#everythingsfine

Just thirty short days, since the force had surged almost violently and brought the entire temple to its knees.

The temple inhabitants who were most in tune with the Living Force had been able to climb, albeit shakily, to their feet but moments later. Most suffering little worse than sharp headaches, a little dizziness, and a handful of nose bleeds. The remaining temple inhabitants, who were more in tune with the Unifying Force had been rendered unconscious by the unexpected surge. It was a state that would last anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours in the worst cases. 

But, the skill’s of the Jedi temple healers are currently unmatched by any other in the galaxy. So it should come as a surprise to no one that by days end, everyone from the oldest Master to the youngest Crecheling had made a full recovery. Although dinner in the temples commissary was an unusually subdued affair that night, what with everyone puzzling over the days strangeness, and the Force’s seeming unwillingness to elucidate the unexpected surge to anyone. 

For the temple inhabitants, everything was fine. 

Master Windu was fine. 

Yes when the force surged Mace had gone down hard in the middle of a council meeting, but Shatterpoints could be overwhelming at times. It wasn’t surprising that Mace’s mental shield’s hadn’t been able to cope with the sheer number of Shatterpoints all over the galaxy shattering and rebuilding themselves into new patterns. He wasn’t even the only one in the temple to lose consciousness. He wasn’t even the only one on the council to loose consciousness.

So he would appreciate it if his fellow Councilors would stop looking at him like something was wrong with him.It didn’t matter that he had seemingly shaved his head on a whim. It’s a new style choice people make them all the time. He personally thought that he didn’t look all that bad, maybe a little stern, but rather handsome really. And it also didn’t matter that maybe sometimes, when distracted, Mace would stare at his hand while curling his fingers into a fist and relaxing them over and over. That at night, he would toss and turn restlessly, dreams filled with war, and pain, and darkness.

As far as he was concerned, it was Master Yoda his fellow Councilors should be concerned with. Mace hadn’t realized how spry Master Yoda truly was until after the force surge. It seemed like the old troll had aged decades overnight, turning his normally exaggerated old man shuffle into an almost stagger at times. Lately though, the normally crafty Grandmaster seemed to be almost unbearably sad. 

When he wasn’t in council meetings, or meditating in The Room of a Thousand Fountains he could sometimes be found in the more heavily frequented areas of the temple. Always staring with what Mace would describe as forlorn hope, at all of the force presences around him. With ears drooped and sadness and grief in his eyes, while it seemed like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. 

Yes. As far as Mace was concerned his fellow Councilors would be far better off spending their time worrying about Master Yoda. Even if he would swear that he could sometimes feel electricity surging through his body. Phantom pains in his forearm. The agony of an amputation that had yet to happen.