Post by sanjuro on Jan 18, 2020 1:48:09 GMT -5
A Jedi was not supposed to hold attachments to their former life, once they had given themselves wholly to the Order. Master Echuu No-Ainu had been born on Obroa-skai, where his mother had been an archivist. Though he had only spent five years of his life there—hardly long enough to form any memories, the historian in him had been drawn there more times than he wished to admit. In particular, the mountains that overlooked the Celebratus Archive. The Jedi Master hoped on this venture to bring back some yet-uncatalogued information to the Temple back on Coruscant, but in truth that had been little more than an excuse to peruse the libraries and engage in something of a sabbatical from his tenured position as an instructor at the Academy. Even a Jedi Master could grow weary of the room of a thousand fountains. Mostly, however, the endless durasteel and ferrocrete skycrapers that marred the Galactic capitol proved tiresome on his soul.
The journey out to Obroa-skai had been uneventful, though Echuu was still somewhat uncomfortable in the vast expanse of space. Flying, he reasoned, was still for droids or beings born with wings. Still, he had insisted upon manual control during the flight in his Besh-77; much to the aging T3 unit’s chagrin—if a droid were capable of such things. T3-K27 had been a companion of his for many years, how many Echuu couldn’t begin to hazard a guess. The majority of which, the unit had gone without a memory wipe. Though the prickly Jedi Master grumbled outwardly with great frequency about the quirks it had seemed to acquire, he secretly enjoyed them. ”Stay with the ship, T3,” he rumbled in an even, soothing baritone at his circuit-laden companion. ”I shall comm if I need you.” The droid beeped and bronked something in the neighborhood of an affirmative, but contested for Echuu’s need of a droid to navigate the library.
Echuu dismissed the droid’s protest with a wave of his hand, which promptly came to rest about his bearded chin; fingers idly stroking the graying-red scruff as he turned to stroll away from the landing pad and into the city proper. The other hand clasped a large thermos, filled with hot tea for him to enjoy as he perused the archive in peace. Dark eyes took in the lush green that existed, filled with something of a wistful wonder as he strode at an easy gait. One had only need to give a cursory glance to him in order to deduce he was a fully-blooded member of the Jedi Order. The usual scowl that typically soured his expression had all-but given way to a sort-of half-smile. The Force was strong on this world, teeming with life of all varieties—not just that of sentient species that had turned a once-lush place to a planet full of their creations like on Coruscant. All was well with his soul.
Before long, Echuu found himself walking up the stone steps to the Archive and through the threshold. The hand that idly stroked his scruffy chin ceased long enough to pull the hood of his outer robe back, revealing the messy topknot his dark hair was tied up in, graying slightly at his temples and threatening to spread further. It was a wonder that some sort of avian hadn’t tried to form a nest in it. The Jedi Master strode past the reception desk and into the main chamber as if it weren’t his first time in the Celebratus Archive (and indeed it wasn’t). He found an empty terminal and took a seat, placing the thermos on the desk with a groan that only a Sullustan could hear. Both hands worked to remove the lid from the thermos, which doubled as a cup, and poured the piping-hot tea into it. Echuu went to work, though it was arguable that it was more play, at the holographic keypad to peruse the most recent additions to the library. Deciding on what had to be a most fascinating paper asserting a theory about a millennia-old barrier to the west of the Core Worlds being the result of Celestial technology and not a natural phenomenon, Echuu raised the steaming cup to his lips for a conservative sip and settled more in the chair.
The journey out to Obroa-skai had been uneventful, though Echuu was still somewhat uncomfortable in the vast expanse of space. Flying, he reasoned, was still for droids or beings born with wings. Still, he had insisted upon manual control during the flight in his Besh-77; much to the aging T3 unit’s chagrin—if a droid were capable of such things. T3-K27 had been a companion of his for many years, how many Echuu couldn’t begin to hazard a guess. The majority of which, the unit had gone without a memory wipe. Though the prickly Jedi Master grumbled outwardly with great frequency about the quirks it had seemed to acquire, he secretly enjoyed them. ”Stay with the ship, T3,” he rumbled in an even, soothing baritone at his circuit-laden companion. ”I shall comm if I need you.” The droid beeped and bronked something in the neighborhood of an affirmative, but contested for Echuu’s need of a droid to navigate the library.
Echuu dismissed the droid’s protest with a wave of his hand, which promptly came to rest about his bearded chin; fingers idly stroking the graying-red scruff as he turned to stroll away from the landing pad and into the city proper. The other hand clasped a large thermos, filled with hot tea for him to enjoy as he perused the archive in peace. Dark eyes took in the lush green that existed, filled with something of a wistful wonder as he strode at an easy gait. One had only need to give a cursory glance to him in order to deduce he was a fully-blooded member of the Jedi Order. The usual scowl that typically soured his expression had all-but given way to a sort-of half-smile. The Force was strong on this world, teeming with life of all varieties—not just that of sentient species that had turned a once-lush place to a planet full of their creations like on Coruscant. All was well with his soul.
Before long, Echuu found himself walking up the stone steps to the Archive and through the threshold. The hand that idly stroked his scruffy chin ceased long enough to pull the hood of his outer robe back, revealing the messy topknot his dark hair was tied up in, graying slightly at his temples and threatening to spread further. It was a wonder that some sort of avian hadn’t tried to form a nest in it. The Jedi Master strode past the reception desk and into the main chamber as if it weren’t his first time in the Celebratus Archive (and indeed it wasn’t). He found an empty terminal and took a seat, placing the thermos on the desk with a groan that only a Sullustan could hear. Both hands worked to remove the lid from the thermos, which doubled as a cup, and poured the piping-hot tea into it. Echuu went to work, though it was arguable that it was more play, at the holographic keypad to peruse the most recent additions to the library. Deciding on what had to be a most fascinating paper asserting a theory about a millennia-old barrier to the west of the Core Worlds being the result of Celestial technology and not a natural phenomenon, Echuu raised the steaming cup to his lips for a conservative sip and settled more in the chair.