Act I, Scene I, Attn: Lysander

[Tarissa Rysand]

To say Tarissa was a bit nervous would be putting it lightly.

It was a few months after Master Drennan's body had come back lifeless. She still wasn't confident that she had recovered from that mental blow, but she didn't let it slow down her training. She'd focused harder, determined to ensure that she would never befall the same fate. Granted, saying and doing were two vastly different things, as Tarissa had learned. She could say all she wanted that she would stay alive, that she would protect herself, but it didn't mean anything if you couldn't be ready when the time comes.

She didn't need to worry about that now, though. Now, she had other concerns on her plate. She was told that she was getting a new Master. The circumstances of this reassignment seemed rather unusual, as the man who was going to take her was a man named Lysander Odakota - and she'd heard that he hadn't had a Padawan in ages after something happened to his last one. What exactly, she didn't know, and she wasn't going to be so tactless as to ask him.

She took a deep breath, letting the cool, fragrant air of the garden fill her lungs, and gently letting it out, trying to send her nervousness along with it. Jedi should not be afraid of new things or new people. She sensed, though, that this was not fear - it was more of an uncertainty of the future, a worry that perhaps Master Odakota would not be able to help her.

Shaking her head, she pushed those thoughts away quickly. Doubt was not the thing she needed right now, and she began to listen more to the flowing water and gentle breeze. The sounds of the moving plants and droplets breaking the surface of the pool began to form a pattern, and she kept time in her head of nature's own beat. She stood, giving a small clear of her throat and started to sing - softly, gently, trying to imitate the breeze as much as possible.

Act one, scene one,
Enter stage left and begin.
Hit all your cues,
pay all your dues,
deliver your lines with a grin.

Speak slow, speak clear,
No single word left unsaid,
Diction and meter,
Rhymes getting sweeter,
Somebody's words in your stead.

She grew louder, more confident, and her voice began to carry, mixing with the bubbling of the fountain and the rush of wind. She didn't care if anyone was listening - she liked people to hear her - but still she felt that this one should be more private, more secretive. She always sang when nervous, and Master Drennan had always been eager to listen, even if the lyrics were stale or rotten.

The curtain will fall at the end of it all,
And what have we got left to show?
The world's still there, the people still stare,
Yet their interest was lost long ago.

Act two, scene two,
The orchestra heralds us in,
Unsure what to say,
Not your best day,
Forgetting your lines, such a sin.

Take it all, fake it all,
Improve as best you can,
If they can't tell
They'll never yell,
It plays as if you just began.

The orchestra was playing in her head - the bass with gentle deep notes, vibrating entire bodies. The strings, carrying the melody, giving it the lift and grace it needed to become the song she wanted. The woodwinds, higher notes that changed as often as the mind, softer notes that nonetheless possessed a deep capability for making a song stand out.

Maybe Xion would hear. He always did like to play his flute.

Finishing up, she took a deep breath, a short pause, and gave the instruments enough time to build for the crescendo.

The curtain will fall at the end of it all,
And what have we got left to show?
The world's still there, the people still stare,
Yet their interest was lost long ago.

And the rest was silence. A small pause as the conductor stopped moving, players ceased their actions, and it was that eternal silence between the completion of the piece and the applause that followed.

This time, though, she heard no applause, no whistles or claps. The water's gurgling resumed, the wind whipped up the leaves, and she sat back down on the bench, awaiting the arrival of Lysander.

Somehow, though, she didn't feel as nervous. She hoped she stayed that way.

[Lysander Odakota]

Lysander’s life had been pretty stable for a few years now. After the demise of Grahnt, things had mostly stayed the same for him. Missions in the usual sense, with only the slight change of pace as he started working with the Alliance as well as the Order; same friends to be had as emotional backup, predominantly Shay as predicted; same responsibilities, same levels if interest in the same old things.

Not to say his life hadn’t been interesting--his life had never failed to be interesting for any amount of significant time. Things had been crazy and dangerous and, dare he even say, entertaining since the last big change in his life. Sure, there had been little footnotes of unusual activity--that little affair on Onderon being predominant among them--but nothing lasting and certainly nothing life changing. For all intents and purposes, he had been Jedi Knight Lysander Odakota, same as ever, saving the galaxy one problem at a time. He’d liked it, too. Content, he hadn’t pushed for any changes.

However, within the last few months, things had started to shift. It had begun with the debacle of a mission on Talasea where he had met on Wing Commander Bravil, Confederate pilot and Alliance spy. That had started a snowball that now landed him where he was, heading to find a young woman named Tarissa Rysand.

Anyone who knew him well enough would note him as an altered man within the last couple of weeks. The most subtle of these changes was an odd lift to the spirits of the man who was usually an optimistic sort anyways. There was a light to be had that really nothing could smother in him. Most people noticing it wouldn’t begin to know from where it came. Only his dear sister was privy to the details of his intriguing encounter on Nubia. He’d only just arrived back on Shedu Maad after reporting to Alliance Intel about his success on that planet--not the success that had him a changed man, but the official, ‘on the books’ success he’d been sent there to attain--not more than a day before.

Shay had had plenty to tell him, but not before she’d forced the truth of Nubia and one very pretty lady he’d found there out of him. Never able to resist the Interrogator’s persistence, he’d given her all the details he’d dared, and decided to count that as his admission to the Council that he was romantically involved. No way in the galaxy was he giving that information to Sage Master Stone’s face.

So, in giving his news to the “Council,” he’d gotten some in return. Much to his surprise--and many moments of insistently asking “Are you sure?”--, Master Marin had dutifully informed him that the Council considered him worthy of the promotion to Master that had been just outside his grasp for years. It had been shock enough, the promotion something that Lysander had long since become content in thinking he’d never attain.

He’d moved on from that particular bit of information rather quickly, though, when his dear, best and wonderful friend had made a request of him he’d hoped she’d never make. As a voice for the Council, she held some weight, and that alone should have pushed him to doing this duty. But that wasn’t what had him walking up the gently sloping hallway of the Redoubt to the surface gardens. No, it was because it was the one person he trusted with all his heart in the galaxy asking him to finally take on another Padawan that he was doing it.

It was his duty, he knew that and understood that, but there were reasons he’d made it abundantly clear in the past that he didn’t want to do it again. Holee’s death had been blow enough to his confidence. But that had been an accident, something he had been able to eventually put behind him with confidence. Grahnt, unfortunately, had been troubled from the start, half-trained and recently masterless when Lysander had taken the teenager on.

To this day, the Guardian wasn’t entirely certain what had pushed his last apprentice over the edge and into that darkness. Lysander still felt it was some inadequacies of his own that had attributed to the younger man’s fall. He’d since determined it hadn’t been his fault--Grahnt had made the choice, after all, and Lysander had been good to him--but it still bothered the newly minted Master. Coming up on six years... six years since the Jedi Padawan had committed a streak of murders, six years since Lysander’s hand had been forced into tracking down and slaying a boy he’d come to see as something of a brother.

It still ate at him. Not like it used to, but it still had a piercing grip on the edge of his self-confidence, dragging him down only when he paid it any mind. He fixed this by generally forgetting about it. He was busy enough it was easy to forget.

Today, he couldn’t stop remembering.

Shay had asked him to do it. For Tarissa’s sake, but Lysander felt it was mostly done with him in mind. Shay persisted in trying to move Lysander past the inadequate feelings. She had been pressuring him lightly to take another student for years, for his own good. He had a lot to offer, she’d insist. He wasn’t going to end in failure, she’d press. He knew she was right, he took her words as fact, and yet...

Well, her Councilwoman status had finally come to haunt him in a real way. Her request hadn’t been an order, but she’d known the moment she asked him that he wouldn’t say no. He was too dutiful, too loyal to say no, and if anyone could sway him where he otherwise was being stubborn, it was Shay.

If Tarissa was nervous, her new Master was moreso. He was downright anxious, actually. He hid it well, his steps light enough to pass as normal and steel blue eyes lit with apparent ease. Anyone trying to read his emotional state, though, would see it. He was doing a good job, not broadcasting it, but hit too close to his aura and that tinge would be there. Not enough to worry anyone but himself, but it was definitely there.

He wasn’t panicking, at least. He felt he had Constance to thank for that, even if she was lightyears and lightyears distant. Still fresh off of Nubia, he couldn’t shake that glow she’d given him. If he could handle that potentially disastrous relationship--by nature of their duties and positions and not the nature of the people themselves-- he could handle a Padawan, right? Right. And Tarissa was no Grahnt. Sure, she had just lost her master like he had and she was a relative unknown to Lysander like Grahnt had been at the start, and sure, they were both Guardians with a combat base, but...

That was where the similarities were going to stop.

Apply what you’ve learned, trust in her, and you both will be fine, he told himself, paraphrasing some of the advice his dear sister had been so kind to give him in her pep talk. He didn’t believe himself, but he believed Shay, and that was the story he was sticking to.

He loved these gardens. They weren’t like the ones back on Ossus that he’d grown up with, but they were similar enough. It was better than being underground in the bulk of the Redoubt. Here there was vast amounts of sunlight to be had and an environment other than rock walls to be admired. It was alive here. The faint trill of a song, a female voice reached his ears. He was far enough away he could just barely make out the tune, none of the words. Taking a few deep breaths, letting the atmosphere of this place take him, he felt himself calm.

Overcoming emotion was one of his greater attributes. This situation was an anomaly in his usual amount of control; this was a subject of his weakness. But as he drew closer to his goal, something in him seemed to click. This was a duty just like any other, he had the skill set and the ability to overcome any obstacle in his path. He just had to remain calm and mindful, and nothing would go wrong. Sure, this was going to be a long and rather lasting mission, but the same details applied.

He knew Padawan Rysand from her file as well as observance from a distance. He knew she was familiar with Xion, which meant she had to be alright. Xion had a good head about him, Lysander saw to it. If she could get along with that boy, she was likely to get on rather well with Lysander himself. He hoped. No, he knew. He wasn’t hard to get along with, and from the sounds of it, neither was the one he sought now.

The singing had stopped before he’d found her, sitting comfortably on a bench near one of the fountains. This was a familiar scene to the Guardian. Many of his best and closest conversations with Shay had been on a bench in the gardens back on Ossus. This lent some more comfort to his heart, and managing to forget Grahnt and all the responsibilities being a Master implied for now, he slid comfortably to a sitting position next to the young woman.

This was important to him, this sitting to greet her instead of standing over her, approaching on a level of friends instead of ranked beings. There would be time later to make their master/padawan relationship jive in the manner of giving and taking orders. He wanted her respect for the fact that respect made these things work, but what he needed first was some common ground a budding friendship. He just couldn’t work any other way.

“Hey Tarissa,” he greeted casually, a simple smile gracing his visage as he angled his body to properly look at her. He offered her a friendly hand in greeting--not the most Jedi of gestures, but one he felt comfortable with after all his years in the field.

He should have prepared some speech or something. Well, no, he shouldn’t have, but he at least should have thought of something to say to her upon greeting. He really didn’t have anything, though. Earlier nerves and current ease left him with no sure words that he felt he just had to say. Really, what do you say to someone you were going to spend the next few years with?

So he settled on, “How’s life?” It could be taken as casually or as seriously as she wanted. Given that she’d recently lost a mentor, it was a loaded question. It would be a good way to gauge her, see how far she’d come from that loss. If there was anything he’d learned from Shay, it was how to read and get information from people when they didn’t necessarily realize that’s what you were doing. Not that he wanted to trick his new Padawan or anything, but oblivious people tended to be the most honest.

[Tarissa Rysand]

Her moment of silence was pleasantly interrupted by the man sitting himself down next to her on the bench. She glanced over, then turned to face him upon realizing that this was the man she had been waiting for. He was smiling, a good sign, and he felt rather calmed, despite the situation. She could learn plenty from him just by studying him - a note she made to remind herself about later.

“Hey Tarissa.” His hand extended. An odd greeting for a Jedi, but protocol upon meetings such as these tended to be nonspecific, and so she did as best she could and shook it. His hands felt a little rough, but nothing than your usual Jedi would have. His grip was firm and strong, a sure sign of a Guardian, but his smile revealed an odd disposition compared to some other Masters. He seemed rather optimistic in this time. Unusual, yet refreshing.

She liked him right off, that much was easy to tell. He was open, taking this relationship as one of two friends rather than the Master/Apprentice line that it was going to take. It was a good start that he didn't try to make it seem like they were always this way, or that he was already so superior. It reminded her of Drennan, unfortunately, and how he was to her, as a friend and a source of counsel...

No, cease this line of thought, Tarissa. Drennan is passed on. This man is new, yet unproven, and attempting to compare or associate him with Master Zilar would be doing both of them a disservice.

She smiled a little bit herself, somewhat dreading the talking part. She never managed to get out the right words when she wasn't singing, and her brain tended to default to the large, more awkward ones. She figured it had something to do with all the books and data entries she had poured over during her years, but it still annoyed her to no end.

“How’s life?”

She sighed slightly, meeting his eyes with her own as she replied. "I am breathing and functioning at a normal capacity, and my emotional state has settled on being stable and content for the time being despite the unfortunate and unexpected mortality which occurred several months ago. No events which are noteworthy have happened as of late, which may have been the response to your query that you were looking for. To put it more simply, I am doing okay, and I am prepared to face whatever challenges the future has for me.

Her tone were melodic, her voice soft, but she spoke with an odd tempo. The girl was oddly formal, her sentences long and overly wordy, and it seemed as though she had trouble trying to simplify what she was saying and make it less uptight. It annoyed her to no end, but she enjoyed speaking, and she was working with Xion to speak less obtusely.

"To that end, I will refrain from speaking too much of what happened to my former Master, as it would upset me, and I do not wish to make a bad impression or give you incorrect information that would lead to false assumptions on the part of my mental well-being. It is not that I do not trust you, nor do I wish for you to presume that you are not an important person to me as of now, but it is something that I simply do not desire to think or speak about.

"Along those same lines, I will not attempt to ask questions about your personal life or your former Padawan. As I have been lead to understand, both are rather off limits when it comes to inquiries, and I do not believe our relationship would be best served by having constant reminders and refreshers of what once happened in the past. I will do my best to differentiate you from Master Zilar, as I am trying to do so now, and I must learn and respect you for who you are as opposed to a simple replacement. Calling you as such and continuing in that line of thought would not give you the respect you deserve for taking me on as a Padawan, an act for which I am eternally grateful.

"I would continue on in this vein, but I suspect that I have answered your question to a degree far beyond that which you were expecting, and thus my reply threatens on to be overly verbose. To that design, I shall end it with a simple answer of, I'm doing okay. How are you?"

She sighed internally. She'd have to talk with Xion more to get over this annoyance. She just hoped Lysander was able to get what she meant from all of that.

[Lysander Odakota]

Tarissa’s reaction to Lysander’s decision on how to approach her was a positive one. She considered him in a friendly fashion, accepting the handshake with a curious nature but not resisting the unusual gesture. As she immediately liked him, he immediately liked her, finding her aura nonabrasive and surprisingly forthright. He liked that.

He a flighty moment of sorrow, but dismissed it as she moved past it within a smooth second. She had reason for sorrow, he wouldn’t latch onto it if she didn’t. To dwell unnecessarily would only worsen the wound. She hesitated a moment after he asked his question, as well, as if worried either about what to say or how exactly to say it. He nodded to her, hoping she understood she wasn’t on trial in any way--he wasn’t here to judge, but to learn.

"I am breathing and functioning at a normal capacity, and my emotional state has settled on being stable [...] To put it more simply, I am doing okay, and I am prepared to face whatever challenges the future has for me.”

He managed to keep it from reaching his face but... Holy kriff, how much time has this child spent in the archives?! he wondered in bewilderment. He could think of no other explanation for her word usage. Either she was taking this meeting far too seriously and trying to impress him, or this was how she normally spoke. The bizarre, melodic ease with which she spoke lead him to believe the latter, but it only dumbfounded him further.

Honestly, he’d gotten more relaxed vocabulary out of Dimmer, and Dimmer was downright pretentious, even as a droid.

He moved past the shock quickly, though, focusing instead on her words like he’d intended to. He liked what he heard, as she expounded on the question in odd detail. So, she was doing as well as anyone could expect. Alive, and moving on. That’s what he wanted to hear. Of course, she might have known that, so it remained to be seen whether or not that assessment held up to scrutiny. The truth would out, one way or another. If what had happened to her Master still got to her more than she would admit, he’d find out. For her sake, as well as his own.

He remained silent as she spoke, letting her have her turn to answer the question without him interrupting. He’d asked a loaded question, and he got whatever came to him.

"To that end, I will refrain from speaking too much of what happened to my former Master [...] but it is something that I simply do not desire to think or speak about.”

An interesting choice on her part. He could respect it, but only when he was certain it wasn’t going to harm her in the long run. Bottling up emotion was the worst of it. He knew for certain you had to work on it, not ignore it. If she didn’t dissolve the negative emotion now or at least soon, it would just crop up again later to bite her.

Admittedly, he wasn’t perfect on this example. Take Grahnt, for example...

"Along those same lines, I will not attempt to ask questions about your personal life or your former Padawan.”

Oh, yup, there it was. Sure, he’d dealt with it to an extent six years ago, to the point where it wasn’t going to destroy anyone’s lives, but... It had still stopped him from taking on another Padawan until someone had specifically assigned him to the task. Who else might he have helped if he’d manned up to the job before now?

[...] I will do my best to differentiate you from Master Zilar, [...] taking me on as a Padawan, an act for which I am eternally grateful.”

He smiled to her thanks, glad she had such faith in him thus far. He hoped he lived up to that generous nature... didn’t let her down. She seemed very honest, perhaps a little eager to get her words out. She assumed what he wanted, probably from what others had said about him or from the reputation of Masters in general. He’d have to correct her on that front.

"I would continue on in this vein, but [...] I'm doing okay. How are you?"

He laughed faintly, genuinely amused. “Well, to answer you simply, I’m doing pretty damn great.” He was surprised to find that he really meant that. Anxiety had melted away with her oddly tempoed words. He didn’t feel the pressure, not yet, and he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, Shay had been perfectly right all along. Truly.

He studied her, noting that she’d said she was merely ‘okay.’ “Hopefully we can rub a little of that off on you, take the perk up a couple of notches, Tarissa.” He folded his arms casually, finger on one hand tapping against his clothed bicep.

“As for a more complicated reply to your admittedly complicated answer to my slightly invasive question...” his smile remained as he trailed off for a beat before continuing. “I want you to understand something, Padawan. There are no secrets between us, here on out. I can’t operate in a relationship where things are kept hidden. Not to say I want to pressure you into talking about anything and everything that comes up, but... the important things. I want you to be able to talk to me about Drennan’s passing, about how that makes you feel. Maybe not now, but eventually. You have no shame in feeling sorrow, I won’t condemn you or judge you on that front.”

The Guardian’s smile turned a little wry as he pressed on. “As for not inquiring about my past and my personal life, that’s not off limits. Not to you. I... may be more reluctant to discuss certain things at length, but the ‘no secrets’ rule has to fly both ways. You get my vector? I want you to be comfortable with me. That means you have to know who I am, and that includes the things I’m not especially proud of.”

Yeah, he didn’t like talking about Grahnt’s fall. It was an unspoken agreement between himself and Shay that they rarely mention him, especially not by name. It just wasn’t done, at least not anymore. But there had been a time when understanding had needed to be between them, when the wound was still fresh... They had talked plenty then. There was no more need for discussion on the matter between himself and Shay because she already knew everything there was to know. The same couldn’t be said for thing young woman sitting with him now.

“That said, we don’t have to get into the heavy stuff for a while if you don’t want to. These things, I think, should be taken at your pace.”

[Tarissa Rysand]

She was a bit surprised by his laughter, but it made her smile some all the same. She was very glad to see him laugh – it meant that though her words were awkward, her meaning was clear.

“Well, to answer you simply, I’m doing pretty damn great.”

This was also good news. Being unaware of sensing a person's emotional state without significant effort, Tarissa had studied both old books and modern guides in order to better understand nonverbal communication. Jedi, depending on the Force to sense emotions, rarely bothered to mask them physically or attempt to hide what they were feeling beyond the Force.

Lysander, however, appeared to be an exception to this. His expressions and posture revealed someone quite used to having to hide what he was feeling, and she was wondering if there was perhaps a reason they assigned her to this particular Master – one that she was not yet privy to. She was able to get a few details, though – small cracks and breaks in his shell gleaned a few morsels of his true emotional state.

What he didn't say was somewhat telling. He seemed genuinely happy for what was occurring between them, yet she caught a fleeting glimpse of some darker worry as it vanished into his mind. She wasn't sure what had triggered (or now removed) that small glimpse. Perhaps it was the mention of his old Padawan, or maybe he was still unsure about taking a new one, or some concern about how she was dealing with the loss of Drennan. Whatever it may be, Tarissa was pleased to note that it showed two things about Lysander. One, he was concerned with one or all of those, and rightfully so. Two, he cared enough about this meeting to put his own doubts and worries aside, choosing instead to focus on the here and now.

Hearing that he was great, of course, only made her feel better.

“Hopefully we can rub a little of that off on you, take the perk up a couple of notches, Tarissa.”

She looked away from him a little, smiling somewhat abashedly. Maybe that was true. She was never really in such a down state, not that she could ever remember. It'd been a while, sure, but some part of her had never seemed to heal, some burning want inside her. She noticed it when she pushed herself in training, when the rush of power that went through her body whispered dangerous thoughts into her mind. She knew the call of the dark side, she knew what to look for, but this seemed different. It bothered her that she couldn't figure out how or what, though. Perhaps all would be revealed in time, and perhaps this new Master could help her with those lingering feelings.

“As for a more complicated reply to your admittedly complicated answer to my slightly invasive question...”

She smiled a bit and met his eyes again as he stated his own overly verbose reply. He wasn't making fun of her or mocking her, just acknowledging the fact that she tended to speak a little weird. Coming from someone else, her manner of speech sounded distinctly alien. She made a mental note to work more on it as time went on. The fact that he kept smiling himself, of course, made it even better. She liked him quite a bit already.

“I want you to understand something, […] I won’t condemn you or judge you on that front.”

That, though, was sweet music to her ears. She didn't want to offend the Master who just spent so much time and effort presenting himself well by not really wishing to speak about what happened. It still brought some pain to her when she thought about it, and though she knew that she would be ready in enough time, she didn't want it to keep bothering her until she finally just quit. Lysander really seemed to understand this, and she wondered if perhaps he'd suffered himself from the death of someone close. A Jedi was never supposed to form deep personal attachments, but that didn't mean that everyone followed that rule – least of all herself.

Maybe as time went on, she would find that it didn't hurt to speak of Drennan anymore. Maybe the feelings would vanish, swept away like a grain of sand on a vast ocean of dunes. Maybe one day, she'd tell him everything. She hoped she would.

“As for not inquiring about my past […] and that includes the things I’m not especially proud of.”

Tarissa couldn't help but wonder what little secrets of his own her new Master was hiding. She wouldn't dream to ask, of course, not now, but she still wondered about this man who was so different from most of the other Jedi she knew. They were stoic, closed off, and aloof to the point of indifference. Lysander, though, was open and kind, far more emotional and willing to get down to her level. She wanted to talk to him now, to tell him what she was feeling and where she was hurting and just what was going on that made her feel like absolute poodoo some days.

Still, it's as he said. Best to wait some. She wanted to talk to him, but she thought things of that nature should wait until they were at least better acquainted.

He seemed to slip a little bit, that small darkness coming back to cloud his face. It seemed that they both had things that needed discussing, but those could come when they would. No sense rushing the inevitable.

“That said, we don’t have to get into the heavy stuff for a while if you don’t want to. These things, I think, should be taken at your pace.”

She took a deep breath and looked down for a moment, still hardly believe her luck and thanking the Force that she was granted such a spectacular Master. She was fearing that one of those Jedi would get her, someone who didn't understand what had happened or one of those who was convinced that purging all emotion was the correct path.

Instead, she was granted a very good friend – exactly what she needed now.

Smiling as she looked up, she said a simple “Thank you” before reaching forward and giving the taller man a small hug. It wasn't something she did often, but she had been told before that when words would not do, a physical action should take the place of it. Here, she found that the words she wanted to express of how grateful she was simply would not flow, even in her usual jilted manner. Still, she had to try.

“Thank you, Master, for that response. I can see now that the reputation that I have learned about you is most certainly true – that you are a kind and empathic man. I do not know why the Force has chosen to bring us together, but I can say with complete certainty that I am utterly satisfied in the choices that it has presented. I thank you as well for your openness, and I assure you that I will strive to return that which you have given me. Please understand that though your offer is appealing, I do not think I am ready to describe how I feel about what happened. It is through no fault of you, I can say that with utmost certainty.”

Having one part of the introductions done with, Tarissa's heart and mind were stilled from their earlier state of racing anxiety. Her doubts of this man had vanished as he spoke, and she was very sure now that this partnership would be one that she would very much enjoy. “As for my pace, I would decidedly prefer to keep it slow, at least for a short while. For now, I would much like to hear more about you. I have heard your name and reputation, but I am decidedly unfamiliar with who you are. Would you please enlighten me?”

[Lysander Odakota]

“Thank you.”

Tarissa’s hug was unexpected but welcome. He accepted it and returned it, the embrace light and swift, but meaningful. “Thanks to you, too,” he returned, knowing she was doing him as much a favor as he was for her in this partnership. He pat her on the shoulder as she let go of him, liking her increasingly with every point of interaction they had. “And you’re welcome.”

“Thank you, Master, for that response. I can see now that the reputation that I have learned about you is most certainly true – that you are a kind and empathic man.”

The new Master regarded her with a smile and a shrug, a little embarrassed by the fact that that his reputation had lead her to that proper conclusions. It was flattering, and he wasn’t sure he quite deserved it, but he’d take it without protest. Tarissa seemed nothing if not sincere in her estimation of him, and he only hoped he’d continue to live up to that. A lot of work was ahead of them both, and only time could possibly tell if he’d do her the justice she deserved in her training.

He would not fail her, could not fail her...

”I do not know why the Force has chosen to bring us together, [...] It is through no fault of you, I can say that with utmost certainty.”

He understood and nodded that understanding. He wasn’t exactly ready to talk about certain things either, though he would if she asked. It seemed, for the moment, as if they were on mutual agreement to hold off on the harder conversations. Getting to know one another first was the first goal--build some real and honest trust, and then the darker secrets and feelings would be more easily shared even while still holding them close to the originating heart.

As long as she understood he was here to listen anytime and he didn’t want her wallowing in self doubt or pain, that was all that mattered. He felt content that she did, as he didn’t get any real darkness from her now, no sign that she was hiding any truth from him.

They could move on.

”For now, I would much like to hear more about you. I have heard your name and reputation, but I am decidedly unfamiliar with who you are. Would you please enlighten me?”

He laughed and shrugged, shifting his weight back somewhat so he could look at her better. “Oh, I don’t know, I’m not that interesting. Born on Onderon almost thirty-six years ago, the Order found me before I was even walking. Was picked up as a Padawan by Bothan Master Mosk Vin’Bolder at eleven years of age. Trained to be a Guardian with him until I was nineteen and was knighted...” He shrugged lightly again, not finding this all that interesting himself. “Nothing too out of the ordinary. Worked with a couple of Padawans before you,” he rushed through the mention of those two, clearly not looking to elaborate. “Since then I’ve worked mostly solo, half pretending to be an Investigator thanks to my best friend and adoptive big sister’s influence.”

His tone was distinctly fond as he mentioned said big sister. “I suppose that if you don’t already know, you should be made aware that I’m talking about Shay Marin of the Council. Don’t mess up, or you answer to her almost as much as you answer to me,” he teased.

“If you want anything more specific, feel free to ask. I really don’t know where to begin talking about myself, I’m not incredibly enthralling, I’m afraid. Mostly average by Jedi standards.”

[Tarissa Rysand]

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m not that interesting. Born on Onderon […] Since then I’ve worked mostly solo, half pretending to be an Investigator thanks to my best friend and adoptive big sister’s influence.”

She giggled some, a musical laugh as she heard his tone shift when he spoke of the sister. She was unaware that he had a sister, but then again, she didn't know much about the man. No, it was more the Investigator line that had gotten her attention. It was a line of work that she had considered going into at one point before realizing that though the hard, detail-oriented work of one was suited to her, the personal skills and cover identity part of the job was decidedly not. Sneaking around and striking from the shadows is what she could do - no point in making it worse by mixing in having to talk to people.

“I suppose that if you don’t already know, you should be made aware that I’m talking about Shay Marin of the Council. Don’t mess up, or you answer to her almost as much as you answer to me,”

She brightened up a bit when she heard the name, smiling. "Master Marin! Yes, I am aware of her. She and I are able to communicate very fluidly, like she understands what I mean behind my ultimately confusing array of words. We've talked several times, and I am amazed by her understanding, no matter what the subject matter. Please, do not be worried. I will do my very best under your tutelage, and whatever advice she sees fit to bestow on me. So far, it has been excellent." She looked to Lysander, a little confused. "You mentioned the word sister in relation to her. Are you and her in the same bloodline, Master?"

“If you want anything more specific, feel free to ask. I really don’t know where to begin talking about myself, I’m not incredibly enthralling, I’m afraid. Mostly average by Jedi standards.”

It was hard to begin in situations like this, as Tarissa knew. Talking and socializing were not her forte, but if given a topic she could talk on it at length. Now, though, she had to come up with a topic, and she began to cast about in her head whilst looking for a suitable conversation piece.

Eventually, she settled upon a main love in her life. Xion was able to help her in this venture, and if Lysander was able to join, they could make even better melodies. She enjoyed expressing what she thought through music, and she had many, many fond memories of beautiful melodies and harmonic tones drifting from the gardens through the halls of the Redoubt.

She thought for a moment, tapping a finger on her chin and looking away, before turning back to Lysander and smiling a bit. "Do you have any skill with a musical instrument, Master? Xion is adept at the flute, and I will often accompany him with my singing. Would you be able to perhaps add to our musical sessions with your own contribution?"

[Lysander Odakota]

"Master Marin! Yes, I am aware of her. She and I are able to communicate very fluidly, [...] So far, it has been excellent."

That went a long way as to explaining why Shay had thought that Lysander would be a good choice for Tari, and vice versa. If Shay was familiar with Tarissa, there was less chance for personalities to mismatch and for things to go poorly. That, and if Shay and Tari got along, there would be some level of desire to see Tari get a good master. And in Shay’s eyes, who was a better candidate for a friend than Ly-Ly?

For all his misgivings, this was a case of ‘so far, so good’ and looked to stay that course for hopefully the duration of Tarissa’s remaining training. “Good, glad to hear it!” Lys informed the young woman with a ever brightening look. “And now I know who to go to if I need a translator,” he teased. He understood Tari well enough, even if he did have to sort through her meaning a little more than he was accustomed to doing.

Count on Shay to do what even he couldn’t manage. Again, he’d have to learn from her example. Not that he didn’t look forward to that completely. If there was ever anyone he aspired to be like, Shay Marin was that person.

"You mentioned the word sister in relation to her. Are you and her in the same bloodline, Master?"

That got a chuckle out of the new Master and a shake of his head. “No, no, not even close. I suppose ‘sister’ is something of a misnomer. ‘Best friend’ might be more accurate, but doesn’t really cover it. We grew up together, from the time I was a toddler. She’s always been something of a sister, mother, best friend, what have you, to me.” He considered for a moment how to explain it best. “We’re Force Bonded, so we’ve moved beyond conventional definitions, I’m afraid. I like to think she’s my better half, though she’d like to protest ‘better’ so ‘other half’ might work more to her preference.” He smirked a little as he shrugged.

“So yeah, I call her my sister, but it’s really for lack of a better word.”

"Do you have any skill with a musical instrument, Master? [...] with your own contribution?”

Ahah, that was the direction she chose to take it? Obviously music was important to her if she had any door open to ask any question and she chose this one. Sadly, he didn’t have much to offer in this line of conversation.

“Ah, afraid not. Haven’t really the time to discover any musical talent, if I even have one. Having a Bothan master didn’t really open many doors for me--he wasn’t particularly artistic in any way, unless you count proper lightsaber technique an art form.” He shook his head and laughed. “I actually couldn’t tell you the last time I even so much as tried singing, even in jest.” He gave the girl a considering look. “You might have a few things to teach me, I’m afraid.”

[Tarissa Rysand]

“And now I know who to go to if I need a translator,”

She blushed a bit, well aware of her speech quirks. He seemed to be understanding her rather well, so she was not worried about communicated information being lost between them. She'd spent too much time in the Archives reading books that were not on interpersonal communication. She made a mental note to go and read over more of those as time went on in addition to her normal volumes. She certainly had time.

“We’re Force Bonded, so we’ve moved beyond conventional definitions, […] ‘other half’ might work more to her preference.”

She tilted her head, trying to understand. "I am pleased to hear that you are such a good friend in Master Shay. She is a wonderful person, and I am grateful to know her, and I would like many chances to get to be closer friends with her. She is very busy though, especially recently with the events of post-Korriban. I have been made aware of Force Bonds, but I cannot attest to my experience with them, as it has been limited or nonexistent at best. Perhaps one will form with someone I know. How do they form? Is it by chance through the Force, or is there some other emotional process that occurs in order to create this Bond?"

“So yeah, I call her my sister, but it’s really for lack of a better word.”

She nods and smiles. "I understand that. I hope we will be close as well, and I have a good premonition about that."

“You might have a few things to teach me, I’m afraid.”

She chuckles - a musical laugh. "I have not been made aware of the musical talents of the Bothans, but I believe you could sing. It is not difficult, anyone can do it - even you." She smiles. "I will be more than happy to give you lessons. If however you do not like singing, perhaps you will be more suited to an instrument such as the queterra. It requires dexterous fingers and a steady hand, which I am assured that you have based on your lightsaber prowess. I am certain there is one somewhere in the Redoubt, and I would be quite pleased if you could join Xion and myself in practicing our music." She nods, pleased. If he joined, that would be three of them.

Very beautiful music indeed.

[Lysander Odakota]

"I have been made aware of Force Bonds, [...] or is there some other emotional process that occurs in order to create this Bond?"

Tarissa didn’t leave a lot of space to get words in edgewise, but Lysander supposed she was used to that and wouldn’t notice when he didn’t comment on everything that she let slip into words. He didn’t comment on her wishing to get to know Shay better--there would definitely be time enough for that. Shay would have vested a specific interest in the relationship of Tarissa and Lysander, having essentially made it happen.

She seemed good at stopping when she had a specific question, though, and that gave him room to answer. And he was more than happy to. Force Bonds were something he was mercifully familiar with.

“Well, every Force Sensitive, trained or otherwise, has some ability towards one. The most common sort occurs between Master and apprentice, as they work and grow together over a long period of time. That’s the key with most Bonds--time. And while all Sensitives have the ability, it’s in theory that some people are more prone to forming them than others. A natural proficiency, if you will.” He wouldn’t have been surprised to find out that was pure fact, as he seemed to create them on varying levels himself without any effort. Shay was just the prime example in his life.

“Stronger ones--like the one Shay and I share--are relatively uncommon. It makes for easy--effortless, in fact--sharing of emotion, passage of thoughts, coordination in combat, things like that. It’s not uncommon for her and I to share a thought and really not even know who the thought originated with. It’s a mixture of having grown up together and the effects of the Bond itself.” As for whether or not Tari would ever have one... “It’s very possible that you could develop one of your own, with me or another close ally. I don’t think it’s something you can necessarily demand develop, but it certainly can be encouraged, I think.”

That said, there were danger that came with Force Bonds, but that was for another time and place. She didn’t need the whole dissertation. They had plenty of training and lectures and whatever else ahead of them. She might have been able ot handle that much information at once, but it’d make him go cross-eyed before too long.

”It is not difficult, anyone can do it - even you."

That made him laugh, though certainly not in mockery of the idea. Oh, how fresh this young woman was. What had he been afraid of? He’d already forgotten. This was just too priceless. He’d have to make a point of thanking Shay.

"I will be more than happy to give you lessons. [...] I am certain there is one somewhere in the Redoubt, and I would be quite pleased if you could join Xion and myself in practicing our music."

“The queterra?” He was familiar with the stringed instrument for what it was, but he couldn’t go so far as to say he’d ever so much as touched one. “Huh, that actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea, Tari. Well, let’s make a deal. You help me learn something of your musical passion and I’ll teach you everything I know.” Quite the deal, that. If Tari wanted him to learn something she loved, he couldn’t very well say no... that, and he didn’t really have many hobbies these days. Or, any. He was so busy being all business that he sometimes forgot what it was like to do something for there mere entertainment value of it.

“Hell, I’ll even sing if you want me to badly enough.” He just hoped Tari didn’t have reason to regret such a request. Like he’d said, it had been a while, he wasn’t sure if he even had it in him to be good. From what he’d heard at a distance, Tarissa had some genuine talent in the arena of vocal ability.

[Tarissa Rysand]

“Well, every Force Sensitive, trained or otherwise, has some ability towards one. The most common sort occurs between Master and apprentice, as they work and grow together over a long period of time. That’s the key with most Bonds--time. And while all Sensitives have the ability, it’s in theory that some people are more prone to forming them than others. A natural proficiency, if you will.”"

She nodded, it now sounding more familiar. She had until recently had such a bond with Drennan, which she mused was how she so personally felt the shock of his death. It had always been a comfort, knowing someone else was there, on the other end of that tether which bound them together across the stars. A blessing, she had taken that feeling for granted until one day, while her Master was away at Korriban for the invasion, she suddenly felt a large tear in herself, like part of her soul had been torn away, leaving behind it a frayed patchwork cloth.

The shock was the hardest part - that sudden feeling of closeness that she had grown accustomed to vanished as quickly as ship going to hyperspace, only without the smooth zoom. She knew immediately what had happened, what she had lost, and she dropped to her knees, curled up into a little ball, and wept, her tears flowing freely onto the floor of the training room she was in. There she stayed, and though she stopped crying after a few moments, she refused to move for a few hours, still in disbelief, feeling a loss and a pain that she had never felt in her life. Following that, she'd dragged herself to her feet, walked slowly to her room and collapsed onto her bed, where she slept for a full day, waking only to eat.

The day after that, however, she was up and about. Depressed, certainly, but conscious and reactive enough to go about her daily lessons. When the group came back from Korriban a few weeks later, she was waiting to see the ships land and the Jedi exit, hoping against hope in a fruitless and ultimately hopeless wish that he would also emerge, smiling and coming over to see her. Of course, her wish went unfulfilled as all the Jedi exited, and she saw his visage on none of them. That's when they started to bring out the bodies.

She'd only glanced on it, unwilling to fully see his wounds, and that glance was enough to see the burns and scorch marks that covered his flesh. One of the Jedi attending to the body noticed her, saw her face, and he walked over to her before handing her a silver-and-black lightsaber. She ignited it briefly, enough to confirm her memories of his sky-blue blade, before retracting it and clipping it to her belt. From that day forward, she had never used the saber. She did not wish to be rid of it, for fear that ridding her of the tool would rid her of memories of him as well, painful as they may be. She longed to cling onto the past, to when her soul was not frayed and torn.

Now, though, she could feel those old threads getting resewn. Something was happening - a patchwork, quick-fix job, perhaps, but it was being dealt with, and she couldn't be happier that it was. She had not fallen to despair, but her anger and feelings of helplessness did not aid matters at all, and between then and now she'd had more than one "accident" in the training sessions where she had pushed herself too far, past her physical limits, and collapsed from exhaustion as a result. The cause - her emotions and unwillingness to let go of what she felt - was determined fairly early on, which lead to a very quick reassignment of her lessons.

Things would get better, even if it took a while. Patience was a key aspect of the Jedi, and though she could not always be so, she strove to be do.

“Stronger ones--like the one Shay and I share--are relatively uncommon. It makes for easy--effortless, in fact--sharing of emotion, passage of thoughts, coordination in combat, things like that. It’s not uncommon for her and I to share a thought and really not even know who the thought originated with. It’s a mixture of having grown up together and the effects of the Bond itself.”

She nodded again, quite understanding. "So you are aware of the other's thoughts and presence no matter where they are or who they are with? Does this ever create or involve some emotionally-compromising situations if one of you wishes to be truly alone? It does seem as though it could be rather socially inept and awkward in certain situations, and I have been told to avoid or reduce those situations as often as possible, for they can lead to embarrassment."

“It’s very possible that you could develop one of your own, with me or another close ally. I don’t think it’s something you can necessarily demand develop, but it certainly can be encouraged, I think.”

She smiles this time, a wide grin that seems almost infectious. "I would very much appreciate forming such a Bond with you, Master, however it may happen. It is of great desire to me that I can aid you, and this bond would be most helpful towards that goal." Leaning back a bit on the bench, she changed her seating position to be more comfortable, as this talk was going on longer than planned, not that she minded. This was going to be a beginning of a great relationship, and she couldn't be happier that it was just so.

“Huh, that actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea, Tari. Well, let’s make a deal. You help me learn something of your musical passion and I’ll teach you everything I know.”

At these words, Tarissa straightened up, smiling, and clapped her hands a few times excitedly before leaning forward to give her new Master another tight hug. "I am very glad to hear it, Master! I would very much love to share some of my musical talent with you in exchange for everything that you know, although I am a bit concerned of the equal terms of the trade. I am not certain or assured that my musical knowledge is equivalent to your many years of experience." She giggled a bit, meeting his eyes again. "However, I also suspect that that was not the point of your offer, and so I shall take you up on it regardless, and I believe that we shall both benefit greatly from this mutually-beneficial partnership."

“Hell, I’ll even sing if you want me to badly enough.”

She grins again, all cheered up from her moment of outright depression a few moments ago when she was remembering her old Master. "Well, Master, that would not be necessary, but I would very much enjoy hearing your singing voice. Perhaps I can create some sheet work for you to study and learn from. I shall deal with that when the times comes, Master, and not a moment before." She nodded sagely, as though her words were pure gold. "Though, based on your existing skill-set, a musical instrument may be more in your chosen area of aptitude than a vocal performance. That way, you can join myself and Padawan Xion for musical practice or creation sessions. A queterra player would be a most welcome addition."

She leaned back against the bench again, carefree as carefree can be.

[Lysander Odakota]

"So you are aware of the other's thoughts and presence no matter where they are or who they are with? Does this ever create or involve some emotionally-compromising situations if one of you wishes to be truly alone?”

“Well, over distance it becomes less perceptible without some effort. In turn, when we’re immediately with each other, or in close proximity, it takes some serious effort to hide things like emotional state. Thoughts tend to be vaguer, unless specifically projected.” He shrugged, it was kind of hard to explain, even to a fellow Jedi. Some things just were.

“Over great distance I’m only aware that she exists. If she were in great peril, I’d be likely to notice, and definitely if she died, but beyond that I can’t really pick up anything. You’re right, it would be quite a distraction otherwise.”

"Though, based on your existing skill-set, a musical instrument may be more in your chosen area of aptitude than a vocal performance. [...] A queterra player would be a most welcome addition."

“Well, then, that settles it, that’s the direction we’re taking.” He continued to love Tarissa’s enthusiasm. “I’ll see what I can do about locating one, so you won’t have to worry about that.” He made it off planet often enough that even if he couldn’t find one in the Redoubt, he wouldn’t be at a loss.

“Well,” he concluded sharply. “I think we’ve sat here long enough. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. How about we find ourselves an afternoon meal and then run you through your paces, see what you already know.” He’d have no idea what to do with her if he didn’t know her strengths and weaknesses early on. “I’m prepared to be impressed, from what I hear.”

[Tarissa Rysand]

“I’m prepared to be impressed, from what I hear.”

Tarissa smiled at the compliment, knowing it to be at least somewhat true. Her record among the Padawans when it came to sparring was far higher in wins than losses, but against a fully trained Jedi Master, she wasn't sure how she was going to do or if she would even impress the man. Still, she felt confident that he'd be impressed with her skill level for where she was. Or, so she hoped.

Standing, she nodded to the suggestion of food. "That sounds most delightful to me, Master. I am feeling quite hungry myself and would desire some food. I am as well glad to hear of your interest in the musical arts. Being a student of them myself, I find them most relaxing at times and a good way to express creativity. Perhaps even Master Shay will be impressed?" She chuckled some and turned to face her new Master. "Let us be off, then, so we may find good seats and continue our discussion there."

As Lysander rose and they walked off together, any remaining apprehension Tarissa felt was left behind on the bench of the Garden. She trusted him already, and she knew that whatever problems she had, whatever challenges they may face, he would be by her side as a patient and willing teacher, but primarily, as a good friend. For the female Padawan, there could be no greater service in the world.