AT THE BAR
JEDI TEMPLE ☛ DANTOOINE
It made hardly any sense to Oriadne to be all the way out here. Cavorting and socialising had little place in her life amongst the sands, where she'd only been an adjunct at first, but in the wake of the purported passing of Romi Jade, and with her designated (and young!) inheritors of the Enclave drifting off along other life paths, she had nearly become part of the furniture. She hardly ever left, save for going into town for needs, as
someone had to keep the other inhabitants in line... but she'd let herself get talked into this. She'd let the increasing silence of the subterranean enclave get to her.
Or maybe she'd stayed put for too long and that made her weak to the idea of doing something that was
supposed to be enjoyable... but what hairbrained thought had lured her
here, of all places? She had never been all that close to most other Jedi, even in
her time; her calling had made traversing other paths the default, and spending overly much time in an actual
temple just about made her itch in a way that made remaining still an absurd proposition. That was why she had ended up operating out of the Jakku Enclave, rather than any of the Order's more populous locations.
But most importantly, Jakku didn't remind her of anything, except for what climates like that did to her
hair.
Hair of a vibrant rouge which was clean and simply done tonight, cascading down her back and over her shoulders, standing out against the high-necked and long, lacy white blouse she wore, and accented with green jewelled earrings that were a lighter shade than the uncommonly dark jade of her eyes. With this she had worn dark slacks and a modest heel; her style, whether in Jedi robes or not, had never been flashy. Whether that was because her hair stood out enough, or because of ingrained teachings... well, it didn't matter when you looked a touch too mature for all the young people, or classy enough and/or pretty enough to come across as unapproachable, if not intimidating for nearly
everyone else.
Oriadne returned to the bar counter after a short reprieve to the restroom, having decided on her way back that the only interesting thing to do here was to have another drink. Indicating that she'd just take the remainder of the bottle of sake that she'd already been served from - with nothing short of a perplexed look from the 'tender who was well used to serving Jedi that might as well have been teetotallers in comparison - she retrieved the bottle and the clean glass provided with it, and went to return to the same seat as before, only to find it
occupied.
And finding herself more surprised than irritated. Ori slipped a glance out at the crowd of people, then back to the greying man in her... no, what
used to be her seat, a man that looked as out-of-place as she
felt, and as undeniably Corellian as she'd ever seen. That out-of-place-ness just about qualified him as a kindred spirit, in some outlandish way, and with corner of her mouth curling in just a little bit of amusement, she instead slipped onto the stool next to him.
"
They're all so young," she spoke, while setting the bottle and the glass on the counter, "
aren't they?"
