False Dichotomies

1. Alone;

I'd like to say now, I started this with no knowledge of either Quinlan Vos' history or Master Tholme's. Why do they feature so heavily in this? You may ask, since you'd think I'd only write characters I know.

My answer? The plot demanded it. I had no choice in the matter. If these are characters you love greatly and they're very OOC, I apologise. I tried to research them, but I am a poor researcher.

'As agreed by our peoples, we pass this child, my child, into the care of the Jedi. Her name is Estai, the first Sithspawn child born in over a hundred years, and she is strong in the Force. She is beyond what we can do for her. I entrust her to you. Raise her. Teach her.'

-Note detailed in the Jedi Archives under the personal record of Estai (Initiate).

***

Estai knows how to keep her head down. She's learned, over the years, because it's better that way, safer that way. The less she's seen, the less she's noticed, the better off she is. That's how this works. That's how it's always worked.

She's good at it. She knows who she can walk past without trouble everyday, who she has to avoid wherever possible, and whose reactions are a matter of their mood. Generally, so long as she keeps her eyes low and her face turned away, she's alright.

This has been her life since the day she was given to the Jedi Temple, and it will be her life until she's finally old enough to leave. Given how slow her species ages relative to most others, it's going to be a long while yet.

It would probably feel like less time if she weren't quite so good at finding trouble.

In her opinion, 'finding' is the wrong word. Estai doesn't find trouble, trouble finds her. Today, trouble comes in the form of a boy (it's almost always a boy, the girls here have far too much common sense).

He's human or near enough that she can't tell any difference. His pale skin, red hair, and freckles mark him as a stewjoni human. She hasn't seen a stewjoni in years, let alone one at the Temple. Most of their people prefer to stay on their planet where they have peace and quiet and no need to bother with the pains of galactic politics. If this kid's here in the Temple rather than far away on his homeworld, it probably means that what she's heard (or more like read between the lines) about Stewjon is true: Force-sensitives— even stewjoni Force-sensitives— are not welcome.

She's busy. There's been a rotation recently in the Crèche for older initiates to do odd jobs around the refectory. It keeps Estai away from most other initiates aside from those just as busy with work as she is. It's good, safe. It's not the most enjoyable thing in the world, not when they're generally washing dishes and things but she's learned ways to entertain herself.

Anyway, the boy is holding a pile of trays so high that he has to lean sideways just to see where he's going. Having been told the safety requirements here at least six times by the refectory staff, she knows there's no situation where he should be carrying that much. The kitchens are a changing landscape, one wrong step and he'll go tumbling along with all those trays.

Lo and behold, she watches his foot catch. He puts up a valiant effort, trying to recover his balance, but he's really got no chance. He's lucky, really, that Estai is so close by and seeing it happen. She doesn't catch him, but she does catch the trays. They're clean ones and if he drops them then she'll have to clean them all over again.

It takes just a little touch of the Force and the trays pile themselves up on the side while the boy rolls back to his feet. As soon as it's done, she turns back to her cleaning.

"Thank you," the boy whispers.

Estai may have been stupid enough to catch the trays but she's not stupid enough to respond. If she's lucky, he'll think he's made a mistake and that she wasn't the one who helped. At the very least, he moves away fast and she gets to continue with her day.