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“Shanah Tovah[1], Master Fisto!” Kit turns away from his older daughter to find the voice that calls to him, finding Zatt at from the entrance to the marketplace. Kit watches with a bemused smile on his face as the 18-year-old Nautolan padawan dodges between several Vode going about their shopping. Zatt is still wearing the tunic he usually wears when he spars, and he’s just out of breath enough that Kit would put credits on him coming straight from a sparring session with Bant. Zatt does have a bag on one arm, and Kit can see the sleeve of a white robe[2] for later though, so he doesn’t comment on Zatt’s state of dress.
“Shanah Tovah, Zatt! Where’s Bant?” Kit waves at the younger Jedi as he manages to catch up with him.
“Master Bant went ahead to your house. She said she was going to go save the challah from your husbands, or your husbands from the challah. She wasn’t exactly clear which one.”
“Zatt!” Shel’ya squealed from where she was standing beside Kit. Kit’s daughter’s hand was still securely gripped in his hand, mostly because if he let her go, Kit was certain she’d dash off again. “Zatt you’re not dressed good.” Shel’ya pronounces, and Kit can’t stop the laugh.
“She’s right you know. Did you shower before coming over?” Kit adds, and Shel’ya beams with the power only a validated five-and-a-half-year-old has. Zatt flushes.
“I was sparring with Katooni and we kind of lost track of time. But I brought a change of clothes!” Zatt holds up the bag with him. Kit grins in response, silently filling away that Zatt has been spending a lot of time with the Tholothian girl.
“You’re supposed to wear white! Aba says it’s important.” Shel’ya chirps at Zatt, who gives her a fond smile.
“I see you’re wearing your white today.” Zatt crouches and bops a finger against Shel’ya’s nose, which she rubs in irritation. Kit gives a fond chuckle.
“Putting clothing on was a battle this morning, let me tell you.” A battle that had taken Kit, Rex, and Bacara to fight, and even then, they had been forced to call in reinforcements. But it was a battle well worth fighting if Kit does say so. Shel’ya is in a plain white top decorated with a little bit of lace around the sleeves that one of Bacara’s Novas had made as a present for her. It matches Kit’s white robe for the day. Her pants come down past her knees, and they’re a white fabric decorated with the colors of both Rex and Kit’s battalions. Her shoes have little white bows on them.
“Ms. Sabé helped me pick out something white that was still comfy!” Shel’ya chirps, and Zatt laughs, before taking Shel’ya’s free hand in his.
“Well then, we should probably get going, right? Master Bant and Bacara will be so mad if we’re late.” Zatt swings Shel’ya up, and the younger Nautolan gives a cackle of glee as the three of them make their way through the marketplace. They walk down the market for a way, swinging Shel’ya between the two of them. Kit takes the moment to enjoy the space he’s in. He has always enjoyed the marketplace here on Concord Dawn, it’s full of the feelings of love poured into nearly everything created by the Vode, and the happiness and never-ending wonder those same men feel when they handle what their brothers have created. The joy is infectious. Zatt can feel it too, given the way he’s reflecting the happiness back out into the world.
“Bees Roger!” Shel’ya squeals as they come to the right stall, and attempts to wiggle out of Kit’s grip again. He gives a fond eye roll and hands her over to Zatt.
“Why don’t you guys go pick out some apples?[3] The Almakian ones if they have them, Corellian if not!” Kit calls to them as the two younger Nautolans head off toward where the imported fruit stall is.
Don’t lose my daughter! Kit sends through the Force after Zatt, who simply sends the impression of an eye roll back. He’s very much still a teenager in many ways.
“What would you like today.” Bees Roger deadpans at Kit, his expressionless face still managing to convey disinterest. Somewhere along the line, Shel’ya had labeled all of the Rogers after what they produced, and it had stuck around.
“Do you happen to have any of the Opaline Honey you were perfecting left? It’s a family favorite.” Kit comments.
“Roger Roger.” Bees Roger nods, and then he takes a glass jar and begins to bag it up. Kit reaches into his pocket, counting out the credits to pay the droid. “I have to say, your family has great taste. People tell me this is my best one.” Roger accepts the credits and hands the bag over.
“It certainly is.” Kit grins back at him, before heading over to where Shel’ya is certainly arguing with Zatt over the correct amount of fruit they’ll need.
---
“No, no, let it poof for another five minutes!” Rex finds himself saying as he reads the recipe in front of him. It’s written in what is clearly Kit’s handwriting, except that what they have is a holo on their datapad of the recipe written on a separate datapad. Kit had confirmed before he left that the original recipe had to be prepared underwater and that he had adapted one that could be consumed by humans during his padawan days.
“Let it what for another five minutes?” Bant sends him a look of outrage from the other side of the kitchen, where she was about to move the dough.
“It says in the recipe to let it poof for twenty minutes. It’s only been fifteen.” Rex gestures to the holo in front of him.
“A real scientific process, the poofing.” Bacara chimes in from where he’s seated in a chair against their kitchen wall, Natua sitting on his lap and trying to grab at his beard. His voice is totally deadpan, and it reminds Rex of three years of sarcastic messages in the CC chat. Rex finds a grin tugging at his lips, despite his best intentions.
“This is one of the most chaotic recipes I have ever seen!” Bant protests. “Who writes poof? Do they mean rise?” She asks, her voice not wavering from its vaguely incredulous tone.
“Kit.” Both Rex and Bacara chime in at the same time from opposite times of the room. Rex absolutely does not mouth ‘jinx’ at his husband. At all.
“Yeah, that tracks,” Bant responds with a sigh. Rex watches as Bacara rolls his eyes, then bounces their Natua on his leg, the year-old Nautolan giggling with pure delight. There’s a moment where their youngest daughter has all the attention in the room, as Bacara makes cooing sounds at her and bounces her up and down to a gentle rhythm. Rex coos at her from a distance and watches out of the corner of his eye as Bant smiles fondly at the three of them. The moment is broken when the timer that Rex had set for the poofing goes off, and Bant moves back to the dough, grabbing the bowl off of the counter.
“What’s next?” She asks Rex, who looks down and reads off of the recipe.
“It says to take the dough and to roll it into one long string of dough about 3 inches wide.” He reads off, and Bant nods, removing the dough from the bowl and dropping it on the cutting board in front of her. She begins to knead the dough, folding it over on itself and pulling it outwards, creating a narrower and longer shape with each movement of her hands.
“We can help, you know,” Bacara calls out from his chair, where he is holding Natua up a little higher, so that she can tangle her hands in his shirt, resting her little lekku against his shoulder.
“Ba’vodu, please just hold your baby.” Bant deadpans back at him. Because she did spend time training with Kit though, she chimes in with an addition at the last minute. “I am rescuing this challah from you, do not make my job any harder.”
“Hey!” Bacara verbally bursts into a protest, even as he avoids shifting Natua.
“After you’ve got it into the right thickness, it says to start from the outside a coil inwards, until you have a half-sphere[4] of dough.” Rex reads out in hope of cutting off their prior chain of thought. The chuckles he gets make it clear the effort did not go unnoticed, but they both humor him.
“Honestly, this recipe is so ridiculous.”
---
Kit pulls out a chair between Bant and Rex’s chairs at their table, sliding in. It was a bit of a squeeze to fit Shel’ya’s booster seat, Natua’s high chair, and seats for Bant and Zatt around the table, but looking around at his whole family sitting around the table, Kit doesn’t mind one bit
“Shanah Tovah.” Kit states, pecking Rex on the cheek.
“Shanah Tovah, Master!” Bant responds, reaching over kit’s head to set the freshly baked round challah at the center of the table. There are plates of sliced apples and bowls of honey between each pair of chairs, and the main course of fish[5] that Rex’s Torrent boys had dropped off rests next to the challah.
“And a good year to you too!” Bacara comments from where he’s sitting on the other side of the table next to Zatt and Natua. He’d never gotten entirely comfortable with even the spoken portions of Nautila, choosing instead to use a translated version of their phrases in basic.
“Aba.” Shel’ya interrupts from where she’s sitting on Zatt’s other side, between him and Rex. “Aba that challah is the wrong shape.” She protests as she settles into her booster seat, crossing her arms to express just how displeased she is. Kit laughs, and Zatt jumps in to explain before he can.
“Shel’ya, the challah is round because a year is round too – it starts in the same place it began, every year.” He says, punctuating his last two words with pokes to her forehead, and she giggles and tries to swat them away.
“So, it’s because today is a special day?” She continues her questioning as Bant sits down in her seat between Kit and Natua. “Like why we all have to wear white?”
“Yes. The white clothing represents our rebirths in the new year.” Zatt starts, then visibly realizes he’s talking to a five-and-a-half-year-old and then starts again. “Because in the new year, we each have a chance to try to be good again.”
“And the apples and honey are so the new year is really sweet!” Shel’ya chimes, clearly excited to know that fact. There are giggles all around the table in response to that, and Natua laughs when everyone else does, so Kit misses whatever Zatt responds with. Instead, he simply basks in the happiness everyone is feeling, letting the Force carry it through him, and he doesn’t even try to stop the grin that rises to his face in response to being there with the ones he loves.