On the Force

[4ND-R0]

Theed. The gleaming city was the political capital of the planet of Naboo. In additions to its status for being focal point of politics, the people of Naboo also seemed to have focused it as it epicenter of art and creativity. In the rotunda that served as the Parnelli Museum of Art, a seemingly ordinary man was among the viewers. He appeared rather elderly, pushing into his early eighties if he were pure human. His pointed ears betrayed him, however, showing his Sephi ancestry. He was Serek Vha, Gray Jedi Master. While he tried to keep fame beneath him, he was still known in some circles as a teacher and mentor those wished to learn or even seek wisdom.

His simple, gray robes furled as he shuffled from artwork to artwork. While he was a man who valued logic to govern action, he was not without emotion. He enjoyed the arts, feeling that it was something intrinsic to a sapient being. To express their emotions through creative means, simple put, is what separated the sapient from the animals. He came to a particular piece, commemorating the events of centuries ago, of the Clone Wars that once raged in the galaxy. He closed his eyes, recalling his own experiences of strife and war across nearly three centuries of existence. What folly it was to see the same mistakes repeated among the present generation.

To anyone who knew how to seek him out, they would know that he would be docked in Theed for a few days while he enjoyed the fresh air, and his droids restocked on vital supplies for interstellar travel.

[member="Baros Sal-Soren"]

 

[Baros Sal-Soren]

"Give me a moment would you," said Baros to Talecs Mar, who bowed politely but seemed frustrated that he could no longer dominate the conversation with Baros any more. Moving at a speed half a step faster than his normal pace, Baros pushed the door open and walked on to the catwalk above the public gallery. He has used the excuse of wanting to view the art in order to get out of a rather in depth and tiresome conversation around the mating habits of Resparian silk worms. Before the Corellian knew it he was already down the stairs and wandering around the collection. Private functions, like he had just escaped from, were still necessary to maintain Glitterstim's image and popularity, but they were no longer his passion. His greatest interest now lay elsewhere.

Rounding a corner, Baros saw a large mural depicting the events of centuries earlier - the famed 'Clone Wars'. Coming to a stop a meter or so to the left of an elderly man, Baros looked up over the looming work of art. He smiled briefly knowing that the artist had had to 'joy' of rendering the same face over and over again as they created different angles of the dead or dying clones whose helmets had been displaced. The smile dimmed almost as quickly as it arose. These were still living, thinking, breathing beings. Given life by the need to war. Given life so that they could die in place of the greedy, the power hungry and the idealogues.

"Have you ever seem something as beautiful as it is grotesque?" He said with a tilt of his head towards his fellow patron standing to his side, "all because one super-man wanted to control all the non-super-people."

[member="Serek Vha"]

 

[4ND-R0]

Serek thought a moment before answer his fellow patron. "Of the many words in the many languages I'm privy to, the word 'beautiful' is not something I would ascribe to war." He said rather bluntly, "I would feel that this would serve as a reminder of what came before to you younglings. Especially when the despot that followed was himself, one of the Naboo." He fully turned to face the other man, looking him over with stern eyes. He had recognized this man's face from something. When it clicked, his furled upward with some semblance of fascination.

"Curious. A well known fashion mogul in these parts, who supposed to be a gala at some sort. Yet here you are." He stated, a hint of humor behind his otherwise stoic face,"In a museum with a dull old man."

He began walking to the next part of the exhibit, robes giving him a slightly phantasmic gait. He had heard of this Glitterstim before, seen bis face on the HoloNet once or twice. Yet another part of him wondered why someone of sich fame found himself here of all place. Force knows? In his old age, he was certain of one thing: humans, above all other species, were highly illogical.

[member="Baros Sal-Soren"]

 

[Baros Sal-Soren]

The tone of the man's voice was as an aged, time weeried teacher with little patience for a class of toddlers. Baros thought it best to take the reprimand in step and simply bowed his head respectfully. "Evil grows in the shadow cast by grace," he said, quoting someone far smarter than himself, "Naboo is easily one of the most graceful places that I have ever seen."

Curiousity entirely piqued, Baros followed his elder on to the next work of art, but he was far more interested in the man before him than the rendering of an Old Republic space battle, something about a Star Forge. "You know who I am?" He said with a grin forming. Not that the older man wasn't dressed well enough, he was simply outside of Glitterstim's normal clientele by at least...50 years?

He barely held back an uncharacteristic burst of honest laughter. "Crochety. Cantankerous. Grumpy. Knowledgeable. Gentle. Wise. These are words I might associate with those in later years of life...but never dull. What brings you here, Mr....?"

[member="Serek Vha"]

 

[4ND-R0]

"Vha. Serek Vha." came the old man's reply. He moved to address the fashion mogul once more. "If you mean this museum, I consider myself a conssieur of art. I believe the act of creating and making things is what seperates higher thinking species from the beasts." He took a few moments to look over the artwork of the ancient Old Republic, looking rather pensive before returning to his newfound conversation partner. "If you refer to Theed itself, I am here a few days to restock on supplies before I leave to the stars once more. Such is the life of a nomad."

He paused a moment, adjusting his robes. If the young man was astute enough, he would have caught a glimpse of the lightsaber hilt on Serek's belt. The half-Sephi then looked the man over, eyes seeming to peer into his very being.

"The better question is why are you here, Mr. 'Glitterstim'? Surely one with your reputation would be enjoying the festivities I hear are in your honor?" He questioned, eyes stll focused Baros. "Or perhaps it is fate tht you are here, and you are simply unaware of it yet." The last line seemed rather cryptic. The old man almost cracked a knowing smile. The Force had its ways, after all.

[member="Baros Sal-Soren"]

 

[Baros Sal-Soren]

"What level of creativity is enough for you to grant a species the moniker of sentient?" Baros said. His view on sentience and interspecial relationships was something left undeclared in this instance. "Surely a primate in some jungle cave smearing something colourful over a cave wall has not yet achieved the level needed to become sentient?"

It was at that moment that Baros caught sight of the cylindrical item swinging from Vha's belt. His posture noticeably stiffened. There did not seem to be any fear, but maybe a little more reserved.

"It is my label that is honoured, [member="Atara Themis"] does most of the work surrounding that nowadays. I am more the figurehead," he said in almost a mutter as he found himself lost in thought. He glanced back up at the art before them. Ships flying around a large viewport, and a female sitting cross-legged in the midst of the command deck looking out over the fray before her. A Jedi, he presumed. He glanced quickly at the plaque to the side. Bastila Shan.

"I become even more curious when a Force User starts talking about me and destiny in the same sentence. How can the Force have any say over my actions? I am no Jedi or Sith..."

[member="Serek Vha"]

 

[4ND-R0]

The old man's face became very serious at the mention the Force. Such was an area of expertise for Serek. He had devoted a majority of his life to the meditation and knowledge of the Force. He turned to the younger man again, with the look of a wizened teacher in his eyes. "How people so easily forget. The Force is not merely the thought of the Jedi or Sith." He looked rather tall now, his body adjusting its posture to look more authoritative. "The Force is the energy of life. All life is a creation of the Force at some point, even those who are severed from it or not in tune with it."

He came rather close to the fashion mogul, standing only a few feet before him. "The Force is the cycle of life. All things come forth from it, and all things will return to it." He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "Destiny, on the other hand, is more difficult. The Force brought each of us into existence for a reason. We are meant to influence the lives of those around us. For the greater benefit, or the greater malevolence."

He became quiet once more. His mind was pensive, thinking on the past. He recalled many of the lives that had crossed his path in all of his years. "Young man, how old do you believe me to be? I will not be offended." There was motivation behind the question, but he would only reveal his intention when it was answered.

[member="Baros Sal-Soren"]