Green Fields of Home

[Cleo Némain]

An excited gasp came first, drawing in the proper sort of air for what was needed next.

"Y' did??" Cleo practically squealed at the joy behind it.

Okay, so maybe it was a bit too much but lightsabers were a big deal to Jedi. They were part of who they all were. It wasn't so simple as just a weapon. They meant stuff. Colors meant stuff and making them meant stuff. Important stuff.

"Kin ah see?" The question was blurted out rapid fast before Cleo could think of any reason why that might not be such a good idea.

The reasons came right quick though and she had to force herself to settle back down from where she'd sprung up from her seat and had replaced her bottom with her knees on it's surface. All the better to kinda lean across the table but now she was backtracking, rewinding, undoing until she felt more proper again. They were at lunch after all. Not the time to be getting all rowdy and kneeling on table benches and such.

"Ah means… y'know. Af'er foodstuffs."

Cleo quickly set about making everything more upright again. The fork she'd dropped was wiped off with a spare napkin before she went back to poking at her meal with it.

"Y' know. Only iffin y' wanna. Nah gonna push for nothin'."

She knew it, though! Knew there had been something different about Mos Mos when she saw him and Cleo started taking bets on what color the blade would turn out to be. Winner got ice cream!

[Desmond Nil’vak]

The commotion at the chosen table was more than enough to give Desmond a second guess at continuing to head towards it. Not to mention it caused him to be startled enough that the two trays of food he carried became suddenly unruly. A split decision was made, if one of them were to drop - whichever it was - it would be designated at his. Better he should go without than allow his clumsiness to cause Amos to have to wait any longer.

Some quick maneuvers and an unexpected bit of aid from Ashla kept things well in hand, however. He still managed a relieved sigh as he set both trays down on the table, the one utterly deprived of anything green set before the other man.

'I am guessing you just told Cleo about your creation?" It wasn't too difficult to surmise what her outburst had been about. The fact the girl didn't entirely speak at respectable indoor levels meant he - and probably quite a lot of others - had overheard her inquiries that produced the answer she had made a fuss over.

Desmond glanced down at the plate of sustenance in front of him. It was far better fare than he had received among the Brotherhood, yet it still somehow managed to appear so bleak and unappetizing. He flinched slightly as he chided himself for his ungrateful assessment of the meal and quickly took a bite; it was delightfully better tasting than looking.

"I know a somewhat secluded place you two can go when we are finished here. I use it for quiet meditation in the early evenings, but I believe it has ample space for a demonstration if you wished it. Better than drawing unwanted attention in one of the classrooms, I would think."

He almost felt bad for the way that Cleo's eyes seemed to light up and she turned all her attention on Amos with an anticipatory and pleading nature. It wasn't really his suggestion to make, or his conversation to interrupt, but he had been encouraged time and time again to try and make efforts to better associate with his fellow Padawans and Desmond sincerely hoped that's what this was rather than meddling in others' affairs.

[Amos Iakona]

Amos could feel the slight retroactive trepidation from Desmond as he made that suggestion. He supposed that he'd always been able to feel such things, always been able to get a sense of what people were thinking even all the way back in his early days as a volunteer with the Royal Security Forces back on Naboo. Back then he'd thought of it as his gut, and his father had been all too willing to agree with that assumption. His mother had always remained quiet on the subject of course, and now he at suspected why. Ever since he'd discovered that Mandan Hidatsa, his mother's brother, had been a member of the Jedi Order he had wondered why his mother had never said anything to him, never warned him of the possibility that existed within him. That was exactly why, though: that possibility put him in danger. Better to have his potential go unknown and unexploited than risk her son being exposed and killed for what was in his blood.

"That's a great idea," he said, with a subtle nod towards Desmond to reassure him that he hadn't overstepped any bounds. The man was so damn careful, so particular and peculiar about the way he interacted around people. At first, Amos had wondered if it was personal; if it was just another case of people walking on eggshells around him because they found him too intimidating or offputting to know what else to do. He'd since learned that Desmond was just like that around everyone, a byproduct of the religion within which he'd been raised. Amos had never felt he had a right to pry, and yet he'd always wondered just how different it had been. Another reason to be grateful that Cleo was around: she had a talent for catalysing people sharing truths about themselves without it feeling like they had been deliberately ripped out. Might do Desmond some good, having some people around who understood the differences and could help him adjust.

Amos skewered what he expected to be a breaded nugged of poultry with his fork, and jammed it enthusiastically into his mouth. Two chews later and he discovered the truth: not bird-meat, but rather some small and slightly rubbery sea creature, cooked in its entirety and bundled in breadcrumbs to ambush poor unsuspecting people such as himself. Clearly, the Jedi had received relief supplies from the Calamari Sector again. Fun times.

He turned his fork to point towards Cleo, gesturing at her as he continued to chew, carefully shunting the little critter over to one side of his mouth so he could talk out of the other. "Just don't expect too much, okay?" he offered as a warning. Even muffled by food, it was clear that there was a little disappointment at himself mixed in with the words. "May have made my own, but don't expect some Master Loki level sword skill demonstration. I'm not really all that good."