"Actually, this was just the best place for getting a clean signal to the temple..."
Yulie chuckled, mostly at herself for being so convinced that there was some hidden meaning to her evaluation taking place on Kashyyyk, that the Order had devised the meeting spot as a psychological test, or carefully selected for symbolism’s sake. In truth, she had spent the morning working herself up for no reason, and probably to greater effect than the Order would have intended even if her suspicions were well-founded. However, she also found it amusing they went all this way for something so simple she otherwise never would have guessed.
“I’m a mechanic, I can boost a signal for you, Izzz…!” Her voice trailed off, her amusement flatlining. She remembered that the Vratix once said that she did not have to use the proper honorific of ‘Master’, but the reason was because Yulie was not even a Jedi at the time. It felt inappropriate to simply refer to the giant insect by name. “I mean….Mmmaster Izel.”
Her tone laid bare the discomfort of using that term, but this particular master didn’t exploit the superiority of its station. The word was the same, but the connection that it implied was quite different. Izel did not even ask to be called it, let alone demand it. Using that honorific was a choice. Being able to choose it meant that she was not a slave. However, given the discomfort and the persistent belief that the Jedi shouldn’t use it at all, she still hoped that there was an acceptable alternative to use for the other Jedi Masters.
Working through this discomfort distracted her enough to not think about why she hadn’t been asked to simply boost a signal through the Captain’s new ship. The Jedi’s communications network would have had layers of security features to protect the nerve center of the Order’s highest circle of command, and Yulie had no way to account for them so long as the Jedi kept her on a most cautious need-to-know basis. There was a great deal more to the effort than merely broadcasting an encrypted message through the void.
“Well, you saw how much I was able straighten up the Gray Phoenix. I think I can promise diligence.” Of all the criticisms Yulie believed herself deserving, being a slacker wasn’t one of them. “And I do need new clothes.” Yulie mused. What little she possessed had been put through some serious punishment since leaving the spice den. Plus, Isen preferred brunettes. “And maybe some stuff for my hair, if they have anything like that.” She added, turning the palest shade of purple. Wookiees use hair stuff, right? You’d think with all that hair they’d have more than anybody. Or maybe they have so much hair that they’ve given up on those products completely.
The treetop village was something to behold. She had only seen one at a great distance, and the sense of scale was lost to a childish mind. Up close, it was almost as impressive as the Venator in the ambition of the city planning, and far more wondrous one so mechanically-minded. To construct something so grand with only wood and rope challenged what she knew of engineering. Primitive constructs tended to be smaller, relying on the ground and natural formations for support. The Wookiees have certainly surpassed those limitations, suspending massive wooden structures all the way to the upper reaches of the canopy. It didn’t seem possible. No rivets! No welding! How did it even hold itself together?
Not one to let a learning opportunity to pass, Izel encouraged Yulie to expand her sensory abilities. Yulie nodded. Kashyyyk already felt different. The oxygen-rich atmosphere was rejuvenating, though hardly responsible for the wild growth that had overrun the planet. The Force had more presence here, and that made it easier to sense. Feeling specific interactions was a different challenge, though. With the world’s heartbeat so strong, everything melded together like it was one single life form. She tried to think of a solution while she wandered through the market.
There was a great deal of commerce up here, far more than she had anticipated. The number of choices were overwhelming, so Yulie found her comfort zone and refused to budge, limiting her search to items as closely identical as possible to what she already had. She was looking closely at a red arm sock that fastened at the bicep when an idea struck her: she should look for something that makes it easier to find the duality she needed to properly meditate.
Red. The favorite colour of the Nightsisters. Symbolizes where I’m going. Black could symbolize my darkness, white would represent what I’m trying to learn. She tried on the arm sock and looked at her palm, pleased with how easily it concealed her markings. No! I should leave the Mark exposed, wear the sock on the opposite arm. If I place both hands together, or use them to hold a lightsaber, captivity and freedom will find balance in equal measure.
She removed the sock and pulled it up to the bicep of her other arm and then pressed her palms together like she was praying. Satisfied, she asked the Wookiee merchant if the socks are sold as a pair or individually. Although she didn’t speak their language, their emotions were so unfiltered she could judge their intent fairly reliably and make some conversation, even if much of it flew past her. Instead of answering the question, it made a wailing noise and grabbed her arm, twisting it to better look at her Mark.
“Ah! Okay! I don’t bend like that!” Yulie blurted out as she half-sprawled upon the counter.
“WRRRAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUURRRUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRR!!!!”
It sounded wounded, like it found a helpless, dying animal, and wouldn’t be able to save it. He’s seen tattoos like that before, Yulie thought, and it brings him shame.
“I was on the first rotation to remove a Destroyer from a waterfall. That was years ago. May I…have my arm back?” The Wookiee released its grip with a sad growl and it stared at the ground, the sadness becoming anger. It was that internal anger that Yulie knew quite well. “Were you a worker, too?” Yulie asked as she cradled her elbow, rubbing the soreness out of it.
“RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA---”
“Not a worker! Not a worker!” Yulie raised her hands in a panicked attempt to calm it. “A patrol.” It made a pitiful throaty noise. “You saw the workers, the tattoos, and you didn’t stop it.” The Wookiee was silent. “It wasn’t something you could have stopped. The ship was poisoning the water and the New Republic allowed us to remove it. If you turned us away…so many of you would have gotten sick. And if you attacked the guards, the signal beacon might have been damaged. The bombs in our necks weren’t activated by a signal, the countdown was reset by the signal. Destroying the beacon would have killed all the workers. It was an impossible situation, and I don’t blame you. No one does.”
The Wookiee looked like it felt better and made some grumbling noises that Yulie couldn’t discern. She looked at it with blank confusion as it made the same noises again, only louder. She didn’t clue in until it put the second arm sock in her hand and repeated itself while holding her tight with shaggy hands.
“Oh! You’re giving me these!” The Wookiee nodded and stepped back. “Thank you. We’re, uh, even.”
The Wookiee. Yulie didn’t recognize the creature, but the two of them were both affected by that salvage job all those years ago. This connection made the furry giant stand clearer in her mind, as well as something distant, somewhere well over the horizon. The selfsame landmark of a shared experience. This gave texture to the ebb and flow of the Force between them and that location, drawing contrast with other people nearby.
She was starting to feel it. Really feel it. Putting her hands together, Yulie united her symbols of captivity and freedom. Holding her newfound awareness in her mind, she reached out and was able to identify Izel among all the people in the treetop village.
I'm doing it! I can't believe I'm actually doing it!
@Reyn
Yulie chuckled, mostly at herself for being so convinced that there was some hidden meaning to her evaluation taking place on Kashyyyk, that the Order had devised the meeting spot as a psychological test, or carefully selected for symbolism’s sake. In truth, she had spent the morning working herself up for no reason, and probably to greater effect than the Order would have intended even if her suspicions were well-founded. However, she also found it amusing they went all this way for something so simple she otherwise never would have guessed.
“I’m a mechanic, I can boost a signal for you, Izzz…!” Her voice trailed off, her amusement flatlining. She remembered that the Vratix once said that she did not have to use the proper honorific of ‘Master’, but the reason was because Yulie was not even a Jedi at the time. It felt inappropriate to simply refer to the giant insect by name. “I mean….Mmmaster Izel.”
Her tone laid bare the discomfort of using that term, but this particular master didn’t exploit the superiority of its station. The word was the same, but the connection that it implied was quite different. Izel did not even ask to be called it, let alone demand it. Using that honorific was a choice. Being able to choose it meant that she was not a slave. However, given the discomfort and the persistent belief that the Jedi shouldn’t use it at all, she still hoped that there was an acceptable alternative to use for the other Jedi Masters.
Working through this discomfort distracted her enough to not think about why she hadn’t been asked to simply boost a signal through the Captain’s new ship. The Jedi’s communications network would have had layers of security features to protect the nerve center of the Order’s highest circle of command, and Yulie had no way to account for them so long as the Jedi kept her on a most cautious need-to-know basis. There was a great deal more to the effort than merely broadcasting an encrypted message through the void.
“Well, you saw how much I was able straighten up the Gray Phoenix. I think I can promise diligence.” Of all the criticisms Yulie believed herself deserving, being a slacker wasn’t one of them. “And I do need new clothes.” Yulie mused. What little she possessed had been put through some serious punishment since leaving the spice den. Plus, Isen preferred brunettes. “And maybe some stuff for my hair, if they have anything like that.” She added, turning the palest shade of purple. Wookiees use hair stuff, right? You’d think with all that hair they’d have more than anybody. Or maybe they have so much hair that they’ve given up on those products completely.
The treetop village was something to behold. She had only seen one at a great distance, and the sense of scale was lost to a childish mind. Up close, it was almost as impressive as the Venator in the ambition of the city planning, and far more wondrous one so mechanically-minded. To construct something so grand with only wood and rope challenged what she knew of engineering. Primitive constructs tended to be smaller, relying on the ground and natural formations for support. The Wookiees have certainly surpassed those limitations, suspending massive wooden structures all the way to the upper reaches of the canopy. It didn’t seem possible. No rivets! No welding! How did it even hold itself together?
Not one to let a learning opportunity to pass, Izel encouraged Yulie to expand her sensory abilities. Yulie nodded. Kashyyyk already felt different. The oxygen-rich atmosphere was rejuvenating, though hardly responsible for the wild growth that had overrun the planet. The Force had more presence here, and that made it easier to sense. Feeling specific interactions was a different challenge, though. With the world’s heartbeat so strong, everything melded together like it was one single life form. She tried to think of a solution while she wandered through the market.
There was a great deal of commerce up here, far more than she had anticipated. The number of choices were overwhelming, so Yulie found her comfort zone and refused to budge, limiting her search to items as closely identical as possible to what she already had. She was looking closely at a red arm sock that fastened at the bicep when an idea struck her: she should look for something that makes it easier to find the duality she needed to properly meditate.
Red. The favorite colour of the Nightsisters. Symbolizes where I’m going. Black could symbolize my darkness, white would represent what I’m trying to learn. She tried on the arm sock and looked at her palm, pleased with how easily it concealed her markings. No! I should leave the Mark exposed, wear the sock on the opposite arm. If I place both hands together, or use them to hold a lightsaber, captivity and freedom will find balance in equal measure.
She removed the sock and pulled it up to the bicep of her other arm and then pressed her palms together like she was praying. Satisfied, she asked the Wookiee merchant if the socks are sold as a pair or individually. Although she didn’t speak their language, their emotions were so unfiltered she could judge their intent fairly reliably and make some conversation, even if much of it flew past her. Instead of answering the question, it made a wailing noise and grabbed her arm, twisting it to better look at her Mark.
“Ah! Okay! I don’t bend like that!” Yulie blurted out as she half-sprawled upon the counter.
“WRRRAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUURRRUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRR!!!!”
It sounded wounded, like it found a helpless, dying animal, and wouldn’t be able to save it. He’s seen tattoos like that before, Yulie thought, and it brings him shame.
“I was on the first rotation to remove a Destroyer from a waterfall. That was years ago. May I…have my arm back?” The Wookiee released its grip with a sad growl and it stared at the ground, the sadness becoming anger. It was that internal anger that Yulie knew quite well. “Were you a worker, too?” Yulie asked as she cradled her elbow, rubbing the soreness out of it.
“RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA---”
“Not a worker! Not a worker!” Yulie raised her hands in a panicked attempt to calm it. “A patrol.” It made a pitiful throaty noise. “You saw the workers, the tattoos, and you didn’t stop it.” The Wookiee was silent. “It wasn’t something you could have stopped. The ship was poisoning the water and the New Republic allowed us to remove it. If you turned us away…so many of you would have gotten sick. And if you attacked the guards, the signal beacon might have been damaged. The bombs in our necks weren’t activated by a signal, the countdown was reset by the signal. Destroying the beacon would have killed all the workers. It was an impossible situation, and I don’t blame you. No one does.”
The Wookiee looked like it felt better and made some grumbling noises that Yulie couldn’t discern. She looked at it with blank confusion as it made the same noises again, only louder. She didn’t clue in until it put the second arm sock in her hand and repeated itself while holding her tight with shaggy hands.
“Oh! You’re giving me these!” The Wookiee nodded and stepped back. “Thank you. We’re, uh, even.”
The Wookiee. Yulie didn’t recognize the creature, but the two of them were both affected by that salvage job all those years ago. This connection made the furry giant stand clearer in her mind, as well as something distant, somewhere well over the horizon. The selfsame landmark of a shared experience. This gave texture to the ebb and flow of the Force between them and that location, drawing contrast with other people nearby.
She was starting to feel it. Really feel it. Putting her hands together, Yulie united her symbols of captivity and freedom. Holding her newfound awareness in her mind, she reached out and was able to identify Izel among all the people in the treetop village.
I'm doing it! I can't believe I'm actually doing it!
@Reyn
