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“…summarized by tomorrow morning, Ehren,” Tavi’s exhausted voice comes through the door as it opens. “With the individual reports attached—no, no, I don’t need anything, Veradis will be here soon enough anyway.”

When he does step through, taking an extra moment to register that this is not, in fact, his office, Tavi glances briefly over his shoulder before shutting the door firmly and then slumping against it slightly. He rubs his temple tiredly, taking the opportunity to pull off the plain steel circlet still on his head, eying both it and the papers in his other hand with dislike. Then he straightens and makes directly for an armchair near the fire, flagging down a waitrat on the way.

Soon he’s seated in a chair, staring into the fire. The circlet serves as a handy paperweight on the stack of reports he’s given up trying to read, now abandoned on the table next to him, He’s cradling a mug of spiced apple cider in his hands, with a dash of liquor in it because it has truly been one of those days.

Between the very faint circles under his eyes and weary, nearly heart-broken expression, Tavi’s looking a little older than his twenty-five years today.

[[ooc: my milliversary isn't until this weekend, but i figure i might as well post this at the start of the weekend rather than the end. thanks for ten great years so far, milliways!]]

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He's not alone by the fire, nor in looking into it's deeps for solace or distraction. Or at least one would assume.

Ahsoka looks up at his approach and nods, before returning to her pensive staring. She's wearing a cloak with its hood up, though the body is thrown over her shoulder. Beneath, she wears a sort of armor and, at her belt, two curved hilts that bear no blades. In her hands, she cups a bowl of weak broth which she sips from absently.

Frankly, most days like this particular one Tavi would leave anyone looking as pensive as he feels well enough alone.

Mostly.

Except--

"... Are those lightsabers?"

Look, he met Kanan recently and he's a fan of the new stabbity he saw. It's almost enough to make him pull out of his own vague sense of defeat, really, and at least enough to catch his interest. Lightsabers are awesome and he wants to figure out how to make one with firecrafting. But he suspects he needs to meet one of the crystals in person first and keeps hoping someone will let him.

His presence in the Force is a little strange--muted, almost, with a vague sense of water sliding over metal locking everything else away. It's what happens when he's got his passive empathy running and also is running emotional shielding. But there's certainly a weight to it, too, that suggests there's something more.

Edited 2019-04-01 21:32 (UTC)

Well, that's certainly a way to catch her attention. She's tempted to say no, but her hand already has shifted protectively over her right saber, so knows only a fool would believe the lie. Instead, she eyes him suspiciously--Cassian had warned Imperials come here--and opens herself to the Force.

He is odd, like no Force sensitive (if that is what he is) or person she's ever know. It is confusing but she at least feels none of cold associated with the Dark Side.

She decides to relax, though keep her guard up. "Yes, they are. Though a unique design." Of course, all lightsabers are of a unique design. "Why do you ask?"

Tavi was a spy long enough to know suspicion when he sees it, and that's interesting in and of itself. Kanan hadn't acted terribly cagey about his weapon, after all.

Still, he's pleased he gets to be in a position of totally innocent inquiry! So he just smiles a little, self-consciously, although his eyes are still shadowed.

"I got a chance to spar with someone here not too long ago who had one. It's the only time I've ever seen anything like them, so I wouldn't know from unique design. I can see it's different, at least--does the different hilt result in a different shape of the blade?"

She shakes her head and pulls up the one her hand is resting on.

"No, the blades are made from plasma and thus are straight. The hilts are curved for my hand, as I tend to switch between a normal gripe and a reverse as I fight."

She demonstrates her grips (not igniting the saber) as she talks.

"I can do the same with the more common straight hilt, but find the curves more comfortable and quicker to switch."

Faaascinating. Tavi leans forward, expression alight with curiosity. Engineering is great.

"So plasma can't be easily shaped to different needs or preferred styles, then?" He watches her demonstration of the grip with interest. "Some day I'll need a proper demonstration of how you fight. None of our two-handed styles use anything like that changing grip, and none of our usual enemies would either. I know some people who would be absolutely fascinated by the possibilities."

Kitai and Araris especially. Furies, Kitai would want to figure out how to adapt it for her own use in a heartbeat, and Araris would love to meet a style he hasn't thought his way around before. As for Tavi, well, he just likes a challenge.

"My master took some time to accept the possibilities" She smiles at the memory. "Aside from my comfort, I find it also throws my enemy off guard, easily protects my lower half, as well as allowing for different slashes and quick stabs on a return stroke."

"Do your friends come here? I would be happy to show them, though I should warn it does take a fair bit of practice to get down."

Tavi's eyebrows go up a little, and then he flashes a quick, mischievous grin. "Stubborn about your inventiveness, was he?" It's the nearly conspiratorial tone of voice of someone who is all too familiar with such relationships with mentors.

Or grandfathers.

"I'm-- certainly in no way prepared for a spar right now," he says a little ruefully--far too much on his mind, "but I definitely need to see this." He's already imagining what he could do with something like that, considering his much larger and heavier build--and the ways something she would do might come off as completely unexpected and therefore ill-prepared-for if he tried it.

"They have, in the past, but-- not lately," Tavi says with a sigh. "Which is a shame. Once Araris picked it up he could easily teach us whatever we didn't manage to understand."

And Araris wouldn't take long at all to pick it up, because he's the best there is, in Tavi's deeply biased opinion.

Ahsoka offers a serene smile and a vague nod at Tavi's appraisal of Anakin's mentoring. Jedi deflection is still part of her repertoire it seems.

"He was an excellent fighter and merely wanted me to be one as well, which often meant emulating him and his preferred style." She feels a little guilt at the implied censure, so quickly moves on. "That is a shame, but I would be interested in sparing another time then. You can learn much from other styles, and I am always willing to learn."

"Does your style have forms for dealing with ranged weapons?"

Tavi tilts his head, the mischievous smile staying in place. "It's hard to argue with your teacher when they're able to put your ass on the ground," he agrees lightly. "My stepfather--one of the people I'd love to see your style--is incredibly healthy for my ego, I'm told."

He's already wondering exactly what this teacher of Ahsoka's was like, because he sounds more than a little rigid. Tavi's opinion of inflexibility has never been high.

He lets out a quiet huff of an almost-laugh. "I might yet change my mind," he admits--he's always open to learning something new himself, after all.

But then he blinks and eyes those hilts again. Right, there's a technological difference that makes him... wonder. "Define ranged weapons," he says dryly.

Ahsoka gives him a sharp, considering look; perhaps realizing how sharp this man's mind might be.

"No, he never put my ass on the ground, as you say. He'd just let me overbalance or overstep and I'd put myself there." She adds a self depreciating laugh. "He was kind and thoughtful as well, and taught me much more than lightsaber skills."

"Usually energy weapons, though there are the occasional slug throwers or other matter projectiles." Each requires different strategies of course. For instance, with matter or slugs, it tends to be safer to use the Force than to use a lightsaber.

Tavi's smile turns rueful. "We were pressed for time, when Araris was actively training me, or he might have been a little gentler with my skin. That, and I think he had decided being gentle with his sparring partners did them no favors when their lives were on the line."

For a moment Tavi's eyes flick back to the fire, a trace of bitterness in them. Today is one of those days he wonders what his father would have done, had he lived.

Already Tavi is just shaking his head, the rueful smile a little wider. "I'm afraid I'd need to see them to understand them," he says, raising a hand in defeat. "We're still at the level of steel blades and arrows, where I come from, though we have other advantages. So yes, I can certainly deal with our version of ranged weapons--but very like you're describing."

He'd pick it up right quick, though.

She picks up on the bitterness and allows it to slide past her awareness.

"These do not allow for rough lessons. Training sabers do, though the resistance isn't quite the same."

"In my galaxy, few fight with melee weapons. Most use blasters and other energy weapons. Or a knife if the enemy is too close. Swords and the like are not really much use against a blaster...except a lightsaber. There are forms created specifically to protect oneself from blaster fire."

"If I weren't working at a refugee camp at the moment, I'd likely have a blaster to show you."

Tavi gives her a sidelong look. "There are different ways to be rough," he says dryly. "Not all of them involve much physical damage."

Mostly lots and lots of hits to his ego, with a few very shallow cuts to go with them.

Huh.

Blasters, is it.

Tavi frowns then, sitting up a little straighter. "Refugees? Natural disaster or war?" His tone has shifted entirely, down a note or two even, from that of someone deeply concerned about business--and far too experienced with it.

She gives him another serene smile in return. Thinking of all the times Anakin left her behind or reassigned her to Temple duty, she adds, "That is very true."

"Something of both. The central government of my galaxy is turning a lot of systems to slag as it builds machines to bolster its power. It does not care for what happens to the people once they are no longer needed for workers, nor the environments once they have all the materials they need."

She doesn't bother hiding the anger in her voice.

Interesting, that. A somewhat contentious but extremely loving relationship with her mentor, and probably some history complicating matters further.

Tavi so does want to know.

Speaking of knowing--

Oh.

Well then.

Okay theoretically it could possibly be some galaxy that isn't Cassian's, so--and Tavi is very conscious of the plain band of steel on the table next to him complicating factors--he lets his lips thin slightly. "Elected representative body, established ruling House, military power consolidation, or--"

Hmm, delicacy.

"Recent and unexpected change in concentration of power?"

That's a diplomatic way of asking if she's dealing with Palpatine, right?

She pauses, taking a sip of the broth to buy some time. She feels nothing nefarious or malignant through the Force, nor any hint of a warning. His dress and manner don't quite fit any systems she's aware of, but still she knows she has more than herself to protect.

Cautiously, she gives a little nod. "A few years ago now, but yes, a recent and unexpected change. Though looking back, maybe it shouldn't have been so unexpected, not that there weren't distractions."

Wars tend to take a lot of attention, galactic ones even more so.

Tavi's smile is very, very thin--but for once his emotions are fairly open. There's a lot of sympathy--if she is from Cassian's world, she's clearly got at least not unreasonable opinions--and more than a little bleak understanding.

"There are always distractions--and almost nothing is as unexpected as it appears, I've found," he observes. "Just because people miss the signs doesn't mean they aren't there. How long has it been?"

His perspective may be biased.

And the question is very intentional. After all, depending what she answers--well, he doesn't want to put Cassian at risk by saying things about the future.

Cassian's also by the fire, he's feeling like himself again but not fully healthy. His datapad is out since he's meant to be working but he keeps drifting off to sleep. Then wakes up with a jolt as he doesn't mean to sleep.

During one of his awake moments, he nods to Tavi, "Whatever you're drinking smells good."

Cassian frankly looks awful, but Tavi's not really feeling like he's likely to be much use in fixing that, today. He just offers a half-hearted smile. "Just some spiced apple cider. A fruit from a tree," he adds, knowing that Cassian has some odd fruits in his universe so maybe they don't have regular apples. "I would have had something stronger, but I couldn't be bothered to decide what liquor would go with the taste of cider, and--"

Beat.

Tavi's eyes flick back to the fire.

"Wine was not what I wanted to taste with spice."

Too many associations.

There's a story there but Cassian's not up to asking too much at the moment,

"Oh, I've got a mug of tea around here somewhere."

It isn't a story Tavi would have told, anyway.

"Let me know if it needs reheating." He's honestly very tempted to just socially hibernate right now, but he's in public and Cassian is a good friend, and he reminds himself to not let himself stew too deeply in his own mind. "What has you looking like a taurg chewed you up and spat you out?"

"A flu that made me think I was someone else. Its finally leaving. What about you?"

Tavi doesn't look as bad but he doesn't seem present in the way he normally does.

"Oh. That." Tavi is deeply glad this is not a problem he's ever had.

He just shrugs, fluidly, and offers a weary smile. "Summer's in full swing, so we've been trying to push our food production a little more so we're more prepared for the upcoming winter than we were last year. And politics... is what it is."

A headache, eternally, more or less.

Cassian nods, he knows that struggle to have enough food to manage for the winter, "That's always a push."

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