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02.14.2013 , 11:54 PM |
Vashutarl (JK), Kira Carsen
Love is in the Air (Corny. Sorry.)
No story spoilers. Kind of climbing on the Valentine’s bandwagon today, but why not.
Vashutarl held the ribboned box under her arm and entered the lobby of the hostel. A quick glance around showed her it was empty. She knew it was empty, of course, but old habits die hard. She let out a sigh of relief. She didn't want to explain the box or anything about it to an inquisitive Padawan. And for some obscure reason, she didn't want to share the treats inside either.
She made the lift and back to her room without incident. Good. Turned from the door-
"Well, that was quick," Kira said.
Vashutarl jumped, "Don't
that!" she exclaimed.
Kira grinned, "What, you couldn't sense I was here? I’d never get past Master Kiwiicks.”
“I’m not Master Kiwiicks,” Vashutarl objected. It was so hard to see Kira as her student. Vashutarl had to be the teacher. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be the teacher, not yet.
“I noticed,” Kira said, looking her over, “and you’re distracted.”
“I am...” Vashutarl searched for a word that sounded better than distracted, “...preoccupied.”
Kira leaned forward, looking at the box under her arm, “
have a present.”
Vashutarl shuffled the box out of view, “It’s leftovers.”
“You liked him,” Kira persisted.
“I...you,” Vashutarl stammered, feeling heat rising in her cheeks, “you should go practice your
forms.” When in doubt, give an assignment.
Kira peeked around her side, following the box, “Master Din would not approve.”
Vashutarl spun around, keeping the gift out of sight, “He was very interested in
“You know what I mean,” Kira giggled. She put on a sour face, “You must be careful, Vashutarl. Do not allow emotions to cloud your judgement,” she said, mimicking Master Din’s speech.
Vashutarl stifled a laugh. It wasn’t appropriate to make fun of Master Din that way, but Kira imitated him so well. “
forms. Now,” she reiterated with as much gravitas as she could muster.
“All right, all right,
forms,” Kira retreated to the meditation atrium.
Through the atrium’s one-way glass, Vashutarl watched her begin the ritualistic forms. Safely alone again, she set the box down on the table in the room and opened it. The sweet dessert smell wafted out. The waitress had placed each dainty item in its own tiny tissue cup so the flavors wouldn’t mix. Nestled in the corner was a small octagonal container, pink with filigree, emblazoned with the tearoom’s name and the legend ‘house blend’.
Vashutarl opened it. It held dried leaves. Tea leaves. The bright citrus fragrance bloomed in the air. Vashutarl smiled. She fiddled with the yellow flimsiplast lily. On a whim, she went to the sideboard and selected a plain brown clay teapot and matching cup. Plain. Simple. Straightforward. Nice. Like Ian. She set water heating in the kettle by the teapots.
“Don’t holo him until tomorrow, otherwise you look desperate,” Kira quipped, peeking in from the doorframe.
The clay lid to the teapot rattled back on the vessel as Vashutarl nearly dropped it. She turned quickly, “Kira--”
Kira waved off, “
forms, I know,” she said, disappearing into the hallway with a sly wink.
As Vashutarl waited for the water to boil, she wondered if she shouldn’t be the one doing
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