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Master Tyvokka worried about his Padawan.
All things considered, Plo was a wonderful Padawan. He excelled in the Force, was skilled with a lightsaber, and his academics never slipped.
But like any Master of a young Padawan, he worried.
He was young, barely of age to be out of the Creche, and impossibly tiny. He barely came past his knees, and was so, so shy.
He rarely left his Masters side, always clinging onto his hand or hiding under his robes. He was kind to a fault, caring for all manners of life. But with that caring came sensitivity, leading to him becoming easily upset by, in Tyvokka’s eyes, practically nothing at all.
But, most concerning of all, he had no friends and did not speak.
Outside of a mysterious “Master Fae” he’d never heard of or seen, Plo only interacted with Master Myr’s Padawan, a young Korun named Mace. To Master Tyvokka, their friendship made little sense. Mace was hotheaded and highly opinionated, known for being aggressive and fighting with other Padawans. Plo was the exact opposite, easily upset, yes, but too timid to act out on his anger.
And yet, they were friends.
Master Tyvokka had been quite alarmed the first time he met the young boy. Plo had only been his Padawan for a week when they were approached by Mace, still Master-less at this time, a scowl on his face and a Creche-Master following close behind. He glared up at Master Tyvokka with all the indignation a 10 year old could muster.
“You’re Plo’s Master,” he said, crossing his arms.
“ I am ,” Master Tyvokka paused before continuing. “ I assume you are a friend of his? ”
Mace declined to answer, now glaring at the Kel’Dor shaped lump beneath his robes. He glared for a few seconds longer before Plo poked his head out with a questioning croon.
Mace had taken that as his chance to lunge forward and drag Plo out, completely unbothered by his hissing and flailing. Master Tyvokka had moved to rescue his Padawan, only to be stopped by the Creche-Master’s laughter.
At his confused, vaguely alarmed expression, the Creche-Master only laughed harder.
“A rather common occurrence, I’m afraid,” he said as an explanation between chuckles.
Master Tyvokka watched with mild bemusement and concern as Mace dragged Plo, who didn’t seem overly bothered by his current situation, over to a quiet spot of the gardens. He dropped him none too gently on the ground and sat next to Plo’s sprawled out form.
The two sat silently for a while, Plo eventually sitting upright as Mace began talking quietly to him.
True to the Creche-Master’s word, the sight of his Padawan being dragged away by Mace had become a common occurrence. Plo had most recently taken to climbing onto Master Tyvokka’s back to escape him, which more often than not led to the esteemed Jedi Master being used as a Wookie-sized jungle gym.
He was just silently thankful that Plo’s claws hadn’t fully developed yet, mere pinpricks compared to the metal-tearing talons they’d grow into.
For a short moment of time, assumed that Mace was the reason Plo had no friends. Perhaps a bit cruel on his part, but Mace had a reputation for a reason. Master Tyvokka’s assumption had not at all been helped by gossiping Masters and Knights, who were all but convinced that Mace was too angry to be a Jedi.
But, during a conversation with Plo’s former Creche-Master about his concerns, his assumptions would be proven false. Mace, as he learned, was the only one in their Clan to make an actual effort to befriend Plo.
According to the Creche-Master, the other Initiates stopped talking to Plo due to him seemingly ignoring them. He didn’t join in on their conversations or games, instead choosing to play alone with a bantha plush given to him by this 'Master Fae'.
Plo held that same plush as they walked through the Gardens. It always accompanied them wherever they went as Plo refused to leave their dorms without it. Prior to a few weeks ago, only Mace was allowed to hold the plush.
Plo toddled ahead, Master Tyvokka walking close behind to make sure he didn’t trip and end up in some ridiculous pose on the ground. Plo had the unfortunate habit of not paying attention to his surroundings.
He was pulled from his thoughts by a light tugging on his robes, Plo clicking to get his attention.
He knelt down, tilting his head slightly, “ Yes, Padawan? ”
Plo twittered and held up a hand, presenting him a rock to assess.
Master Tyvokka took the rock from his hands, humming thoughtfully in an exaggerated manner as though he were a connoisseur in rocks. He wasn’t entirely sure of all the nuances of Kel’Dorian “rock language”, only having the barest of knowledge to not offend him. But he knew it was deeply important to his Padawan, and that “rock hunting” was an important part of Kel’Dorian culture.
He turned the rock over in his large hands. It was a deep red color intermixed with speckled grey. While Master Tyvokka held no true opinion of the rocks his Padawan chose, he could say truthfully that he had an eye for them.
“ It’s a lovely rock, Plo. Good job, ” he praised as he handed it back to him.
Plo trilled, visibly lighting up, but, to Master Tyvokka’s surprise, pushed the rock back into his hands.
He paused for a moment, “ Do you want me to keep it? ”
Plo nodded enthusiastically, rocking slightly on his heels.
Master Tyvokka smiled, making a note to go to the Archives later to find out the meaning behind it, “ Thank you, Padawan. I will treasure it. ”
Plo chirped happily and squeezed his bantha plush before turning around and running off ahead, no doubt on the hunt for more rocks. Master Tyvokka hurried after him so he wouldn’t lose him. For being so small, he was far faster than he had any right being.
Soon enough, they came to a small clearing, where Master Myr was meditating with Mace. Plo stilled at the edge of the clearing, his small talons flexing as he waited for Master Tyvokka. Once the Jedi Master neared, he pointed towards the pair with a quiet chirp.
“ Do you want to go say hello? ” Master Tyvokka asked.
Plo nodded.
Master Tyvokka held out his hand for Plo to grasp as they approached them. Master Myr opened her eyes as they neared, an easy smile already on her face.
“Master Tyvokka, what a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” she said as Mace opened his eyes as well, already glaring at Master Tyvokka like he owed him money.
Master Myr gave him an encouraging nudge, “Say hello, Padawan.”
Mace huffed, “Hello.”
“Hello…-?” Master Myr gestured for him to continue.
“Hello, Master Tyvokka,” he said, looking like he’d rather eat a lemon. He glanced over at his Master and, seeing her encouraging smile, sighed and added on in the deadest tone he’d ever heard from a child, “How may we help you today?”
Master Myr lit up and gave him a thumbs up like he achieved some monumental achievement. Considering that this was the most civil Mace has ever been with him (when he wasn’t actively ignoring his existence, that is), he supposed it was.
“ Plo wanted to say hello, ” he responded, gesturing to his Padawan from where he was half-hiding behind his legs.
Mace perked up as Master Myr leaned over to see him. She smiled gently at him and gave him a small wave, “Hello there, little one.”
Plo shifted a bit and waved back. Master Myr’s smile became brighter, clearly barely resisting the urge to coo at him.
“Is there something you wanted, Padawan?” she asked, keeping her voice soft.
Plo nodded. He hesitated for a moment before timidly pointing at Mace.
“ Do you want to play with Mace? ” Master Tyvokka asked.
Plo nodded again.
Master Tyvokka looked at Master Myr, “ Is that alright with you? ”
She laughed good-naturedly, “Of course! Mace and I were almost done anyway. Right, Padawan?”
“Mhm,” Mace hummed as he was already getting up.
Plo slipped his hand out of Master Tyvokka’s to join him, quietly handing the plush over to him as the pair were already running off.
Master Myr chuckled at their enthusiasm as she stood up, brushing herself off. She stood next to Master Tyvokka, watching their Padawans play some combination of tag and ‘the floor is lava’. Whoever was ‘it’ had to avoid touching the floor at all costs, while the other was free to run freely. She chuckled as Plo deliberating stood at the bases of trees, just barely out of Mace’s reach. He let out chittery laughter as he dodged Mace’s sudden lunge, leading to him crashing straight through a bush.
“ How have you been? ” Master Tyvokka asked conversationally as Mace abandoned the rules and charged after Plo. Plo squealed and hastily burrowed into the ground.
“I’ve been well. Little Mace has been keeping me on my toes recently,” she smiled and chuckled to herself, “He’s quite the handful, as you know.”
Master Tyvokka, unfortunately, knew all too well of Padawan Mace’s escapades, “ Are you referring to the Knight he bit last week? ”
“Oh that?” Master Myr said with far too much casualness. Like she didn’t have a feral nexu disguised as a Padawan. “I can’t say he didn’t deserve it.”
Master Tyvokka raised an eyebrow in a silent question.
Master Myr waved it off, although there was a tension to her smile now, “He was just going on about the usual things; How he shouldn’t be a Jedi, that he’s going to Fall, he's too angry, too violent, you know how it goes.”
Her smile became sharp, “Although, this Knight did at least come up with a new one to add to the list.”
“ Oh? ” Master Tyvokka had not heard of this.
“He, straight to my Padawan's face,” her expression became downright murderous, “called him Sithspawn.”
Master Tyvokka balked.
“ He what?” he growled. He may have his own set of problems with Padawan Mace, but to call a child that…
If anyone dared to speak about Plo like that (and some had. Some in concern that the boy was a bad influence, and others in outright condemnation that he was leading his Padawan down a Dark path by allowing them to be friends), well… let’s just say that Master Tyvokka would not be held responsible for any missing limbs.
Master Myr nodded solemnly, “I’m afraid I was rather close to punching him before Mace bit him.”
Master Tyvokka didn’t blame him.
“ You realise that allowing such behaviour only further damns him in their eyes ,” he said, not unkindly but rather in concern.
“I know…,” she trailed off, lost in thought as she watched her Padawan shout that burrowing underground was cheating. He got a face full of dirt for his efforts.
“He’s such a sweet boy,” she mused, an uncharacteristic frown on her face before she shook her head, her usual smile returning, “But that’s enough about me. How is little Plo?”
“ He is well, although still… quiet .”
“He still hasn’t talked yet?”
Master Tyvokka shook his head, “ No. I’ve tried to get him but… nothing seems to be working. I know that Kel’Dor develop slower than the Galactic Average, but I feel as though I’m missing something.”
Master Myr hummed, “Has he made any new friends?”
“ Still only Mace. From what his teachers tell me, it’s like he’s afraid of them. They are concerned about his lack of engagement.”
“Poor boy…,” Master Myr muttered. “Have you considered taking him to the Halls or getting him a Mind Healer?”
Master Tyvokka nodded, “ I was planning on setting up an appointment soon. ”
“Good. I don’t want to concern you but…”
“ I know ,” Master Tyvokka agreed.
Their conversation flickered off from there, both watching their respective Padawan’s for a few minutes more before calling them back. Both of them were covered in dirt, their game of tag having devolved into slinging dirt at each other with the Force. Plo shook the dirt off him with little effort, trilling with mischievous glee under Padawan Mace’s glare as his Master tutted over her Padawan.
Master Tyvokka handed Plo’s plush back to him and, with a few parting words to Master Myr, left the Gardens.
___
“ Plo, it’s not that bad, ” Master Tyvokka sighed.
Plo’s angry hiss told him just how much he disagreed.
Master Tyvokka had finally gotten around to scheduling an appointment with the Halls of Healing to finally voice his concerns to the Healers and, hopefully, get some answers.
Unfortunately for him, Plo had a… intense dislike for the Halls of Healing. Master Tyvokka could sympathise with him, he too wasn’t fond of visiting the Halls, but his Padawan took it to another level.
It was a miracle he even got him in with such little fuss, unlike last time. Last time, he had made the mistake of telling Plo they were going to the Halls. Whatever response Master Tyvokka was expecting, it wasn’t his Padawan running for the hills like death itself was chasing him, and leaving Tyvokka with a shredded robe and one less boot. No one could find him for hours until they found him in the vents. As the only Master’s small enough to fit, they had to send Master’s Yoda and Yaddle after him.
Once out, he seemed to have calmed down… for all of five minutes before he realised he was still going to the Halls.
The events following that revelation made Mace look like the most innocent and well-behaved Padawan in the history of the Order.
This time, Tyvokka didn’t tell him and took a winding path so that by the time Plo realised where he was, it was too late and Tyvokka had already captured him before he could run. It did little to stop the dramatics, however.
At least he wasn’t trying to make a break for the door. Yet.
Master Tyvokka hadn’t exactly given him the chance to try, with how he had confined his Padawan to his lap, swaddled in his robes like an infant. He thankfully hadn’t been required to let go of him, so rather than chasing his Padawan through the entire Temple, he had a grumbly Kel’Dor in his arms.
Plo huffed, his beak clacking audibly from behind his mask.
“ We’ll be out soon, I promise, ” he tried, only to get an angry rumble in return. He was mildly worried that if the Healer didn’t return soon, Plo would claw his way out.
He could hear the fabric ripping.
Thankfully, the Healer, a Senior Padawan on the brink of being Knighted, walked in, tapping at something on her datapad. Plo warbled anxiously at her return, shrinking slightly into Master Tyvokka’s arms.
“ Well? ” Tyvokka asked.
The Padawan Healer sighed, eyebrows furrowing as she looked at him, “Physically, there’s nothing wrong with him. A bit shorter than average, but that’s likely due to genetics. But no abnormalities that would affect his ability to speak.”
She looked back down at the datapad, “By all means, he should be speaking at his age. Do you know of any potential trauma he could have from before he came to the Temple?”
Master Tyvokka shook his head, “ No. To my knowledge, he was brought in when he was an infant, and nothing indicates that anything happened in those years. ”
“Hmm…,” the Healer hummed, going over her notes and Plo’s past medical file, “Outside of speaking, have you noticed him having difficulties in other areas? Such as falling behind academically or socially?”
“ He doesn’t like interacting with others, ” he responded readily as Plo found his hand and began fidgeting with his fingers. Master Tyvokka glanced down at him and playfully poked his mask. Plo chirped at him, affronted.
Master Tyvokka huffed out a small laugh as the Healer continued with her questions, “Do you think this is because he doesn’t speak, or something else?”
He took a moment to think, “ I think, even if he did speak, not much would change.”
“Is this,” the Healer gestured towards Plo, currently hidden beneath Tyvokka’s robes, “normal behaviour for him?”
“ Yes. ”
“In unfamiliar situations or in general?”
“ In general. He hides from anyone who isn’t me or Padawan Mace.”
She hummed again, pausing before continuing, “I can’t say for certain, but, from what you’ve told me, I believe he may have a developmental disorder. I’m not expertised in Kel’Dorian physiology, so I could be wrong. Still, I strongly recommend getting him evaluated. Just to be safe.”
She frowned at something on her datapad, “You said you consulted his Creche Master’s about this, right?”
“ Yes.”
“Have you consulted his uncle as well?”
Master Tyvokka blinked as Plo perked up and trilled at his uncle’s mention, “‘His uncle’? He has an uncle in the Temple?”
“Yes,” the Healer nodded, “Master Fae Koon. It says here that he was the one to bring Padawan Plo to the Temple. Padawan Plo was placed under his care until he was five.”
“ I was… unaware of that ,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
At the very least, he now knew who Master Fae was. He had, embarrassingly, been under the impression he was an imaginary friend when Plo’s Creche Master mentioned him off-handedly. But now he was left wondering exactly how he didn’t know his Padawan had an uncle, one who basically raised him at that.
“Perhaps you could ask him as well? To see if this is a change that occurred only after he joined the Creche,” the Healer prompted at Master Tyvokka’s silence.
Master Tyvokka looked down at his Padawan before responding, “ Yes, I think I will. ”
___
Some weeks later, Master Tyvokka found himself and his Padawan walking down one of the many hallways of the Temple. If one were to look at them, they would’ve assumed Master Tyvokka was alone, unable to spot his small Padawan hiding beneath his robes as he gripped onto his pants or a corner of his tunic. Both of them had become somewhat masterful at walking in such a way without tripping over each other.
That was, of course, only after they had made many displays of themselves falling dramatically. Master Tyvokka half suspected that had Plo been a bit less shy, he would’ve clambered on Master Tyvokka’s back far more often.
After their visit to the Halls, Master Tyvokka had taken to looking into this Master Fae. There was very little on him, which initially made him suspicious until some further digging revealed he was a Shadow. Only the Master of Shadows could gain full access to Jedi Shadow files, and while he could technically access them as Master of the Order, he had no wish to gain Master Yaddle’s ire.
As such, he was reduced to what he could find on mission logs and what little was available on his declassified file. His file revealed hardly anything useful, only his name, species, and age, the former two already known to him and the latter irrelevant. Although, it was a bit of a surprise to learn that he was only a few decades younger than him.
His mission logs were a tad bit more helpful, and gave some reason for why Master Tyvokka had never run across him. He seemed to spend a great deal of time out of the Temple on long-term missions, often, if Master Tyvokka had to guess, undercover deep in the Outer Rim. The longest stretch of time that he stayed in the Temple was the five years he spent raising Plo. Since then, he’s been on back-to-back missions, although, Master Tyvokka noted, with less frequency than before he brought Plo to the Temple.
And, according to those mission logs, his most recent one, an eight month mission that started a few weeks after Plo became his Padawan, had just finished. Thus, Master Tyvokka had deemed it time to pay him a visit.
Underneath his robes, Plo chirped inquisitively, likely wondering where they were going. Master Tyvokka idly wondered if he could actually see anything under there.
“ It’s a surprise, Padawan ,” he said idly as he scanned the plates above each doorway, looking for Master Fae’s name.
They walked past a few more dorms until he finally spotted the correct dorm. Coming to a stop, with Plo only mildly bumping into his leg, he rang the doorbell. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late in the day and they had missed him entirely. Plo shuffled beneath him, making some strange mix of chirping and warbling.
“ It’s alright, Plo. After this, we can get some koja nuts. Does that sound good? ” Tyvokka asked, knowing of his Padawan’s intense love for them. He in general preferred nuts over any other food, and Master Tyvokka wasn’t exactly above bribing him with them.
He felt Plo nod against his thigh just as the door opened. Behind it revealed a Kel’Dor just barely shorter than Master Tyvokka himself. He adjusted the goggles over his eyes and sighed tiredly. There was a scar across his face, several years old by the look at it, and he could see others trailed out from underneath his clothes. His robes were in disarray, as though they had been tossed on hurriedly. Bacta patches peeked out from behind them.
Master Fae, overall, looked rough. Master Tyvokka wasn’t impressed.
He leaned against the doorway, giving Master Tyvokka an unimpressed look of his own, clearly recognising him as a Council Member, and raised an eyebrow, “Can I help you?”
Master Tyvokka bristled slightly at the blatant disrespect, but before he could respond, a loud, excited chirp burst from under his robes. Master Tyvokka barely had time to look down before a brown blur escaped his robes and latched itself to Master Fae’s. Master Fae himself let out an aborted trill of surprise.
“Plo?” he asked in mild shock. “What are-?”, he looked back up at Master Tyvokka, something seeming to click in place for him, “Ah, you must be his Master.”
“ I am ,” he responded a bit stiffly.
Below them, Plo tugged on his uncle’s robes again, chirruping.
Master Fae looked down at him and tilted his head, “Up?”
Plo nodded enthusiastically. Master Fae twittered quietly as he picked his nephew up and settled him in his arms, Plo chirruping again and making himself comfortable.
Master Tyvokka was only mildly jealous.
Master Fae met his not-at-all jealous gaze and smirked far too smugly for his liking.
On second thought, he was jealous.
Master Fae motioned behind him with a poor imitation of a Coruscanti accent that made Plo laugh, “Would you care to come in?”
Master Tyvokka resisted the urge to sneer, but Master Fae had already turned with unneeded flourish (that Tyvokka was convinced he only did to annoy him) to walk into his living room, commenting on the bantha plush in Plo’s arms.
“Still holding onto that old thing, huh?” he said idly, lightly tugging on one of its horns.
Plo swatted his hand away.
“Close the door, would you?” Master Fae called out over his shoulder.
This time Master Tyvokka really did sneer as he pushed the button with more force than necessary.
Master Fae had already settled on the couch, Plo chirping excitedly and Master Fae nodded along like he understood, although, from the way his head was tilted, Master Tyvokka knew he was watching.
As he finally settled Plo on his lap, Plo tapped him on the chest carefully, right where a bandage could be seen.
“I’m fine, Plo,” Master Fae said, “just got into some trouble with a couple of bad guys.”
Plo tilted his head.
“They were doing some real bad shit, hurting a lot of people. But don’t worry, I kicked their asses across three planets.”
Plo warbled in concern, tapping his chest gently again.
Master Fae huffed quietly, lounging back in his seat, “What? You think I can’t take on some punks? This was just a lucky shot. One of them bastards was real good with a vibroblade. But,” he leaned forward, raising a hand to show off his claws, each of them practically longer than Plo’s forearm, “they weren’t a match for these.”
Master Tyvokka shifted, more than a little uncomfortable at what Master Fae was telling his Padawan and the implications behind them, even as Plo twittered in interest. He even raised his own hand in imitation of his uncle. Master Fae laughed fondly.
“I better not catch you trying to fight any bad guys with these,” he said as he took Plo’s hand in his, examining his claws, “Your little baby claws couldn’t cut flimsi.”
Master Tyvokka’s many shredded robes would like to protest that statement.
Plo squawked in offense, shaking his head like he was arguing that he could. He flashed his claws and growled in an attempt to be menacing. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite pull it off.
Master Fae leaned back, faintly amused, “You need to work on your growl,” he poked Plo on the forehead, “How are you going to scare off bad guys if you sound like a loth-kitten?”
Plo hissed back.
“Yes, you do,” he said, poking Plo again. “Like an itty bitty hatchling.”
Plo trilled angrily, trying to swat at his uncle with his bantha plush. Master Fae let him, blocking his attacks with ease.
Master Tyvokka watched as they fought playfully, Master Fae carefully keeping his claws away to not accidentally hurt him. Plo held no such inhibitions, although Master Tyvokka doubted that he could actually cause any harm.
Plo smacked him in the face with his plush, and made to do it again, only to be thwarted by Master Fae scruffing him with his robes.
“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” he said as he placed Plo at the far side of the couch.
Plo hissed and tried to go at him again, but was easily blocked by a pillow.
Master Tyvokka watched as his Padawan continuously tried to rush his uncle and each time was either blocked or gently pushed away. It was mildly entertaining to watch, if not a bit pathetic to see his Padawan get thwarted by a pillow. Quickly getting frustrated by the impervious wall known as the pillow, Plo opted for a change of strategy. That change of strategy being to fling his plush as hard as he could at his uncle.
While he did succeed in a direct hit, the victory was short-lived as he quickly realised that he had no more ammunition and that his beloved plush was captured. Master Fae held the plush up tauntingly with an amused twitter.
Just as Plo geared up for another attack with considerably more vengeance, Master Tyvokka very pointedly cleared his throat to get their attention. Plo immediately sat down and gave his Master the most innocent wide-eyed stare he could muster as if he wasn’t planning an attack moments ago.
Master Fae, on the other hand, rolled his head over to him, “Oh, I forgot you were here.”
Master Tyvokka was beginning to dislike him with extreme prejudice.
“ I wish to discuss something with you ,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, really?,” he made a show of examining his claws. “What does the grand Master Tyvokka want to speak with me about?”
Master Tyvokka narrowed his eyes, “I wanted to talk about Plo. ”
Something about his demeanor changed, “What about Plo?”
“ I wanted to consult about some concerning behavior that I’ve noticed ,” he said.
Plo looked between them, before his gaze landed on Master Tyvokka. He tilted his head and warbled.
He tried for a comforting smile, “ You’re not in any trouble, Padawan. ”
Master Fae clicked, “Plo, I just had a great idea.”
Plo tilted his head.
“Why don’t you make us some tea while me and your Master talk?” he leaned down and made a show of whispering conspiratorially, “I have dried barabel fruits in the top cupboard.”
Plo perked up excitedly and quickly rushed off towards the kitchen, nearly tripping over himself in his haste.
Master Tyvokka’s gaze briefly followed him to make sure he wouldn’t trip. He turned back only to see Master Fae’s glare.
“So,” he started, instantly more aggressive than he had been moments prior, “what exactly is this ‘ concerning behavior ’ that has you so worried?”.
Master Tyvokka straightened, “ He doesn’t act like one his age should. I’ve consulted the Halls and they’ve confirmed it. He doesn’t- ”
He was cut off by a growl.
“So what ?” Master Fae growled, his voice low. His claws sank into the couch. “Is my nephew not good enough for the high and mighty Master Tyvokka ? You think just because Plo’s different, he doesn’t deserve your time? Is that why you’re here?”
“ What?” Master Tyvokka reared back under the accusations, “ I have no intention of abandoning my Padawan. ”
Master Fae sneered at him, having abandoned any attempt to look nonchalant. His scar rippled across his face as he snarled, his talons twitching in obvious anger, “So what is it then?”
“All I wanted to do was ask you about Plo. I’m concerned about him.”
Master Fae scoffed, “Yeah, right.”
Master Tyvokka froze. Before he could help it, he was baring his fangs, “ You believe me to be so callous as to accuse me of not caring for my own Padawan?! ”
Something clanged in the kitchen.
He continued, “ I want to do right for my Padawan. I came here with the simple want of making sure I am . But clearly, I came to the wrong place if you think I’m incapable of caring.”
Master Fae looked at him assessingly, clicking under his breath. He huffed, “You’ll do. Even if you’re a Council Member.”
“ I- ,” Master Tyvokka blinked, “ What?”
“Don’t get your fur all in a puff. It was a test,” he said with none of his previous anger. Anger that, Master Tyvokka now realised, was completely fake.
“ A test?” he said incredulously, “ For what?”
Master Fae was simultaneously annoyingly calm and annoyingly smug, “To make sure you’re right for my nephew, obviously. Can’t any old stuck-up bastard teaching him, gotta make sure they’re willing to claw some eyes out for him. Or in your case,” he looked at him with a smirk, “rip some arms off.”
Master Tyvokka was at a genuine loss for words and stuck somewhere between profound confusion and offence.
Master Fae only laughed, “You’re fine. You can stop gaping,” he shifted into a more comfortable position, his tone considerably more conversational, “Now, what’d you want to talk about?”
Master Tyvokka still hadn’t quite recovered from the whiplash he received every time Master Fae spoke.
“If you’re concerned about friends,” he continued as though he had said something, “I mean he’s got Initiate Mace. He’s an asshole but a good kid. He’s got spunk in him. Little bastard tried to fight me once.”
He was not at all surprised to hear that Mace tried to fight someone three times his size. In fact, he could sympathise with him. He felt rather inclined to fight Master Fae himself.
“ He hasn’t tried to fight me yet ,” he said.
Master Fae laughed, “That means he likes you.”
He doubted that. “Tolerated” seemed like a better word.
“So,” Master Fae prompted, sitting up straighter, “Your concerns? Or should I just keep rambling?”
“ Plo doesn’t speak, ” he said bluntly. “ I was wondering if it was a more recent development. But based on your interactions, I assume he’s never spoken?”
Master Fae shrugged and nodded, “Not a word. He actually used to be quieter. He didn’t chirp or anything for years. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a Kel’Dor hatchling, but they are noisy little bastards. It concerned me in the beginning, I probably drove the Healers mad, bringing him in for just about everything.”
“ Perhaps that’s where he gets his disdain of the Halls from ,” Master Tyvokka lightly joked.
“Oh Force, don’t get me started, ” he groaned a bit dramatically. “Kid acts like I’m sending him to his death. The last time I had to take him, he somehow managed to hide himself in my couch. Not under the couch, inside of it.”
“ The first time I took him, I lost a boot. ”
He laughed, “He may look all cute and innocent but he’s a terror.”
Master Tyvokka found himself chuckling in agreement.
They continued to speak for a time, Plo eventually returning with a precariously balanced tray of tea. Master Tyvokka rose to take it from him, placing it on the table between him and Master Fae. Plo sat back next to his uncle, not paying them any mind as he idly fidgeted with Master Fae’s fingers, as Master Tyvokka updated him on the on-goings in the Temple. He was quite surprised to learn that Initiate Mace was now Padawan Mace.
“May the Force bless his Master, she’s going to fucking need it,” he said, twittering under his breath.
During their discussion, Master Tyvokka quickly came to the realization that whatever type of tea Dorin produced, it was utterly horrific to a Wookie palette. He managed to choke it down, calling in all his training as a Jedi to not immediately gag. He thought he was doing fairly well until he caught Master Fae’s silent laughter. How glad, he was, for his misery to be a source of entertainment.
He swore, if this was another one of Master Fae’s “tests”, he was going to punch him, decorum be damned. He silently envied the two Kel’Dor’s, glaring a bit excessively at Master Fae, as they drank it with little problem. Plo even had two cups and was now on his third.
At least he now knew why Plo acted like his own tea was an offense upon nature. He vividly remembered the time he tried to ask Plo to show him why he didn’t like his tea. Plo’s “explanation” was making a cup of dirty water with a splash of honey in it and then presenting it to him. He had been rather offended by him comparing his lovely tea with mud.
Eventually, they did have to leave, if only because Plo was becoming noticeably tired, and nearly drifted off in his uncle’s lap. They said their goodbye’s quickly and quietly, Master Tyvokka carefully taking Plo from Master Fae’s hold. As they left, Plo all but asleep in his arms, he caught Master Fae smiling at them. Not the smug smile he wore previously. A brief, genuine smile. It lasted hardly a second, disappearing just as quickly as he closed the door.
Master Tyvokka didn’t linger, walking back to their own dorms at a steady pace, careful to not wake his Padawan. In the back of his mind, he made a note to plan another meet-up with Master Fae.
And to find that tea, no matter how much he hated it. Perhaps he could find a substitute, so he and Plo could enjoy it together.