Private Archive Blues

[Jem Fossk]

Saan'an's master was a lot more interested in eating up his time than hers was.

Maybe Dagon had meant that 'mentor' term to be taken a little more literally ...Maybe she didn't ... actually... have a master. Maybe she was back to square one...

Maybe if she tossed this ball up high enough she could break that light.

Jem laid haphazardly across an archive bench, her long limbs and training gear scattered and slick with drying sweat. Her brother was suppose to meet her here at the end of his lesson. She guessed it went over again. A spark of frustration ate through her gut. She knew he wouldn't tell his master he needed to go. Saan'an would just sit there, silent, leaving her hanging as he got the chance of a life time and she got diddly squat.

Guilt edged through her. It wasn't fair to begrudge him that.


She chucked her holoball. It whizzed up, the force accidentally channeling through her fingers and giving it wings. It collided into the light high above, its blue glow surging out as the shattered light let out sparks. Her eyes widened. She curled into a ball, shielding her face as the particles came raining down. She winced at the stinging bites that licked over her forearms and shins. The tinkling chaos quieted.

She gingerly uncurled to find her aisle cast in dim darkness. She could feel the distant alarm of others in the air.

"...Chit."

She scrambled up for her things.

Damsy Callat

 

[Damsy Callat]

Damsy was studying something kosher this time.

Not the Sith Masters of old. The mob bosses of now. Or, at least the known ones of the Coruscanti underworld. What she read wasn't exactly a Jedi tome though. Rather, it was a CDF file downloaded onto her personal datapad. The Archives were just quiet, unlike the station's bullpen or Aslha forbid common room.

Huh? Which one?

Any of them. All of them.

Suddenly, the peace she had seeking quite literally shattered. At first, she wasn't particularly bothered—the crash was quick to fade away—but when she caught the Jedi all around her all but staring. It took her a moment to realize they were padawans like her but, unlike her, various ages younger. Her face and name was known well enough through the Temple now, as well as was her seniority. She sighed, powering off her pad before scooting out her chair and standing. Part of her really wanted to tell her onlookers to grow a spine. No very Jedi-like. What was was to go investigate for those too startled to. So, somewhat begrudgingly, that's what she did.

It didn't take long to identify the problem aisle and come upon it: it was the one not emitting light out into the main walkway. "Hi there?" called Damsy before slowly peeking around the edge of a bookcase.



**
Jem Fossk

 

[Jem Fossk]

Jem froze, the girl dripping with blood and tangled training robes she had been trying to pack up. "Uh..."

Well this didn't look good.

"It just fell on me." It wasn't a lie if it was true. The light fixture laid shattered all around them, the ball that had knocked it down no where to be seen. Dammit.

She slowly lowered her bags back onto the bench and resumed her careless packing. A close look at the little cuts around across her legs and forearms would reveal a confusing mass of day old scabs. Jem's expression had fallen back into a serious scowl as she stuffed it all in.

"Anyone coming?" She uttered conspiratorially.

 

[Damsy Callat]

"It just fell on me."

Damsy knew the trick of technicality well.

But she was normally the one relying upon it. So this was what it was like to be around her when she was in one of her obnoxious moods? Lovely.

She sighed, leaning away to glancing in both directions. "No, no one," she replied in a tone hushed to match the girl's. "But soon. Imma haveta call maintenance." As Damsy began to step towards the sea of glass shards, they skittered across the floor again, this time into a neat pile hidden underneath the bench's shadow. She slid the oversized scarf hanging around her neck up over the head and handed it out to the battered girl. "Make scarce to medbay, a'ight? I'll cover for you, but only if ya do that. And apply pressure 'till ya get there."



**
Jem Fossk

 

[Jem Fossk]

One didn't have to be told twice.

Jem snatched up the scarf and scattered, scarcely nodding a thanks to the girl as she bolted out. Wouldn't want to get caught but the shriveled, mean archivist Aeris Lashiec .

Two days later.

Same spot, same lackadaisical position splayed across the bench, Jem was a creature of habit and Saan'an was late. As per usual. All signs of the incident had been healed from her golden skin, but it did not stop Jem from sitting there with that same bored expression.... now with out a ball...

Practicing her telekinesis by shuffling books in the shelves overhead.