Chapter Text
The longer the silence lasts, the firmer Benau is in his conviction.
And then Master Fay stirs and at last speaks – slow, steady, thoughtful, with her eyes solely on the armourer’s equally curled-up form beside him.
“Regarding a possible clash with the Jedi Order, there is another way. Although, Benau will likely still not be received well by the branch on Coruscant.”
And, just so, his conviction shakes like a tree in a gale.
His head snaps up. `Corellia?` he thinks, half hopeful, half disgusted. The Corellian Jedi have never been thought well by the Coruscanti ones, nearly on par with the Service Corps. But if he must….
She gazes knowingly, reproachfully at him, and he ducks down again. – Yup, the masters always rebuke the padawans and initiates for badmouthing the Corps and the other temples, though the younger set know they do it themselves, and he forgot it.
In contrast, the armourer laughs their low chattering laugh. But it sounds… jagged. And wet. And void of mirth. And then, wiping a hand across their face, they seemingly force themself to straighten up and declare to the room at large, “No, I am not going to curtail Ben’ka’s chances of having a full life of their own choosing. I am also going to talk about this with Healer Rheze, as well as other matters that apparently have not been addressed well enough.”
That choice seems… lonely. Also as if the armourer is going to just let him go, which sends his heart racing, for some reason.
And Master Fay notices it, wraps his mind in an embrace that exudes warmth-belonging-home-conviction-faith, even as she also declares to the room at large, “No, no deciding things for each other. You impact each other greatly already, adoption or not, and you need to consider it carefully when you decide. So talk, and I or Healer Rheze or both will mediate.”
“You make it sound like we are two warring parties,” Benau complains half-heartedly.
“You are two parties in conflict with each other, although the conflict is unseen and not nation-wide yet,” she retorts mercilessly, and he winces this time.
Well, she is… not wrong. Especially if the greater Jedi Order and Mandalorian society choose to wade in. So, bracing himself mentally, emotionally and physically, he declares, “I want you to mediate, or at least both you and Healer Rheze.” Because Master Fay is a Jedi, though she strangely lets go of the deserved mention of her rank so easily, and he needs her perspective in this, as one raised as a Jedi herself, though she has not been a temple Jedi in… probably centuries.
“And for now, what and where would you like to be?” she continues firmly, mercilessly.
Benau is not the only one taken aback by this non-sequitur… or perhaps seeming non-sequitur, judging by how unsurprised Nafé is.
“My lessons? And duties? And that assignment about support system?” he offers hesitantly. “And… here?”
“My duties,” the armourer says simply.
Neither Master Fay nor Nafé show any reaction to their responses, but Benau suspects that both of them are disappointed.
He wilts accordingly.
The armourer, in contrast, bristles.
Before either interrogatees can speak up, however, Master Fay asks again – far gentler, now, and even sad – “When did you last take a holiday, narýebi?”
It’s aimed at the armourer, Benau thinks, with the appelation spoken in the language other than Mando’a that this family share as a heritage.
In any case, the armourer flinches to that, while Benau now feels curious and even hopeful.
Oh, he loves his guardian, flaws and all, perhaps in a way that everyone in the temple would frown at if they knew. But, subconsciously, he does think they need to be less… uptight, less burdened, although he doesn’t know how he can help.
And a holiday sounds very good, whether as a start or even as the entire solution.