Two Jedi Walk into a Bar...

[Amos Iakona]

It was the middle of the morning; or rather, what someone had at some point arbetrarily decided was the morning. Amos had always thought it strange and illogical to cling on to such notions, what with every planet having a different rotational and orbital period. It was necessary, he supposed: without some sort of standardised time, you'd never know when tomorrow was; you'd never be able to grumble about having to be up for an early shift, either. But the idea that everyone let something so abstract govern the way they lived their lives.

Amos rebelled against that concept. It was just shy of 10:00, and he was already most of the way through his second beer.

There were no doubt a miriad of advantages to having the Rebel Cruiser Valiant coasting around the stars in amongst this rag-tag ensemble of freighters and transports where he found himself again. But right now, the only one that seemed of any importance was the availability of a steady source of decent alcohol.

He'd hoped to sit alone and have a drink in peace; unfortunately, the new barman - the old one had apparently been appropriated by Captain Tyree when he'd been reassigned - was a droid, with an overly peppy and eager personality program. Amos was actually surprised that none of the techs had yet managed to schedule the droid for "routine maintainance" to correct the problem, or at least install a comedic accent into its linguistical subroutines to make its constant thirst for conversation more tolerable. Maybe the reputation that Colonel Vorega had earned amongst the crew before she took command was enough to make them wary of potentially incurring her wrath.

Amos had been forced to resort to glaring at the droid intermittantly, in order to belay its attempts to wander over and strike up a conversation with the only other occupant in the room that wasn't engaged in one already. This time however, he made the mistake of allowing a little too much time to ellapse after draining the last of his ale, and the droid seized the opportunity to swoop in. "I couldn't help noticing that you have completed the process of consuming your last beverage. Could I perhaps provide you with another."

"Yeah," Amos grunted dismissively, a finger and thumb wiping away some stray moisture that had crept into his beard.

The droid watched his actions critically. "It would seem that your extraneous facial growth is complicating the drinking process. Would you like me to obtain something with which you can remove it, thus eliminating the inconvenience?"

Amos' eyes narrowed into a defensive scowl. "Suggest shaving off my beard again," he muttered, voice almost feral, "And I will rip off your arms, and beat you into spare parts with them. Understand?"

The droid recoiled in an approximation of surprise. "My appologies; I did not intend to cause offense. Is there a means through which I can make ammends for my error?"

A grunt escaped Amos' throat. "You can get me my beer," he responded, "And then leave me to drink it in peace."

Fortunately, the droid seemed to get the message, and ambled away stiffly, servos whirring as he moved. Amos sighed, and slumped a little on the bar stool, allowing his eyes to roam the room just in time to catch a glimpse of the doors opening.

[Tionne Thanewulf]

Nausea. Persistent and everlasting, no matter how hard Tionne tossed and turned in the bunk bed she was assigned to; who could ever sleep after the dreams she had been having for the past twenty years whilst incarcerated in her carbonite grave? Slumber would not ensue, so the entirety of the night was spent staring into the ceiling, reminiscing and processing all that happened earlier that day. The world she knew was no longer - the Knight instead woke into a shattered galaxy, tortured by conflict and war, with the remnant of the once proud Jedi Order in hiding.

It was their pride and overconfidence that lead to this outcome in the first place; however, Tionne was never destined to be part of this scenario, this crescendo that wiped them out a quarter of a century ago. Both triumphant and sad, the Coruscanti Jedi just lay there with mind afloat. Her thoughts rushed to her Corellian student and his whereabouts, then to her friends and family - none of them could she feel in the Force. Certainly, there were palpable Force signatures nearby, but none of them were familiar. It was only in the earliest of mornings that the restless mind allowed for a dreamless nap, only to be woken by laughter in the corridor outside of the confined quarters.

Finding no point in remaining in bed, the Knight rose from the sheets and crouched down to pull her black buckle boots on. With her eyes in level with the cabinet, the redhead noted her weapon where she left it last night. The finely crafted hilt was still in good shape, the luminescent metallic cylinder still untouched by the passage of time. Without any reluctance, she scooped it up and attached it to her belt, then erected herself to full height, glancing in the mirror briefly.

Tionne had not aged a single day since she froze herself in carbonite in a desperate try to avoid fate Palpatine installed for all Jedi; her pale visage was still as fresh and wrinkle-free as it was in the time she fought in the Clone Wars. Flicking a few stray locks away from her face, the Knight headed for the door, apparently not too amused by what she saw in the mirror. Most women would rejoice, but Thanewulf was not most women. Her own youth was a logical fallacy that still needed explaining, as soon as she would get her paws on some scientific equipment. However, she needed a drink first.

It was rather easy to find a bar aboard any ship; it was the place all officers gravitated to exercise social skill. The Coruscanti merely followed the chatter to a large metallic door that opened with a dampened hiss, revealing a spacious chamber with a bar and tables - visibly less cramped than the rest of the ship. Lifting a lofty ginger brow, Tionne proceeded inside, heavy boots clomping against the metallic floor. After scanning the perimeter from the corner of her eye, the Knight hopped onto a stool next to a tall man, then leaned over to put her elbows on the counter. Her long ginger hair fell over her back and shoulders, its density almost completely covering her upper body, while curly ends dangled from the side.

''Beer. And a shot of whiskey.'' the woman commanded, eyeing the serving droid that diligently wiped a glass to perfection.
''Right away, Master Thanewulf.'' it responded, reaching out for a mug.
''Gossip surely travels fast around here... Master Thanewulf.'' the Knight said to herself, mimicking the metallic voice of the droid in the last part. It seemed as if everybody had been informed of her presence here.

[Amos Iakona]

Spinning the replenished beer glass in his fingers, tips slicked with condensation, Amos cast a sidelong glance at the woman who'd chosen to seat herself in proximity. Master Thanewulf? He felt an eyebrow quirk, and diverted his attention away as he fought down a sigh. His recent discovery about his own Force potential - along with other unexpected revelations about himself, and his family - had left him unsettled; he'd hoped that his visit to the bar would provide at least a brief escape from having to contemplate such things. Apparently not.

Even so, the new arrival did provide an opportunity that might not otherwise have presented. Knowing that he had the potential to manipulate the Force was one thing; but what did one do with that knowledge? He hadn't spoken of it to anyone, not sure how to slide such a thing into a conversation. If he did decide to try and pursue it further, what did he do? Who did he talk to?

With a reluctant grimace, he realised that he'd need to talk about it to someone; a stranger in a bar seemed as good a start as any.

Turning to the woman beside him, he groped around inside his head for an elloquent means of striking up a conversation. Frowning, and finding nothing, his mouth threw out the first thing that came to mine. "Uh, hi."

[Tionne Thanewulf]

The coldness of the ale felt so good against the skin of her palms. Tionne gripped the mug firmly with her left hand, while the short glass containing the whiskey was in her right; she drew them closer to herself, eyes feasting on the amber liquids. Having hibernated for such a long time made her appreciate any sensation she could feel now as valuable, as the Knight's dreams were only filled with ones which were nothing more than fabrications of another's mind. The tips of her fingers grazed the chilly surface, flicking away a few droplets that condensed on the glass. Swinging her wrist, the Coruscanti brought the rim of the mug to her mouth, then skewed her gaze sideways to note an pitiful attempt of communication. After all, she was in a bar - what else could she expect? Aeons could pass and men would never change.

''Greetings.'' the redhead voice formally, then drew in a large gulp worthy of a man rather than a woman, almost emptying her glass. When it was set on the table once again, the Knight turned towards the burly male sitting next to her, barely fighting off the urge to wallow in her customary sarcasm.
''Would you like more, Master Thanewulf?'' the droid inquired once again, leaning in over the counter. Tionne's head turned sharply, gaze piercing the metallic bartender.
''Stop calling me Master. I'm not a Master. I'm a Knight.'' the woman answered in distress, leaving the droid speechless for a few moments. Nevertheless, it filled the glass to the brim once again and made itself scarce; Tionne grunted and downed the whiskey to wash away the frustration.

[Amos Iakona]

If further confirmation had been required, her last statement would have provided it: Amos found himself seated beside a Jedi Knight. Ordinarily, that would have seemed surreal, but somewhere between discovering that his father was secretly a Mandalorian, and having his body briefly borrowed by the spirit of the Jedi uncle he never knew he had, 'normal' had taken on a strange new meaning for him.

Even so, the notion of speaking to one of the almost mythical Jedi filled him with nervous reverance. What were you meant to say? How were you meant to address them? What if she thought speaking to him was beneath her, or something like that? Weren't the Jedi meant to have been the noble protectors of the Galactic Republic, back before the Clone Wars?

He scrutinised her casually with his eyes, trying to glean what information he could from her body language. It wasn't a particularly easy task, namely because said body was somewhat attractive; more than somewhat, in fact. She looked about his age, which probably meant that she was just a kid when the Jedi Order died out: maybe she wouldn't have that same uptight attitude that he'd witnessed in the last couple of Jedi he encountered.

He realised suddenly that, as his mind had wandered, he'd been staring. Collecting himself, he flashed a slight hint of a sheepish smile. "I'm Amos. Amos Iakona." He grabbed at his beer, mind struggling for more to say, straining with feeble muscles against the weight of the conversation to try and get it moving. "So; guess you're a Jedi, huh?"

[Tionne Thanewulf]

''Tionne Thanewulf.'' the ginger-haired female replied casually, giving the feral-looking man nothing more than a fleeting look. Slight discomfort brushed up her spine when his eyes lingered more than what was considered polite; the Knight sulked, hiding her tender physique behind the gleaming orange tapestry that was her waist-long hair. Suddenly, she missed her customary Jedi robes and the layers of fabric that could be put between her skin and the outside world. However, this was not the time to wear distinct Jedi markings; she had fallen out of the habit of wearing them whilst serving as Jedi Watchman in the Clone Wars. Still, her own appearance often made it hard for her to completely blend in.

''I used to be. I don't know if I am one now. All seems out of place, hardly resembling the Order...and the world I knew.'' she stated, melancholy thriving in her tone. Her stone-coloured irises grew more gloomy as she absentmindedly reached for her glass.

''The Order is no longer - and its remnant now loiters in space. Perhaps it is best if the Masters of the Old did not survive to see this...for all they could do is weep on their friend's unmarked graves...'' she finalized poetically, her hand naturally reaching down into her pocket, searching for her pipe. But there was nothing there - but a reflexive habit - a remnant of another time.

[Amos Iakona]

Amos' eyebrows twitched briefly, longing to dive into a frown of confusion, but prevented by force of will. Initially, the apparent inconsistancy hadn't triggered in his mind; it took a moment or two of contemplating her words before it registered. It seemed illogical - impossible - for someone who looked to be the same age as him to have served in any kind of capacity during the Clone Wars: surely she must have been a mere infant?

Still, to so bluntly ask for clarification hardly seemed respectful to her closing thought; the image she painted was one of sadness and pain. Amos searched his mind for a comparison, drawing on the recent death of his mother, and the other collegues and friends that he had lost over the years, but he knew it did it scant justice.

He softened his tone, trying to sound respectful to the loss that he simply couldn't comprehend. "What happened? I mean, with the Jedi, and stuff. I grew up under the heel of Imperial propoganda, and you have to wade through a swamp of it before you get to any facts, if they're even there." He hesitated, not sure if his questions would strike a nerve. "How'd you guys go from being the heroes of the Republic to the enemies of the Empire?"

[Tionne Thanewulf]

The Knight peered into her glass before replying, letting a few precious,silent moments pass before even considering answering him. Common folk always exhibited a certain amount of curiosity when it came to the Jedi and their way of life; through aeons they served as guardians of the galaxy, many myths and legends woven out of their adventures. For those who lived by the Code it was hardly a romantic life; instead - an existence without attachment, possession or passion. Altruism in its purest form, a formidable path to walk, even more challenging not to lead oneself astray. Tionne pressed her fleshy lips against the rim of the mug and suckled another gulp in, letting the icy liquid percolate down her throat.

''I don't know what happened exactly. I was frozen in carbonite for over a quarter of a century.'' the redhead began to explain, leaning on the counter with her elbow. That particular notion - no matter how insanely sounding - was not entirely true. The Coruscanti Jedi immersed herself and her apprentice in carbonite after Order 66 had taken its toll, when a few scattered Jedi were still hiding in the far reaches of the galaxy. Reluctant to share any more information, Tionne steered the conversation away into a more casual direction. This was not the time nor the place for such a debate.

''Turns out I am old enough to be your mother. Looking good for a 52 year old, eh?'' she asked in rhetoric, a joking smile augmenting the quirk of her ginger brow. Resorting to flirting just to keep the conversation light was not her style, but even that was better than actually debriefing this man on things he would not be able to comprehend.

[Amos Iakona]

Amos allowed a breath of a silent laugh to escape him, a flash of a closed-mouth fired in her direction. He averted his gaze quickly though, studying the patterns the residual foam was forming atop his ale. He could tell she was being evasive, but he understood that; empathised with that. If someone he'd never met had tried to probe - even casually - into his own shadowed past, he would have been equally reluctant to speak.

No; his eyes were not deflected by her gental rebuttal of his query, but rather by her mention of his mother. A raw nerve tugged in his mind; his eyes had been turned away to prevent her from seeing the cascade of emotions dancing behind them.

He frowned, battling his usual emotional decorum back into place, nailing up crude barriers like planks across an abandoned window. Letting his eyes climb back towards her again - a stray thought contemplated just how inadequate looking good was as a description - he summoned a lopsided smile as he brought the beer to his lips, letting it wash over his tongue and moisten the throat that had constricted over thoughts of his mother.

As the drink was set down again, he allowed the smile to flourish a little more. "I should warn you," he countered, with a wry twitch of his brows, "I've always had a certain fascination with older women."

[Tionne Thanewulf]

''I know nothing of fascination with the opposite gender, my friend.'' she replied instantly, diluting her former mannerism to hide behind the sacred vowel of celibacy all Jedi promised to take. Having felt the slightest of twitches within his being, the Knight shifted in her chair, leaning in closer for more privacy. Equipped with empathy, Tionne felt how her words struck a nerve with him, regardless to how he tried to obscure her senses with his diligent mental blockade. Such strong emotions were hard to hide from somebody so receptive to the torment of others. However, there was something else that dawdled between them, a palpable texture, crude, unrefined. But the patchwork was more than familiar. The Knight smiled in reassurance. He needed that the most.

''The true question is - would you have ever greeted me if you knew my true age? Even more - would you have greeted me if I did look like my true age? You say you find older women interesting, but you first assumed I must be your own age. That is...a contradiction. Fooled I am not, my friend.'' the redhead concluded prudently, constructing a logical fallacy out of his own words. Her eyes narrowed, but her smile remained.
''Waste not my time, Amos. And don't underestimate me. Now, speak.''

[Amos Iakona]

Amos wasn't a stupid man; at least, not one lacking in intelligence. Granted, he'd never had the cerebral acuity to pursue one of the more intellectual careers that his mother might perhaps have hoped for: he didn't have the smarts to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or anything like that, but he wasn't a brainless ape either. Even so, the tirade of logic sent in his direction by the Jedi had him confused, puzzled, and somewhat distracted by the mental images his mind had inferred when she mentioned a lack of fascination with the opposite gender.

Wrestling the mostly naked imaginary Twi'lek dancers out of his mind before they disrobed Tionne into a similar state of dress, he dumped his brows into a heavy frown as he attempted to decode her words. Her questions he considered each in turn; his mind's eye tried to conjure up images of how she might perhaps have appeared if she was her supposed real age, but came up with nothing useful.

His fingers massaged at the skin on his forehead in paranoia over a potential impending headache. His mind snagged on something: some observation or insight that he could cast back in his direction. His hand fell away, a pair of fingers casually pointing in her direction. "You're basing that on a potentially flawed leap of logic," he countered, a little pride sparking in his mind at being able to fight back on somewhere vaguely resembling her intellectual level. "You assume that my talking to you is a direct result of your apparent age and appearence, and not -" He waved a hand vaguely. "I could just be talking to you so that the damned droid percieves me as busy, and doesn't wander over to try and strike up a conversation again." He shrugged, enthusiasm that he was making a decent point spurring his words on. "I could be lonely after the recent loss of a loved one, and am hoping to talk with someone who is actually capable of experiencing and processing the concepts of emotion. Or maybe I just want to talk to the only other Jedi in the room."

His eyes widened, almost imperceptably at his blundered choice of words. "Only Jedi, I mean. Not other. Because you are. And I'm -"

He sighed, slumping down a little further in his chair, fingers idly toying with his ale as he stared at the vessel which contained it, eyes glazing over. Deflation swept through him; his body felt heavy and numb. "If I'm honest," he muttered, softly. "I'm not even sure what I am."

[Tionne Thanewulf]

Tionne's features softened as she witnessed him trying to untangle himself from the mental web she pushed him in so eagerly. A part of her enjoyed watching people perplexed with produce of her deduction and induction alike, but she was nevertheless glad to see him process and digest, analyse and then ultimately, provide a defensive argument. Indeed, Amos could have been right - people and their actions could be hardly explained by a sequence of logical connectors and premises. It was often that Tionne had to push away the analytical mechanism that so flawlessly ticked inside her cranium and resort to the guttural instinct that was the Force.

It was a will she learned how to follow over the years, silencing her being to hear its inaudible whisper. Gently nudged in his direction before Amos even set his eyes upon her, the Knight knew the whatever reason he came up with regarding how this conversation was started was now insignificant. They were talking.

''You are not a Jedi.'' the redhead stated, picking up on his incriminating words. His signature gained tangibility with every passing second, the Knight idly letting her own Force aura brush past his to induce a subtle calming sensation.
''But you can be. It is a choice for you to make. Depends what you want from life. Stakes are high, but so is the prize.'' she concluded, refreshing herself with yet another sip of her ale.

[Amos Iakona]

"I don't -"

He struggled, searching his mind for the words he needed to articulate his thoughts. They were hard for him to organise so that he would understand them himself, let alone speak them aloud. With information so difficult to obtain, everything that anyone knew about the Jedi really came from myths and rumours. They were painted as noble protectors; judges and mediators. They were always destined for great things, and were acredited with truly legendary acts.

Then there was Amos. Sure, he had a streak of noble in him, but there was nothing grand there: nothing worthy of greatness or renown. When he'd volunteered on Naboo, and later when they'd drafted him into the Stormtrooper Corps, his morals had been lax; his eyes closed to the truth that many of the people he'd come to serve with in the Rebellion had seen long before he. In fact, he was here by chance: had events not conspired the way they had, he could still be the Empire's pawn; might still be on the wrong side of that proverbial coin.

He was not a Jedi; that much was certain. But despite her assertions, he wasn't sure he could be, either. He finally found his voice again. "I'm not sure how to make that choice," he admitted, brow still deeply furrowed. "I don't know what it means to be a Jedi; how can I choose a path when it is indistinguishable to me from everything that surrounds it?"

[Tionne Thanewulf]

The Knight glanced sideways, briefly regarding other occupants of the room. Officers, former smugglers and enlightened criminals, ex-bounty hunters and con-artist on the run from the Empire - a diverse amalgam of species and personae, some more some less dedicated to the cause. Jedi were far too scarce to be the moral backbone of resistance; the events in the past quarter of a century had deeply changed those who managed to survive.

Without the ethical compass of The High Council, without strict adhesion to codification, the Jedi dissipated their integrity and unity, making it difficult to make some sense out of the chaos that ensued. Tionne had yet to attempt to wiggle her way through anarchy she woke herself into, so the Knight was hardly qualified to give a speech on the light at the end of the tunnel.

''To be a Jedi means to put the needs of others in front of your own needs. To denounce all property, possession and passion. And execute the will of the Force, whatever it may be.'' the redhead lectured, waving her hand suggestively before her. Her steel irises sought his and soon enough her tender palm fell to his shoulder, administering a gentle squeeze; a rather sharp reversal in her mannerism that transformed from purely stoic to comfortingly empathic.

''You need to quiet your mind...And heart. Then you will hear the call, trust me.'' Tionne whispered, then drew her hand back and scooped the glass from the counter, downing her ale. Wordlessly, she nudged her head forwards and the mug was refilled. Having not tasted anything for twenty five years even made this bantha piss taste good.

[Amos Iakona]

Quiet my mind? There was a long list of people who, if present, would have twisted that into a scathing insult. Something about there being so little going on inside Amos' head, most likely, that you could hear an echo, or a pin drop, or something cliché like that. He was relieved to know that he would be spared that, though supposed that if his subconscious had been able to conjure that criticism all on his own, said individuals were mostly obselete anyway.

He allowed his eyes to close; drew in a gentle breath as he searched for focus, but the hands that shoved the thoughts aside from his mind had their fingers spread, and stray concepts floated past his consciousness. The concept of letting himself effectively become a slave to a Force he couldn't understand nor comprehend filled him with concern; the chilling extension of that thought drew the parallel between that and his own recent experiences on Ord Ithil. A wave of those memories washed over him, cascading through his thoughts and flooding his consciousness.

His eyes flickered open, and he sighed. "Quiet my mind," he repeated, with resignation. "That isn't as easy as it sounds."

[Tionne Thanewulf]

''Oh, I know.'' Tionne retorted softly, sparing him a meek, comforting glance. Having watched Klo-Ude struggle past all of his mental baggage made her especially understanding towards any emotional issues people were having. Battling one's inner demons was the most important war that needed winning; without triumph there would be no inner stability that was the base of every dedicated Jedi. Every hopeful had to deal with it, so did Tionne, but to a far lesser extent than some other members of the Order. However, mistrust bordering paranoia was something the Coruscanti never fully conquered over.

''I've spent my entire life drilling myself to be able to be at peace. And still I am enraged when I cannot find the other sock or I open a soda which somebody had conveniently shaken before. Sometimes it is enough to strive, sometimes little suffices for one to be able to hear.'' the redhead offered, swirling the remnant of the whiskey in the other glass before downing it. The potent aroma of the spirit burned her throat, consequently inducing a mild cough that cleared her larynx.
''We are all human in the end.'' she concluded in a reassuring tone, eyeing the droid that pretended not to be listening in.
''Well, almost all of us.'' Tionne added, reverting her gaze to Amos, a mild smile curbing her pale cheeks up.

[Amos Iakona]

Amos felt a wave of calm wash over him. He wasn't sure if it was some trick of the Force that she was conjuring on him, or just the effect of her words of comfort, and her smile. It didn't seem to matter, particularly: one of those rare situations where the ends seemed to justify the means.

He allowed himself pause to contemplate his circumstance. A waver of doubt sparked in his mind as he realised that someone who had spent their whole life thus far immersed in the teachings of the Jedi might still struggle to live up to their teachings and ideals; how could someone like he, approaching the Force at such a late stage, ever hope to obtain even a fraction of what she had, before he was too old to put it to any kind of use?

He pondered his thoughts, and her words. His concerns were no doubt the sort of passions he needed to unleash; she'd probably say something about everyone having their own pace, and their own path, if he came to voice them. This sort of meditative, self-realisation didn't sound like the thing you could battle your way to achieving.

He wrinkled his nose. "Looks like I have a lot to learn," he mused, casting his eyes around him, imagining his way past the bulkheads and hull plates to witness the swarm of ships around them, and the myriad Jedi lurking within. He cast her a lopsided hint of smile. "But I suppose this is the right place to be if I want that to happen."

[Tionne Thanewulf]

There was reluctance to be felt within the tall man; doubt flushed through his being, leaving a tremor in the Force. It seemed as if he was giving up even before he started, even before he took the first step towards a brighter, more meaningful future. As a mentor, Thanewulf could never allow such a thing to take place.

''You will not learn anything you do not already know. There is no right and wrong. The Force is one - death and life - parts of one and the same cycle. To know the Force is to look within oneself - feel, sense, comprehend, understand, acknowledge. Fragile balance is what a Jedi should preserve.'' she recited earnestly, gazing deeply into Amos' hazel eyes. Her own eyes mirrored the wisdom of ages, diligently gathered through observation in more and less turbulent times alike, her own judgement unimpaired by disturbances that so often clouded the judgement of other Jedi, leaving them inapt to concentrate on the moment. Future was always uncertain, destiny was always a matter of choice.

''Let that be your first lesson, Amos. First of many to come.'' the redhead concluded solemnly, pushing both empty glasses away from herself. The droid wanted to refill them, but the Coruscanti declined with a smile.
''If I have any more of this, I will actually start believing all I am saying, heh.'' she added wittingly, nudging her companion under his ribs lightly.

[Amos Iakona]

Amos let out a note of a laugh. "I guess there aren't any Jedi tricks to counter the effects of alcohol, then," he teased, flashing a quirk of eyebrow as he emptied a little more of his own glass.

The expression faltered a little as he considered her latest revelation; self-exploration, and getting to know and understand himself had always sounded pretentious and pointless, and he had avoided any mention of it like a plague. But when she said the words, they took on new meaning; new context. Perhaps he simply trusted that she, a Jedi, had wisdom to impart that was worth paying attention to. Or maybe it was just the prospect of his soul-searching actually having something to yield.

He looked around the sparsely populated room, and wondered how many of them might unknowingly harbour the same potential as he. Even thinking that seemed strange to him; the notion that something had been lurking inside him, hidden for so long. While not exactly an introspective person, it seemed odd that an entire aspect of himself could be so completely unknown to him. It was like awaking to voices telling you that you were an artist, and yet you had never in your life picked up a brush. You could never know if their words were truth or not, unless you settled down at your canvas and had faith in what would transpire.

His fingers scratched thoughtfully at his beard. "So how do I -?" He frowned, allowing his voice to trail off. "Is there somewhere I need to go to, you know -" He winced, a little disappointed in how clunky and inelloquent his words continued to be. "- find someone to train me? Like, a Jedi school on one of the big ships or something?"

[Tionne Thanewulf]

The Knight scratched her head. With Jedi in such small numbers, there were hardly enough mentors to go around. So much had changed since the days of the Old Republic; perhaps the Jedi and the Order needed redefining, with criticals flaws and mistakes corrected to prevent history from repeating itself. Somewhat puzzled, Tionne knew not what answer to offer.

''I take it's different now than it was in the time when I was a Knight. Back in the day, students were picked out by Masters. Most prospective ones were assigned to most distinguished Jedi Knights and Masters, while all others faced the Reassignment Council and were sent off to different branches of the Order to serve - ExplorationCorps, AgriCorps... My own student was almost sent to help grow crops before I picked him out. He was a difficult nut to crack, but I believe he grew up to be a formidable Jedi. One of the most gifted Mind Tricksters the Order ever saw...'' Tionne trailed off into a feeble sigh. The Corellian was still out there, frozen and waiting, with no means to be found. The Coruscanti had no other choice but to trust the Force and its mysterious ways to bring her apprentice back to her. In the meanwhile, why not make oneself useful?

''Since these are not those times, I should give you a choice. I can train you, if you wish. But that will mean we would spend an awfully lot of time together. You will curse me, hate me, you will want to hit me. But in the end, you will be a Jedi.'' the Knight concluded, then crossed her arms over her chest.
''You have been warned, Amos Iakona.''

[Amos Iakona]

Her offer came unexpected; Amos' mind was still caught up within what she had uttered concerning her last student. He sensed a bittersweet mix of pride and sorrow in her words, and his heart ached a little in sympathy. Perhaps a shred of jealousy sparked inside him as well; for pride in him, in any form, had been somewhat lacking over the course of Amos' life, even with himself as the source. He had followed in his father's footsteps, but had never managed to achieve his strict and stoic approval; at least, not in a way that had ever been expressed. And his mother had never really agreed with his choice to enter service with the Security Forces back on Naboo; her concerns had seem vindicated after he was drafted by the Empire. He'd found himself on the wrong side of trainers and superiors ever since; and after so many years wandering in recent times, his confidence in himself had deminished, blasted away by supernova to leave a miniscule glowing dwarf behind.

Hearing the pride in her voice triggered resolve in his mind, and in his heart. Regardless of what else transpired, he knew that he wanted to earn that favour for himself; craved to feel the sensation. A fleeting thought wondered if it was an aspiration worthy of a Jedi, or was it perhaps too selfish a goal? And yet, every student being trained in the ways of the Jedi must have sought such approval from their peers: perhaps they dressed it up as a quest to conform with the ideals of the Order, or to earn a promotion beyond their apprentice state, but still. All desired approval in some form. There may not be a Jedi Order left for him to earn status within; but status in the eyes of this one Jedi would be enough for him.

His brows unknotted from the frown that had formed as his mind had pondered, and he turned his eyes towards hers, gratitude mixed with determination swimming in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice lost much of the animal growl it usually posessed; softened almost to the point of reverence. "I would be honoured to become your student."

[Tionne Thanewulf]

''Good, good.'' the Knight retorted, waving her hand about, palm landing onto his shoulder to pat it in an almost patronizing manner. It was a gesture of appreciation, one Amos will need to get used to. He hardly had the chance to experience the sarcastic, cynic Tionne; surely, there would be many opportunities in the future, now that he agreed to her tutelage. She then hopped off the barstool, tossing a few credit chips to the protocol droid.

''I hope you have a ship, Amos. I'm running low on clean underwear here.'' she said in jest, augmenting her roguish facial expression with a wink.
''And girls are all about underwear.'' With that being said, a new chapter in Amos' life began.