Private Tour Guide or Babysitter?

[Eshan Vharros]

Courscant Jedi Temple
Helen Lupercal​

"Yes, sir... I will go meet her at once."

Eshan turned sharply, his tail flicking in irritation, the motion as instinctive as breathing. He doubted the Jedi even noticed—it wasn't as if the Masters ever took the time to understand his mannerisms. They were far more interested in testing him, poking at his patience, trying to decide whether he was finally fit to have a master again. And now? Now, they had tasked him with playing tour guide for some new recruit. He doubted this was anything more than another lesson in restraint, yet another way to keep him occupied while they continued to stall his training. His ears twitched, but he said nothing as he moved through the vast halls of the Jedi Temple.

The recruit, Helen Lupercal, was arriving at a private docking bay—an odd choice. Even for Coruscant, where surveillance choked the air, this felt different. Were the Jedi hiding something? His instincts whispered caution, but he pushed the thought away with a sharp exhale. "Helen Lupercal, Helen Lupercal, Helen Lupercal." Repeating the name under his breath, he rolled it around his tongue, forcing it into memory. Names were a struggle at times, too many voices, too many faces—but at least she wasn't a Hutt. Huttese names were a nightmare to remember.

Navigating the Temple's grand corridors, he felt the usual sense of confinement creep up on him. The structure was massive, yet somehow suffocating, a durasteel cage lined with Jedi wisdom. He had lived within these walls for years, and yet they never truly felt like home. His claws flexed briefly at the thought, pressing lightly against his palms before he forced himself to relax.

Finally, he arrived.

The docking bay loomed ahead, the polished floors reflecting the muted glow of overhead lights. The drop-off ship sat behind her, its hull gleaming with the marks of long travel. It was a Jedi craft, but not one typically used for new arrivals. His fur bristled faintly, a ripple along his spine. Something about this felt... off. Still, he approached with measured confidence, dipping into a respectful bow, though his golden eyes never fully left her. He took in everything at once—her build, her stance, the way she carried herself. Not just a recruit, no. A warrior in her own right.

"Helen Luperrrcal?" His voice carried the familiar rolling r's, a deep, steady purr layered beneath his words.

Up close, his nose flared slightly, catching the subtle traces of starship fuel, sterilized metal, and the faint, unfamiliar scent of wherever she had come from. Eshan made note of it, storing it away as instinct dictated.

"My name is Eshan. I am herrre to be your guide." His tail flicked once, slow and deliberate—not irritated, just aware. Whatever frustration he had with the Masters wasn't Helen's fault, and he wasn't about to let it spill over onto her.

His ears tilted forward, his voice steady but genuine. "Have you been to Corrruscant before?" He didn't just ask—he watched, reading the smallest details in her response, the way she moved, the way she reacted. He had learned long ago that words often meant little—but the body? The body never lied.

 

[Helen Lupercal]

Helen was unique among many others within the order. Not by the fact that she was already an adult, though many young children were still brought into the order, sometimes as early as late infancy, the order no longer required their initiates to be below a certain age. She was not unique that she was an adult as she joined the order. No her uniqueness came from her shady background. Darksiders and Sith had seen the light and defected to the Jedi to be sure, but she wasn’t sure how many Jedi there had been with her particular backstory.

This uniqueness also made her situation uniquely delicate, and so instead of being brought to the Temple through public transportation and eventually a waiting Jedi Master, she had been shuttled directly to the temple largely in secret. To avoid any uncomfortable situations while the Order got everything else taken care of.

So Helen sat quietly in the Shuttle, practicing the basic teachings she’d been given by the Grandmaster, Valery Noble , who had recruited her. Using the liner crystal and her lightsaber parts she used the force to move them around the air in various patterns. The Grandmaster had told her that it helped hone one’s focus, though Helen still struggled with it, finding it tedious and boring more than anything. Even the indigo blue crystal that was the keystone of the whole thing, literally, seemed to chafe at inaction. She desperately wanted to do something, and her weapon seemed to agree with her.

Finally the ship came in to land, and Helen breathed a sigh of relief as they began to enter the atmosphere. She reassembled her weapon, and after briefly igniting it to make sure it worked right, it did, she clipped it to her belt just in front of her holstered blaster.

“Alright. Time to see what miss Valery got me into.” She mused as she made for the gangway to exit the ship.

She would step off to immediately meet a waiting Jedi, who offered her a greeting and a bow. She smiled in return, an expression that looked both friendly and cocky at once, and returned the bow with perhaps a tad more flare than strictly necessary, sticking her left leg behind her and holding her hands palm-up out and away from her body. Her mannerisms indicating that she was trying to restrain herself, though it was plain to see that she was accustomed to carrying herself with a sauntering swagger. She had a confidence in her stance that bordered on arrogance, and a grin to match.

“Greetings my good sir.” She said to him as she stood up straight, her hands falling to her hips. “Yes, I am she. And to whom might I be speaking?”

Helen had to look up at him, which she wasn’t used to doing. Standing at around six and a quarter feet, she was around half a foot shorter than him. With toned muscles and accentuated curves to compliment her height. And a set of clothes to take full advantage of it.

She met his gaze evenly whenever he met hers. Not particularly intimidated by his size or stature, though certainly learning. Like she was sizing him up, estimating her chances of bringing him down. They were unfavorable, but she didn’t seem worried either. The poorly veiled arrogance in her stance never leaving.

“I haven’t, no.” She answered, “I know very little about the planet. And I’m eager to learn more.”

---

Eshan Vharros

 

[Eshan Vharros]

Helen Lupercal​

Eshan's amber eyes flicked across her form again, studying details with a mixture of curiosity and restraint. He was only eighteen, and for most of his life, he had been trapped within the walls of the Jedi Temple. He had seen plenty of women, but the flowing, modest robes of the Order weren't exactly titillating—and while Jedi training had drilled self-discipline into him, it hadn't quite prepared him for situations like this.

If Trianii could blush, he would have.

Instead, his ears instinctively flattened, and his whiskers twitched slightly, a reflexive betrayal of his momentary lapse in composure. His tail gave a flick, his body adjusting, resetting itself as he forced his emotions back into place. A Jedi was meant to be collected, focused, mastering the art of restraint—but some instincts were harder to bury than others. He could feel the warmth beneath his fur, an internal irritation at himself for even reacting at all.

With a smooth, practiced breath, he pulled himself back under control.

"I apologize, my lady. My name is Eshan." The padawan straightened his posture with purpose, squaring his shoulders just enough to reinforce his presence. His tail flicked once behind him, betraying a lingering awkwardness he refused to acknowledge. "I am a Jedi Padawan."

This time, when the warrior bowed, he mirrored a bit of her flair, unwilling to be outdone in presentation. His movements were controlled yet fluid, a predator's grace hidden beneath a Jedi's restraint. One of his broad, clawed paws pressed against his chest, muscles tensing just enough to be visible beneath the thick folds of his robe. A subtle display, but deliberate. Strength was not something Eshan needed to boast about—it was simply a part of him.

He knew the Council was testing him, waiting to see if he would falter, if he would reveal some vulnerability they could dissect later.

Not today. No resentment. No frustration. Just composure.

Then again… they wouldn't notice if he took a short detour.

A low, unmistakable rumble echoed in his chest, barely muffled by the fabric of his robe. His stomach groaned audibly, loud enough that Helen might have heard it. His ears twitched, and he exhaled sharply through his nose, masking the momentary flicker of sheepishness behind a neutral expression. There was no rule against eating.

And the Council wouldn't notice how long they were gone—not unless they went too far. Besides, there was a small deli about fifteen minutes from the Temple, and right now, it was calling his name.

His nose flared slightly, picking up subtle traces of her scent—foreign, new, but not entirely unfamiliar. A traveler's scent. Someone who had been to many places, carried many experiences with her. "New to the planet?" His tone was smooth, effortless, yet his gaze remained sharp, watching for small tells in her expression, the way she reacted to the question. Not many people hadn't been to Coruscant. Or maybe that was just his narrow, Jedi-shaped perspective talking.

He considered his next words for half a second, then discarded formality in favor of practicality. "Are you hungry?" His whiskers twitched, and his tail flicked once, decisive and final. "I need to eat. Follow me."

Eshan turned on his heel with fluid precision, his robe fluttering behind him in a controlled sweep. His movements were smooth, purposeful—feline.

They wouldn't go far. And they would eat quickly.

 

[Helen Lupercal]

Helen did in fact hear the growling of his stomach, and felt her own stomach quietly rumble in turn. She hadn’t eaten for a while, and she could stand to have some sustenance.

His attempt to match her showy mannerisms nearly earned a giggle from the woman, who was reminded that this was not the setting she was accustomed to. She made a mental note that she’d need to try to reel herself in just a little bit more.

“I could certainly get something to eat.” She said with a smile. “I hope you have something good in mind. I’d be curious to learn what Coruscant Cuisine is like. And yes I am. The galaxy is a big place, and I’ve never been to the core worlds before, let alone the capital planet. So I must admit to being utterly ignorant about the goings on and societal norms of this place. I do hope my barbarism doesn’t embarrass you good sir.”

Her tone carried a hint of teasing to it, as if she were trying to gauge his response to jokes. If he would take them and laugh or if he was a little more uptight. She hoped it would be the former, after Valery the next and last Jedi she had met had been so stiff that it bordered on monotony. Far too serious for her tastes.

---

Eshan Vharros

 

[Eshan Vharros]

Helen Lupercal​

"Hmm." Eshan mused to himself as Helen explained, his ears angling slightly forward in thought. It was always strange to be reminded that not everyone in the galaxy shared the same experiences he did. Coruscant had been his entire world for as long as he could remember—the endless spires of metal and duracrete, the tangled skylanes crisscrossing overhead, the neon glow of signs in a hundred different languages. It was loud, busy, alive.

To him, it was normal. To her? It was something new, something to take in. The Trianii slowed his usual pace, his long, natural strides shortened so that Helen could absorb the towering structures and neon haze surrounding them. It was a subtle gesture, but one his instincts told him was important.

His tail swayed lazily as he gestured toward a few rooms they passed. "Training rooms," the padawan said simply, before flicking his tail toward another corridor. "Bathrooms." Eshan didn't go into detail. She likely wouldn't remember where they were, and he assumed most bathrooms functioned the same way across the galaxy—at least, he hoped they did.

Helen's mention of Coruscant cuisine pulled a low chuckle from the Trianii, a sound deep in his chest, rich and velvety. "Corrruscant cuisine?" His whiskers twitched in amusement, ears flicking back slightly. The Jedi laughed, imagining a dish somehow infused with the essence of starship exhaust and drunk aliens. "Something like that." His voice carried a purring undertone, playful yet dry, matched by the flick of his tail as they walked.

They continued on for a few more minutes, the halls of the Temple quiet and familiar—until they reached its outer edge. The young Trianii's pace didn't falter, but as he turned his large head slightly toward Helen, a smirk ghosted across his face. "Don't tell Masterrr Noble we're leaving the Temple." His tail curled at the tip, flicking once as punctuation, his best attempt at a Trianii-style wink.

Then, with one last step, they crossed the threshold.

Coruscant Hits Like a Wave

"Welcome to the real Corrruscant." The moment they stepped outside, the noise swallowed them whole. Speeders raced through the skylanes above, their repulsors humming in layered waves, the air thick with the scent of coolant, fuel, and duracrete warmed by artificial sunlight. Neon signs flashed in a hundred languages, bright holo-ads projected into the air, selling everything from off-world delicacies to questionable cybernetic enhancements. The streets were alive with movement—beings of all species and backgrounds weaving between one another, their conversations melding into a wall of sound that never quite ended.

Coruscant was a planet of rhythm, of constant movement and chaos.

To Helen, if she had never been in a place like this, it would likely be overwhelming through the Force—so many emotions, so much life, all compressed into layered stacks of durasteel and transparisteel. To the Trianii padawan, it was white noise. The backdrop of his existence, as constant and unremarkable as the hum of a lightsaber during sparring practice.

His ears flicked toward Helen, listening—not just to her words, but to her breath, her footsteps, the way she carried herself in this new environment. Was she wary? Intrigued? Annoyed?

"Just keep close to me," the Jedi said, voice smooth, measured. Not a warning. Just a fact. "We're close enough to the Temple that no one will try to harrrm us."

Eshan knew she could handle herself—that much was obvious. But Jedi or not, he had been raised to believe you never put a woman's life in danger. His golden gaze flicked over the crowd, reading the familiar ebb and flow of city life, his senses always processing movement, sound, scent.

His tail flicked once. "Also, don't believe anyone who says they need fare to get on a transport." His whiskers twitched. "They're just trying to get crrredits out of you." The Trianii let out a low sigh, his ears twitching in memory. "Trrrust me." He had learned that lesson the hard way, scammed more times than he cared to admit before someone finally clued him in.

His tail flicked again as he adjusted his stride, matching the natural rhythm of the crowd.

"The dinerrr is just around this cornerrr."

 

[Helen Lupercal]

Helen kept pace with the furry alien with ease, her own strides long and fast as she kept up with the man. She had a hard time believing he was a fellow padawan given how large he was. She had the excuse of being brand new to the order. He was... well she didn't know. And she figured it would be rude to ask. So she kept her mouth shut and just walked with him, taking in every hallway and room. She'd had experience, lots of experience, navigating unfamiliar space stations and ships, which could be unbelievably labyrinthine, so he would likely be surprised to learn that she had effectively memorized everything he was showing her, and could now find her way back the way they came with relative ease.

"You mean Valery?" She asked curiously, "She and I already got acquainted. I'm not sure she'd be too upset about us leaving. But if you say we should keep quiet, I won't tell."

She followed him with the same saunter that she'd exited the ship with, a smug grin on her face and looking like a predator searching for its prey. Until finally they left the temple for the open air of Coruscant.

"Oh my..." She mused, looking around at the busy city. "I've seen busy urban areas before... but this takes the cake. Impressive!"

She was intrigued, curious to see more. This was an adventure to be sure, seeing things she'd never seen before. She knew all about cities, but none ever seemed to get this big. It was a wonder to behold.

Helen debated whether she should reassure him that she could handle herself or tease him about being a "white knight". The thought of giving him a hard time made her smile evilly, but she decided against it. "I'm not worried. We're both big, you're a Jedi and I'm a crack shot with this blaster of mine. Any ugly rapscallion to show their face to us won't be showing it for long."

She said this mostly in jest, but there was a hint of assured confidence in her tone. She had been some dangerous, unsavory places before. She could handle herself in an urban alleyway.

"I'll be sure to remember that. Save me a lot of credits that will." She told him with a grateful expression. "Lead the way and I will follow."

---

Eshan Vharros

 

[Eshan Vharros]

Helen Lupercal​

The streets of Coruscant were a never-ending rush of movement, a planet that never truly slept. Eshan moved through the crowd with effortless ease, his gait fluid but deliberate, every step tuned to the shifting energy of those around him. His ears twitched at the layered murmur of conversation, the rhythmic hum of passing speeders above. This was the heartbeat of the city—a pulse of life that never quieted. His golden eyes flicked toward Helen, watching as she navigated the streets beside him. She kept up, not lagging, not overwhelmed.

Good.

"The Temple doesn't feed you enough," the Trianii rumbled, his tail curling with mild amusement. His voice carried the faintest purring undertone, rolling easily between syllables. "At least, not nearrrly enough forrr someone like me." His whiskers twitched as he grinned.

They arrived at their destination in just a few more strides. The diner was small, tucked between two towering structures, its neon sign buzzing faintly against the cold durasteel backdrop.

Starhopper's Grill.

A familiar place. The kind of spot where the scent of freshly grilled nerf, roasted spices, and baking bread spilled into the streets. Warm, inviting—a sharp contrast to the sterile corridors of the Jedi Temple. The Trianii pushed the door open smoothly, his clawed fingers tapping briefly against the frame before gesturing for Helen to enter.

The inside was just as he remembered—worn but comfortable, the kind of place where servers knew their regulars, and the holo-jukebox in the corner never quite worked right. Muted golden light bathed the tables, giving the whole place a cozy, lived-in feel. It wasn't uncommon to see Jedi this close to the Temple, but a near-seven-foot Trianii Padawan? That was something people noticed. Eshan ignored the curious glances, his tail flicking lazily as he slid into a corner booth.

The fabric of his robe shifted as he stretched slightly, rolling his broad shoulders with a slow, measured ease. His ears flicked once, twice, casually noting the movement in the space around them.

Then his gaze returned to Helen.

"So."

A pause. His head tilted slightly, golden eyes narrowing—not in suspicion, but in thoughtful curiosity. "You'rrre not some strict Jedi trrraditionalist, arrre you?" The words rolled smoothly, light in tone but carrying an undercurrent of interest. The way she held herself, the way she spoke, the way she reacted—these were all pieces to a puzzle the Trianii had yet to complete. It wasn't uncommon to see an adult or a teenager join the Temple, but this interaction felt... different.

And Eshan wanted to know why.

His sharp teeth flashed slightly in a smirk, his tail flicking once over the edge of the booth. "I can tell because you didn't tense up when I mentioned Grandmasterrr Noble." Another pause. The Trianii's grin widened just a fraction, ears angling forward slightly. "You also called herrr by herrr first name."

Eshan let the words settle between them, watching her reaction—not just her expression, but the small subconscious tells. Did she brace? Shrug it off? Meet his gaze without hesitation? The Padawan had met many Jedi, and most were the type to speak about their Masters with unwavering reverence, as if even thinking of their names without a title would somehow summon their disapproval through the Force itself. But Helen? She was different. And different was interesting.

His tail flicked once more as he leaned back slightly, stretching an arm along the booth's backrest, still watching her with quiet interest.

He could see the pieces forming, but he wasn't quite sure what the final picture would be yet.

"Tell me," the Trianii purred, his voice smooth, inviting—but not entirely casual. "What made you come to the Temple? And be honest—don't just tell me the 'rrright' answerrr." There was a gleam in his golden eyes now, an unmistakable challenge buried beneath the words.

The Trianii wasn't just asking a question. He was waiting to see if she was willing to actually answer it.