"would some tea help?" + ama & any of the gangTM?
The ceiling of the ancient temple loomed above them, their small fire on the verge of being swallowed by the absolute darkness that had reigned here for millennia. Ama picked up a handful of Tython’s rubble, long reduced to pebbles, and let the fine stones slip between her fingers.Â
“It feels like we’re barely allowed here,” Volya admitted quietly, shifting as she gazed up, up, up into unknowable darkness. They’d already been descending for the better half of the day, and had stopped to take a quick break. Most of the others were dozing in the same way a clip rested in a blaster: ready to spring into action at the merest twitch of necessity. “Like this place is taunting us, almost.”
The three archivists were huddled together, speaking as quietly as they could, both in order to not disturb the ones who rested and the dark stillness itself.
“Yes,” Brider agreed in a soft voice. “I’m worried that it wants us to see its heart, that we’re approaching the… event horizon, as it were.”
Amaranth shivered and couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. She wasn’t sensitive, but even she could feel the eyes of something watching the party pick their careful way down the ruins. The fire popped and crackled, the sound muffled, almost nervous.Â
Her lekku prickled with unease, and she suddenly had to divert the conversation away from its current path. She twisted behind herself and pulled her pack forward, setting it in her lap and noisily opening it as she dug through the contents. “This sort of talk won’t help us,” she said briskly, in her most confident voice. She thought she saw the troopers, the General, glance her way - as if she’d broken some sort of rule by speaking confidently, even as false as it sounded to her own ears. “I think some tea would help us. At least help settle some nerves.”
Volya perked up. “You brought tea!”
Ama nodded and pulled out the tall canteen. “It put the tea bags in last night, so it’s been steeping since then.” She opened her mouth to apologize for it being tepid, almost chilly - but the canteen was warm to the touch. It burned her fingertips. It almost beat in time with her own heart, warm and… and alive… Like something had kept it purposefully hot, in all those hours. That wasn’t possible…
“Something the matter?” Brider asked, worried.
Ama forced herself to brighten, to remain confident and cool and collected, even though touching the canteen made her want to throw it to the shadows. “I was just trying to figure out how strong it will be,” she said, and hoped her smile was convincing enough. She didn’t know what she would do if the Jedi got unnerved. If they were scared of this place… but she could keep their spirits up, in any small way she could think of, and maybe that would be enough.Â
She brought out some of the travel cups, and handed one each to Volya and Brider before turning to the rest of the company. One of the troopers accepted the offer, and when she poured the still-steaming cup for him, she saw his expression falter, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion - but he simply nodded his thanks and raised it to his lips without a word. Volya exclaimed over the taste and smell, how it seemed to chase dangerous thoughts away.
The silence still pressed down on them. Ama drank the tea, and wondered, privately, who had kept it warm for her.
