of people have the right mindset to be watchmen. Theirs is a sect of the order that has probably done more good for the galaxy than any other; they watch over sectors of space helping whomever they can, doing the ground work that is the very basis of being a Jedi. The watchmen were the greatest of the Jedi Sentinels, a Watchmen would watch over a sector of space with several Sentinels beneath them. I'd intended to see their sect of the order revived, as they've been extinct for centuries. Perhaps you'll be the first." He squeezed her hands back, a soft smile lighting up his features. Truthfully he was just happy the conversation wouldn't be bringing about any big changes to their relationship - he'd grown rather used to Loske's company, to say the least.

"Me?" He'd rarely had the opportunity to speak of it before. "I am a Jedi Guardian. We concern ourselves with matters of war and combat, focusing on military leadership, channeling the Force to augment our bodies, and generally serving as the closest thing to a soldier the Jedi have. It's not the path I wanted to walk, but the one life required of me. The other two paths are that of the Consular, keepers of lore, diplomats, and theologians of the Force, and Sentinels, which are essentially what I've already described to you. Watchmen are sentinels that are considered masters."

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The lore of the Watchmen was shared. She only got a little lost when he threw in another title, Sentinels, but was quickly able to reference how the two were related. Things seemed simpler back when Jedi were...Jedi. The dichotomy of good and bad a little clearer.

P Placeholder 0128 obliged her question. He bore his title with haste, a forthright explanation of the expectation and typical capacity of a Guardian. It sounded cool. It was worth noting, with some upset, that more than once in their dialogues had he been remiss about the chasm between the path he was on, and the path he wanted to be. "Would you have wanted to be a Consular?" Loske pried, angling her head slightly. "Do they not blend very well together, you have to pick just one?"

Against her shins, Goldie was causing some friction - requiring attention. She loosened her grip on her favoured companion's hands and stooped down to pet the critter before backing up again and suggesting they continue their conversation with some mobility now that the weight of the world had been lifted from their relationship's shoulders. Until he brought something up again.

Happy to be moving again, the trio of Anari excitedly took some liberties in stepping in front of Loske and Cedric's feet this time around, rather than trailing behind dutifully.

 

[Placeholder 0128]

She seemed to take the information well. For all her seeming desire not to be tied down, Loske took well to the Jedi teachings. She'd been one of his more attentive students, though he had not intention of telling her that. There was enough feeding Loske's ego already, "Definitely. It was the path I always expected I'd walk, but life dictated another one. I don't regret being a guardian. My martial expertise has saved my life several times, but I do sometimes wonder if I would have been happier spending my life in a library."

He smiled wistfully at the thought, just as the Anari began chirping, trying to get them to move forward. Cedric finally obliged, his eyes never leaving the trio of babies. There's be no falling off the side of the cliff today.

"They can blend, but the path you choose is generally what you specialize in. A Guardian will spend far more time in the field than studying. A Consular will be less at home on the battlefield, and more likely to devote their time to politics, or studying the Force. Sentinels are a bit of a mix between the two. They're generally more worldy - grounded in reality. They focus on both paths while also learning normal skills to solve their problems: like you ability to pilot."

A pause.

"I understand it might all seem a bit trivial now that there is no overarching order to categorize Jedi in, but the paths are tried and tested means of learning the ways of the Force. You know what you're working toward with them. Without them, you may end up with many skills, but nothing you're exceptional at."

No more relationship sinkers coming from him. At least not for the rest of the week.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Spending a lifetime amidst pages of stories written by other people seemed temporarily enthralling, but would tire quickly. At some point, after all that reading about heroism, debacles, trials, triumphs, failures, spells, famines, other sentient plights, one would want to try their hand at replicating the efforts from the penned words.

Having a specialization was useful. She supposed it was someone who took their studies like a "T". Starting out with a narrow focus, honing in on their specialty, and then branching out. Akin to her. Her unilateral specialty was getting behind the steering wheel of anything with success. The machinations were well-practiced and flowed with perceived ease. The same as memorizing and recalling lore with enough practice, swinging a lightsaber, and then tacking on other requirements when required. She hmm'd to remind him she was listening.

"The Jedi way is ancient, I trust you." Loske admitted, keeping a pace that put some pressure on the little Anari to keep ahead of them, but not adding any further latency to their descent. The sun was also beginning set. And she wanted to get back to the landing pad before too late. S.S. Bruno didn't have any refreshers, and the village probably had something semi-public...perhaps. At least something to get rid of the blood, sweat and mud before zipping through the stars again. "Seems the main Jedi issues stem from an organizational level, rather than a theoretical one."

The stairs were spiralling to the open field below, and the Anari happily made a trot from the final step to the grass. It fascinated them. The first time the little green blades had tickled their nose. With explorative interest, they sniffed about, testing it if they could tug at it with their little mouths and claws.

P Placeholder 0128

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Cedric had privately worried that Loske might reject the more rigid structures of the Jedi path. She had a rebelliousness to her that didn't jive perfectly with all the teachings of the Jedi, though it would be a lie to say that Cedric hadn't found it attractive. Just another thing not to tell Loske about. Ego filling and all that.

"I'd hope so at this point, otherwise I'd be a little worried about my judge of character," he replied, a soft smile finding its way onto his features as they reached the end of the stair-well. Despite himself, Cedric could not deny that the Anari certainly were cute. He was privately more than a little excited to have the babies around, scientific interest set aside.

"You're right on that one. We're just too seperate. Jedi don't function well if we aren't centralized. We gain part of our power from one another." Cedric explained. "If something could be done to unite us...a council with every leader on it, perhaps? I don't know. It's been tried many times, I tried my hand at it myself, but the differences between the Jedi these days are broader than you'd think."

He paused in the walk to kneel down next to the Anari. The beasties proceeded to tackle him, bubbling and gurgling as they playfully assaulted the Jedi. Cedric couldn't help but laugh as he swatted their little tongues away from his face, his arms jutting out just enough to push the infants aside, for the moment.

Cedric looked up at Loske from his place on the ground, a stupid grin on his face. "I'll admit the Anari have endeared me, a little bit."

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Talk about judging of character - they were both going out on a limb on the old, stalwart opposites attract tree. It seemed fitting for a mutual jab. "Hey - me too."

She didn't respond to the plight of the galaxy's Jedi, though she mentally likened it to a rose. The petals were beautiful separated from the stem and central blossom, but it was most effective when all the petals were together. That's the intention of that creation, and its purpose. A rose by any other name...an order by any other name...the imagery felt suitable in her mind's eye. Roses didn't reach out to one another naturally. Gardeners were responsible for their unification.

It took an external force.

The knee-high mirthful exchange brought a genuine smile to her face. "They've endeared you?" There was a shake of her head before she unfolded her arms and pf'awed at the air dismissing the hard-won sentiment delivered by P Placeholder 0128 . "Good thing they didn't know you were playing so hard to get. You'd have broken their little hearts."

 

[Placeholder 0128]

"At least we've both got our heads on straight," Cedric snickered as he leaned down to scratch at the white-scaled beast's head. The creature crooned at his touch, mewling happily at the receiving of head scratches.

"You know my heart is hard to gain Loske. I have to maintain that cold exterior, otherwise people won't take me seriously," he added, a hint of good humor lacing his words as he scooped the white-scale into his arms. The infant wasn't terribly heavy, and the guilt he felt when the green-scaled creature stared up at him forced the Jedi Master to grab up that one two.

Carrying them both was a bit taxing, but they were cute. He'd live with it.

"Let's go home. I need a bath, among several others things."

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Making the newly created creatures walk seemed cruel, so Loske followed suite and scooped Goldie up into her arms as well. The little thing spent a lot of time acquainting itself with the jut out saberteeth that were beginning to form at the corners of its mouth. She was conscious of the slurping sounds and here and there it would poke against her clavicle as if trying to test the strength of its bones, versus hers. Loske had to adjust its hold each time it tried with a grimace. If it kept up, she'd be going home with two puncture wounds.

The walk back to the ship was filled with less anticipation than the prior trek and night was beginning to fall. The Chandrilan sun's warmth was replaced with a cool breeze and a pastel hued sky. It seemed there wasn't a thing out of sorts on this planet. Although, they'd only seen a fractal of it. That was the beauty of the galaxy. While they had the privilege to hop, skip, and jump from planet to planet on a whim, there were many citizens that spent their lives dedicated to the exploration of a single rock. There were those that knew of this tomb, and the most efficient way to the silver shores of the sea.

S.S. Bruno's hyperdrive class was coming in at the speedier end of the spectrum at a 1.5, which meant days versus weeks for travel. And Chandrila was only about a sector away from Coruscant - which meant they'd probably have to sit in their own filth for like, eighteen-nineteen hours. Bruno only had a measly basin. She wrinkled her nose as she mathed this out on the walk back. Sitting in your own grime was never a pleasant thought. She'd also have to refresh her bandages, these ones were soaked through.

They'd parked down at one of the nearby landing pads, at the outskirts of one of the agricultural villages. Several lights were still on throughout the village and there were low undertones of music.

The landing pad had a few people on duty, manning the pads and collecting credits for the occupied space. When it came time to tally up, Loske approached the designated individual in uniform.

"What are those?" A woman with short, cropped hair asked pointedly. In typical Chandrilan fashion, everything about her was well-tailored and angular. She was referring to the Anari, of course although she didn't really seem too interested in actually knowing. The officer just knew S.S. Bruno's manifest hadn't reported any organic passengers other than the two humans, and the singular astromech which had stayed with the ship. On snooze mode. "You'll have to register that you're taking live stock from the planet."

"Where do we do that?"

As if she'd been expecting the query, she produced a datapad out to the blonde's hands. The Chandrilan gave a listless glance over the pair, a disguised shake of her head while Loske filled out the form that was ready for her while still balancing the Anari in her arms.

"Short trip." The short-haired officer observed, cocking her head slightly and keeping her eyes levelled on the lizard creatures. She hadn't much recognition of Imperator or otherwise. To her, they were just two muddy, haggard looking travellers. "Strange timing."

"Oh?" Loske prompted, making a scribble that counted as her signature after opting-in to a few check boxes.

The woman received the datapad back and spoke while she reviewed the inputs. "Yes. Most people that arrive today don't leave the same day. Today's the festival of waters." The information seemed to appease her, and she concealed the datapad once more and clasped her hands behind her back with a nod toward the platform Bruno stayed.

P Placeholder 0128

 

[Placeholder 0128]

It was only when they walked up to the landing pad upon which S.S Bruno sat that Cedric realized just how sweaty he was. His clothes were practically molded to his skin at this point. The unpleasant realization was met with a disgruntled wrinkling of his nose as he Loske had her exchange with the office.r He was keen to let her do the talking after all they'd been through today.

"Should have figured they'd have us sign. Surprised there's no fee," Cedric remarked as he glanced over her shoulder at the datapad. Chandrila truly was a lovely world.

His mind was off in the clouds for most of the exchange, though the officer's remark about a festival did draw his attention. Normally that wouldn't be his sort of thing, but the Imperium would need national holidays to tie the culture of the people together, and he could use some inspiration. Not to mention the fact that Chandrila would soon be within the Imperium's borders, and it'd certainly pay to experience their culture firsthand.

And then there was the brief mental image of Loske in a bathing suit, and his interest was piqued.

"What exactly is this Festival of Water?"

The officer grinned, "It's a festival about water."

Cedric's brow furrowed. "Well of course, but -"

The officer held up a hand to cut him off, "Joking. It's a way of giving thanks for the life our world provides. Our seas are part of the reason we're so prosperous." She clicked her tongue. "Oh, there's actually a shuttle heading to Raylan village here shortly. I'd recommend checking it out before you leave. Only comes once a year."

Cedric looked at Loske with his eyes, "What do you think?"

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Once a year?

"When in doubt, do...right?" She offered with a brief glance between the officer and Cedric. The officer just gave a shrug while Loske exchanged some credits to prolong their parking.

"The shuttle departs in an hour and a half, it'll be at bay eight." She gave a look at the pair of filthy folk, but somehow elected to hold her tongue. Her eyes did enough of the talking. With a final nod, she turned back to the offices where she was stationed to review the ebb and flow of traffic. There'd be several more incoming vessels with the festival, and with the shuttle she had much coordinating to do.

"We'll have to break the news to Frank." Loske admitted, taking the initiative to set course for the transport they were travelling in. With a touch to her wrist, the ramp to enter the vessel extended from the front of the ship - similar to a tongue rolling out of a giant mouth. The sound of her footsteps, a little heavier due to the Anari, alerted Frank to awaken from his snooze. "Fraaaank"

From the back of the hull, the astromech emerged. A red light near his giant optical triangle ignited, indicating his displeasure.

What is that. A pause, and then a more shocked What are those?

"They're Anari," Loske explained, as if that were obvious. She stooped to Frank's level and set the golden-scaled creature down. Frank rolled backward, giving himself space between himself and the baby. The creature would not have it, and immediately reared on its hind legs to stand against Frank, pressing its little paws all over the random components on Frank's body. The little nozzle at the front of his body produced a cerulean light, like a scanner, that started at the top of the Anari and rolled down to its two feet on the floor, and back up.

It's not in my records. The droid refuted.

"They must be in some records, Frankie. Search a little further - perhaps boost your signal? We've got to figure out what they eat. And you'll have to keep them warm." She shimmied her jacket from her shoulders, and set it on the floor as if it were a makeshift bed. It was enough to distract the Anari kin from Frank - maybe just because it smelled like Loske.

Why do I have to do this. There was suspicion replicated in his tone -- as best as the schematics of the droid's audio could support.

"Mmm," she was standing now, busying herself with rummaging through the random compartments within the hull. Seeking a medical pack with fresh bandages. "Cedric and I are going out."

There was that red light again on Frank's exterior.

You're leaving me again?

"Now you have company!"

No, now I have responsibility. The ship and these three....things.

She found what she was looking for, and she unzipped the bag and removed a roll of bandages while Frank rolled toward her, murmuring something inaudible to Cedric that made Loske kneel down to level with her droid companion. P Placeholder 0128 would hear something that sounded like muted negotiations between the two co-pilots before Loske stood again, after patting Frank on the head.

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Once again, Cedric was keen to let Loske take the lead in this matter. He didn't know Frank particularly well, at least not on the level that she did. Figuring he'd just cause more harm than good, Cedric contented himself with plopping down on the floor, and wrestling with the three Anari as Loske and Frank had their little talk.

He blinked up at her as she stood. The smile he offered her was tired, but warm. "They like to fight," he elbowed up to his feet, "Hope that exchange with Frank went well." He glanced around her shoulder at the droid, then fell back into place. "I haven't been to a proper festival in a few years," he glanced down at himself, then to Loske.

"I'm wondering if this is a fancy costume festival, or an everyone's on drugs kind of festival."

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Cedric was apt to leave Loske to handle Frank. He was a territorial soul, and all this Jedi business had stolen away much of their mutual perusing through the stars time. She hadn't plotted a unique navigation in some time, and he was growing irksome.

"He'll be fine, he just likes to be heard." Loske explained, liaising between the two. He'd been concerned about the need for bandages, and had given her a little tuft of bacta spray to help seal the wound. Cedric had stabilized the poison, and it was staying mute, but she'd need to see someone serious when they were back amidst the resources of the Imperium.

"Hmm," she murmured, picking at some of the mud that was caked on his arms. The mix of dirt and sweat was...pretty gross, as much as it was human. "If it's drugs, then we're probably properly dressed. If it's otherwise," her expression was faux pity. "I don't have any backup threads for..either of us. Unless you want to wear a spacewalking suit, suitable for the vacuum of space. May be a few sizes too snug."

Frank rolled back to their feet, happy to help again.

The Festival of Water is a ceremonious occasion on Chandrila. Most people are dressed at least in some sort of party attire. It's...pretty clean. What with water representing purity, sanctity and the lifeblood of the planet and all that.

There's a basin in the ship if you want to do a light rinse - otherwise the port itself has a laundromat and refreshers for all species. They don't discriminate on Chandrila.

There's light drug usage.

P Placeholder 0128

 

[Placeholder 0128]

"There are some Jedi that can use the Force to wash their cloths by controlling the elements in a microcosm. I am unfortunately not one of those Jedi," Cedric mused defeatedly. Combat plating was definitely not the right kind of an attire for a festival. He wandered off to the corner for a moment, waving away the Anari that were all rather keen on following him as he went. The process of removing his armored plates was not a long one, but the lack of weight on Cedric's torso always left him feeling exposed.


Clad only in his Jedi robes now, Cedric returned to the group. "I think if any of us would rock the spacewalking suit, I'd say it was you." He added, giving Frank a sly side look as if the droid were one of his buddies.

"Well, as long as there's a few drugs I'm sure we'll be fine," he shrugged. "I'll try the basin. Maybe we can just pick some clothes up on the way. Get into the spirit." Truthfully he just didn't want to wait at a laundromat.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

If Frank could make faces, it would have been as puzzled as Loske's was. Being the first Jedi to figure out how to do laundry-on-the-go must have been quite the anticlimatic announcement to their peers. It was indubitably practical, but..useful?

"I think this is only the second time I've seen you out of your armour." She stated. The first being on Ruusan, when they'd both been kind of drinky. Right before he'd helped her on the Weapon Ultima. It was an innocent observation in itself, but there was still something remarkable about the trust that came with it. He was always guarded.

The glance was lost on Frank, as it was on Loske.

"I'd hope so.." she contended "It was made for me." There'd only been one time S.S. Bruno had broken down out of a planet's atmosphere, and she'd had to suit up and do a repair out in the void. It had been a cringe-worthy experience. It may have been easier to accomplish if her brother hadn't been screwing up the directions from inside the safety of the ship to her out amongst the stars. Time-and-a-freaking-place.

There were a lot of little unique uses of space within the remastered aircraft. The basin itself was nestled away in the back. It's length was no more than an arm from shoulder to wrist, and the width was about a forearm. Its usefulness extended to sponges only. When Cedric didn't seem keen on venturing out to the space port again, she didn't see a point in explaining the compactness of their situation. There was enough space from the cockpit to the living area in the back to feel at least some distance. It was a far cry from the ships Cedric had named, but it served its purpose. With some interaction to the bracers on her arms, the ramp snaked back into the underbelly of the ship and the glass of the cockpit sealed for some level of privacy.

Moving once more to the back of the ship, she reached above the little metallic sink for some towels, and tossed one over her shoulder in P Placeholder 0128 's direction.

"What was the last festival you were at?" As if Cedric needed help responding to the question, she dove into an answer of her own. "My last festivus situation was..something for the Galactic Alliance - a barbeque thing above Skor II." She didn't stop talking, but there was a level of strain in her voice as she pulled her shirt over her head and started to run the tap's water. There was a certain amount in the reserve tank, so she needn't hook into the pad's resources. The first thing she dipped beneath the running water was her head - letting the water soak into her hair. She gave it a wring out, the mud eagerly coalescing in the basin and running down the drain. With an awkward reach above, she twisted it over her shoulder. Her own towel came under the tap to collect some water, and she stepped away from the sink to give Cedric space to use it, while she sat on the edge of the cot and yanked off her boots and bottoms, now only in her modest skivvies, wrapping the wet towel around herself and using it like a cover-slash-sponge at the same time while sitting. Standing, she'd surely fall over. "Or wait, I guess...your coronation counts. There was confetti and music there."

The whole sequence was remarkably unceremonious. Loske was a veteran to shared co-ed spaces. Between Rogue and Wraith squadron, she'd spent plenty of time in locker rooms with all sorts of species. Appreciation for the sentimentality of it was a little lost on her, unless she thought about it. Which she wasn't..of course.

"I guess that'd count as your last one too, then. Were there any calendar-based events on Ession?"

 

[Placeholder 0128]

The thought had never occurred to him.

As long as he'd known Loske, he'd been steeped in the war. Even if that war was a cold one right now, he was still fighting it. Unlike most Jedi Cedric preferred the protection physical armor provided him. Superhuman reflexes weren't going to defend you from an unpredictable artillery barrage. Robes weren't going to save your life if you missed a critical shot. It slowed him somewhat, but his ability to channel the Ashla into living energy negated its severity.

These were all rational reasons to wear it, but in truth it had become something of a bad habit.

"I get shot at a lot, and much of the time it's when I'm not expecting it." He gave her a light shrug. "I suppose life has taught me to be prepared." Thinking on it now, it was a bit of a strange habit. Something to be addressed later.

"An official festival? Kevryn's Day, it was a big festival celebrating the end of Sith rule over Ession during the time of the ancient empire." He cracked a half smile at the memory, "Most people cut pretty loose - It was all about gaining our freedom after all." He paused to consider. "I'll have to bring it to the Imperium, eventually."

His arms folded about his chest as he glanced about the room, making a noise of agreement when she mentioned the coronation counted as a festival. Perhaps it did in spirit, at least.

"Coronation's count I s-" He turned to look at her and found proper silence.

Relationships were odd. He'd partaken in very few of them, and the parts where clothes started to disappear had always been awkward affairs. Granted he'd always expected them to come with a bit more on the theatrical side of things.

There were several seconds before Cedric spoke. He was busy dragging his brain off the floor in hopes that it might remember how to be an adult. "Not gonna take me out to dinner first?" He asked, cracking an unsure smile as he made an attempt for nonchalance.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She was starting to appreciate the requirement of armour, now having had her stomach shredded twice.
Kevryn’s day sounded nice. Woefully not recognizable now. The Imperium did give a chance for new celebrations “Guess you’ll have to do something worth celebrating annually then.” Seven heavens knew the galaxy could use some levity.

The stop in conversation was enough to distract her from preening, and she looked up. Still wrapped in the towel and squinting at him. That bond betrayed any composure he may have been trying to exude, and she connected all the dots with a flushed expression of her own. Oh right. Royalty.

While she’d remained covered for the most part, and his back turned, there was still an amplified blend of intrigue and exposure than ever before. But the mood was...all wrong.

She scrunched her hair and chuckled when he made that dinner comment. Loske had only heard it once before, and it had been via psychometry. But the concept of dinner before anything, and then.. oof. The delivery of this was far more timely.
“No, no. I’m the whole meal.” Oh that felt as ghastly to say as it sounded out loud. She cringed. “I swear I heard that in a Coraline La’Toya holofilm. Sounded better when she said it.

Never mind, calm down — I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume most of your quarters have been pretty private to-date.” While she spoke, she made more of an effort to make sure she stayed covered and gestured for him to get started on this sink business. To give him space, she scooped up her garments and walked in the direction of the pilot seat. But not before a mischievous flare imbued her movements to stray her towel-wrapped-self all too near her companion. She lingered in front of him for a moment, looking up at him roguishly. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Lord Imperator?”

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[Placeholder 0128]

Cedric was unsure of how exactly he should approach the situation. Conflict he understood. The ways of the Jedi he understood. Interactions beyond the simple warmth of one’s company when it came to significant others? He was the definition of ignorant. Acting like an idiot was only going to sour the situation, so he chose to play along for lack of another path. “So what you’re saying is that I need to kill the Sith Emperor.” He offered in half-jest to her first comment. “Figure that would make for a decent holiday.”

He did as he was bidden, and found himself rather pleased that Frank had busied himself with some other endeavor. He didn’t need any sly comments right now. The Jedi was silent as he deftly stepped around Loske to the basin, lowering his head so that the water might run over his shaven head. When he rose again, Loske made her comment about meals, and his gut twisted partly with anxiety, excitement, and an internal cringe at the joke. It coalesced in a snickering smile. “A for effort. What’s desert then, Miss La’toya,” he offered a quiet laugh as he washed the grime from his hands.

Nothing more was said as he turned to make his way toward the pilot seat. Or that would have been the case, had Loske not interceded halfway.

Generally speaking her closeness was always something that made Cedric’s heart quicken. It was a primal thing, and something that the Jedi has gone out of his way to avoid for the vast majority of his life. Fate had other plans however, and Loske had managed to slowly chip away at the walls he’d built around himself. One remained now, and it was on the very precipice of crumbling.

His face flushed uncharacteristically as he cast his gaze down to the floor. A thought occurred to him then, as she stared up at him, her words hanging in air like a knife poised to sink into his flesh. Loske was simply too good for him: too kind, too smart, too funny, too beautiful, too perfect. She wasn’t what he deserved.

“If I say yes, do I get a prize?” He finally asked, the warmth he exuded in his small smile infusing itself into his words. Rather than wait for her to respond, Cedric drew closer, his arms lacing around her thin waist as he leaned in to press his lips to hers.

He very well might not have deserved her, but his had been a life of service. He could afford a bit of selfishness just this once.

Loske Treicolt

 

[Loske Treicolt]

The unsaid response was a resounding yes.

Even when Cedric made an effort to evade eye contact, she remained fixated. It felt like she bore an intensity his way, challenging expectantly. The translation however, was exuding confidence - feeling in control of the situation. Glacier gaze took in the pictorial of his handsome composition, only partially corrupted with abstract rises, ridges and twists that had been gnarled by conflict. A life lived for others - vanity the first sacrifice for alternative goals. The marring was impressive, and elicited all the more awe from the youth. He’d been fighting for more years than she’d been “alive” - and he was still a glutton for more. That counted for more than something in her books.

As for his response, she wasn't sure what she'd expected. In that brief moment of him eluding her gaze, she was filled with a temporary self doubt of her all-too-confrontational nature. A trait that both her donors had injected in her psyche. Was her comment putting too much pressure on a thread about to break? Her blasé approach to a sensitive atmosphere could have come across as deft and unappreciated. As many half-dressed folks as she'd been around in her lifetime, the locker room was not an emotional area. It was a highly utilitarian experience. There was no desire to linger in a single interaction -- which was entirely unlike this moment.

His words brought about a wave of relief, although her composition never faltered (a tribute to her mother being a cinematic eccedentesiast). Before she could correct his interpretation of the challenge, he was on the move. His strength was used to compassionately manipulate her person, rather than the typical damage he could render. It was a marvellous juxtaposition, of which she was the sole benefactor: A crusader with the purpose to champion his people by his mettle in battle, evidenced through strength, being able to modify and interact with a softness as captured within the hull of the remodelled spacecraft. Those same arms that delivered concussive blow after blow were able to render her into a melting shell, without lifting a weapon. The realization of this brought a smile to her lips, which Cedric captured with his kiss. With that entrapment, she didn’t want him to let go. This will evidenced with her tightening the space between them; so close that light daren’t pass through. For the first time in their newfound interactions, she wasn’t contending with the harsh barrier of armour. There was only the human composition one could expect. That delightful realization, compounded with the exhilaration of being wrapped in his arms, elevated her appreciative aggression in reciprocating the romantic gesture. She sacrificed her grip on the clothes she’d been holding to loop over his shoulders, and eventually snaking around his neck.

Moments melted into minutes, and after a handful of whichever metric, she found herself in the woeful position of having to draw back for air. She kept her nose pressed close to his while a knavish curl etched on her tingling lips. The breaths she drew were shared, given their proximity, and for a few blissful seconds found herself at a loss of words while letting her consciousness come back to reality. She felt drugged. Faded.

Through the passionate exchange, there were some adjustments from the original location. For instance, Cedric would find himself pressed more against the random collection of levers, wires and panels that composed the inside of S.S.Bruno. She’d somehow had to force his back to that, as if attempting to conceal their interactions in the wall-less vessel. Loske came realize her fingertips were teasing at the threads he wore, giving pause at the waistband before she drew them back to just resting on his stomach sheepishly. There was an all too real acknowledgement that as their relationship progressed, so did the mutual rhythm. The first time they’d expressed themselves like this, on Coruscant, it had been giddy and exciting— but awkward and unpracticed. This time, she had more of an appetite to continue and probably wouldn’t have taken this pause if her lungs didn’t demand immediate action.

Her pulse was racing. He could probably hear her heart thumping in her chest— a noise that was interrupted by a robotic ahem.

At first, she didn’t turn around. She was too engrossed with all that was Cedric. It wasn’t until Frank have a second, doubly unimpressed A-hEm, that she adjusted in the hold to face her droid. The little Anari were mewling and stomping all around him, like some sort of ceremony.

The shuttle. You only have thirty minutes to get to bay eight.

It was worth wondering if Frank’s AI was advanced enough to read a room. Which would lead one to with the possibilities of him realizing he was ruining a moment, or if it was merely the ignorant want to help. One could also note that a little bit of steam was starting to gather at the edges of the viewshield.

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Passion was a foreign thing to the Jedi Master. He had a modicum if it for the Ashla and his people, but that was more of a detached, balanced

Thing. This was a wholly different beast. Composure was far from the forefront of Cedric’s mind: indeed the majority of his thoughts had melted into a formless slush. It was akin to the exhilaration he’d felt at the conclusion of Ession’s greatest victories - a sweeping thing that burned away the burdens that always weighed in his mind, at least for the moment.



The Essonian didn’t resist Loske’s direction. The walls were just as fit a place as anywhere else. He was more than content to allow himself to be enraptured in the moment, and found himself yearning to continue as Loske pulled back for a a breath. He was happy for the closeness; the intensity of the moment had given him a bit of a craving for it. There were fragments of words forming in the corners of his mind, but he wasn’t sure how to formulate them into an honest sentence. He knew they were important, felt it as strongly as his feelings were for her, but the moment took far too much precedence.



A threshold was nearly crossed. Cedric took note of her attempts to draw at the robes with nothing more than a loopy smile. He’d already decided on her, there was no mistake here. His hands fell to her own in encouragement, and...



Cedric blinked several times as Frank’s voice droned through the room. He felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins freeze instantly, and the very strong desire to launch Frank across the ship was of great consideration. Lack of tact or simple total lack of understanding, Cedric didn’t particularly care.



“Thanks Frank,” he audibly groaned, his head tilting forward to press against Loske’s as he spoke, his voice lowered. “Did you still want to go to that?”





Loske Treicolt