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Ahsoka tried.
She really, really did, though Skyguy would say she didn’t try hard enough, even though he’s a hypocrite because she knows he skipped out on at least one Temple class a week, because Master Kenobi laughed and said so the last time Anakin tried to get on her case about it.
And it isn’t that she doesn’t like Master Sinube’s lecture on the history of textiles! Only, today is already part four of a six-part lecture series, and he talks for so long without even stopping, and Ahsoka can’t stop fidgeting, and she needs to move her legs before she dies, she will die on the spot and then everyone will have to go to her funeral and cry because she’ll be dead.
She leans over in her seat, using the Force to send her stylus in Caleb’s direction. He’s not much more interested than her—she can practically see his eyes glazing over. He jumps as the stylus hits his shoulder.
“Ahsoka—”
“Caleb,” she hisses. “Cover for me!”
His face goes confused for a moment, his nose wrinkling, before he catches on, sighing.
“Ahsoka,” he says disapprovingly, and she scowls at him.
“Remember that time I saved you an extra jogan fruit puff from the kitchens?” she says before he can protest.
Caleb rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t—”
“You owe me,” Ahsoka reminds him, trying to emulate Master Kenobi’s Negotiator-face.
“And from the Nythlide Array comes a fascinating history of piqué weaves—” drones Master Sinube, and Ahsoka slips as quietly as she can out of her chair.
“See ya,” she whispers to Caleb, who shakes his head, turning back towards the lecture and pretending he doesn’t see her.
The hallways of the Temple are much more lively than the lecture hall, and Ahsoka grins, shaking her limbs out to rid them of their stiffness. The day stretches ahead of her—some days, sure, she wishes she was out on the front with Rex and the men, helping them rout the Seppies, but there’s a lot to be said for having a quiet day at the Temple in between battles.
“Good afternoon, Padawan,” says a master whose name she forgets, nodding at her as she passes. Ahsoka grins back, offering them a small wave.
“Good afternoon, Master,” she says politely—then scurries away before they realize she should be in the lecture hall.
It really is a nice afternoon, with bright sunlight cutting through the windows, and so much more interesting now that she’s out of that dusty old lecture. Maybe she’ll visit the Archives to see if Master Nu will tell her more stories about the times Anakin tried to climb the shelves as a padawan—
“Thank you for your time, Master,” comes a familiar voice from further down the hallway, and Ahsoka brightens.
“Of course, Padawan Offee,” Master Tiin says. “Your questions on dueling forms are always most insightful.”
Ahsoka grins and stifles a giggle, ducking behind a pillar as Barriss walks towards her, her boot heels clicking on the tile floor. She launches herself out, laughing as Barriss stumbles backward with a hand over her heart.
“Hi, Barriss,” she says, lacing her hands behind her back as she bounces on the balls of her feet.
“Ahsoka!” Barriss scolds her. “You startled me!”
“You didn’t sense me coming?” Ahsoka asks, shrugging one shoulder. Barriss chuckles a little at that. “Hey—are you doing anything right now? Wanna go for a walk? I thought I might visit the kitchens, or—”
Barriss’ eyes narrow, and Ahsoka knows she’s been caught. “Shouldn’t you be in your lecture right now?”
Ahsoka whines, pouting slightly. “Barriss. It was sooo boring! I couldn’t stay for another second!”
“A well-rounded education is essential for all Jedi,” Barriss says sternly, crossing her arms over her chest. “You can’t just do lightsaber training all day, Ahsoka.”
“C’mon, Barriss!” Ahsoka pleads. “We’re so rarely in the Temple at the same time—don’t you want to explore?”
Barriss chews on her lip for a moment, looking a bit reluctant.
“Alright,” she says, and Ahsoka cheers. “I was going to walk through the Room of a Thousand Fountains to see if the starflowers have blossomed. Would you like to come along?”
The Room of a Thousand Fountains is as lovely as always. There’s a blanket of calm that always seems to drape over Ahsoka’s shoulders when she’s in here, like a hug from the Force. Barriss’ face softens in a gentle smile as she looks up at the gently-falling water, filling the room with a soft tinkling that sounds like the ringing of bells.
Ahsoka watches as Barriss kneels down, brushing a finger along a friendly, curling fern. She does look more peaceful in here, her bearing lighter. It makes Ahsoka wonder, as she often does, about the end of the war. What will that be like? Will she and Barriss walk through this room as Jedi Knights, discussing their latest peacekeeping missions? Will she have a padawan? Ahsoka pictures herself—older, wiser, her lekku grown all the way past her waist—walking through this room with her own student to train.
It’s a little unnerving to think about. She sets the thought to the side, bounding over to stick her fingers under a stream of clear water running down into a small pool.
“Barriss!” she giggles, delighted. “There’s frogs in here!”
Barriss follows her towards the pool, leaning over and letting out a small “oh” of delight.
“They’re so small,” she whispers.
The frog leaps from the pond directly at them, startling Ahsoka and Barriss back. They let out twin yelps of surprise, before looking at each other and dissolving into laughter.
“He did not want us in his space,” Ahsoka says through her giggles.
“Our sincerest apologies, Master Frog,” Barriss says, as serious as if she was addressing the Senate.
They make their way slowly towards the far end of the room, making up stories as they go about the plants and their various origins. It’s nice to walk without a destination in mind, hopping over wide lilypads and smooth-carved stepping stones, lifting their hands to try and catch the parvinoths flapping slowly overhead. One of them lands on Barriss’ head, and Ahsoka wishes she had a way to capture the look of surprised excitement on Barriss’ face so she could look back at it over and over again.
“Look,” Barriss says, a smile stealing across her face as she points to a bush of yellow blossoms. “The starflowers—they did bloom.”
“They’re beautiful,” Ahsoka says, kneeling down.
“I suppose beautiful things still blossom, even during the war,” Barriss murmurs, running a feather-light finger over one petal.
They slip out the back door of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, Ahsoka practically bubbling over with the excitement of a full afternoon ahead of them.
“Where should we go now?” she asks Barriss as she bounds down the hallway. “Ooh—we could visit the lightsaber workshop—I bet Huyang is working on something cool! Or we could—oh. Oh, no.”
Barriss frowns, her eyebrows drawing together. “Ahsoka, what is it?”
Ahsoka’s eyes go wide as she recognizes the very familiar Force presence approaching. “It’s my master! He’s going to be furious I skipped out on my classes!”
Barriss’ face goes pale. “So what do we do?”
“We run!” Ahsoka hisses, catching Barriss’ hand in hers and yanking her away from Anakin’s Force presence. Barriss yelps, one hand flying up to keep her headscarf in place as they bolt down the hallway.
Ahsoka dodges bodies as she and Barriss sprint down the hallway. A few knights and masters give them startled or curious looks as they pass, and Ahsoka is pretty sure they’re getting the stink eye through a Temple Guard’s mask.
“Well, hello, Little ‘Soka,” says Master Plo as they barrel past him, amusement clear in his tone. “Aren’t you going to—”
“No time! Sorry, Master Plo!” Ahsoka calls as she sprints past him.
“Ahsoka, we should—” Barriss tries.
“In there!” Ahsoka calls, pointing at a door she knows will be unlocked. Barriss follows, and the two of them duck inside the darkened room.
“Oh, goodness,” Barriss breathes at the sight in front of them. Master Windu stands in front of a raised platform bearing a group of younglings in colorful robes, each of them singing out in joyful, if out-of-pitch, shouts.
Master Windu still has his back turned to them as he raises his hands to cut the younglings off. He sighs heavily as he turns around, fixing them both with a raised eyebrow that has Ahsoka wishing she had picked any other door.
“Padawans,” he says, his hands on his hips. “Is there a reason you have chosen to interrupt our rehearsal of Journey of the Convor?”
“Um,” says Ahsoka, wincing. “We just… love theater!”
“We do,” says Barriss quickly. “We wanted to see how rehearsals were going!”
“Or,” says a new voice on the other side of the room, and Ahsoka groans. “Maybe they’re in here because they skipped out on class and needed a hiding spot.”
“Master!” Ahsoka whines, slumping against the wall.
“I wasn’t skipping,” Barriss says quickly. “I have a free period!”
“You wanna explain yourself, Snips?” Anakin asks, his arms crossed over his chest. Master Windu watches them with a mildly amused expression, glancing between her and Anakin with interest.
“Um,” Ahsoka says, hunting for a good response. “I wanted… to further my practical education in the Temple by interacting in a meaningful manner with its inhabitants?”
She’s fairly certain Master Windu snorts quietly at that. Anakin doesn’t look impressed.
“Ahsoka, you gotta go to your classes,” Anakin says, raising a hand to silence her when she tries to interrupt. “Yes, even the boring ones. I had to do ‘em, and you do too.”
“But Master!” Ahsoka tries—she’s been having such a nice day, and the thought of going back to that stuffy lecture hall seems like the opposite of fun.
“Actually, Knight Skywalker,” says Master Windu. “I could use a hand or two. My little thespians here are having trouble with our script, so I’ll need some help during this rehearsal.”
A huge grin spreads on Ahsoka’s face as she realizes what Master Windu is saying.
“Really, Master?” Anakin asks doubtfully. “You don’t think Ahsoka should go back to class?”
“A proper appreciation of the theatrical arts is essential for becoming a well-rounded Jedi,” says Master Windu, his tone serious and dignified. “Besides—we both know how Master Sinube goes on and on about those textiles.”
Even Anakin cracks a smile at that. “Alright. You win this one, Snips. Help Master Windu with his rehearsal.”
The younglings on the stage cheer, clapping their little hands together. Anakin chuckles, throwing up his hands in mock defeat.
“Well, have fun,” he says. “I’ll see you later—”
“Oh, no, Knight Skywalker,” Master Windu says, raising one hand. “I’ll need more help than that. You’ll be staying to help us, as well.”
Ahsoka laughs, delighted, as Anakin’s face goes shocked.
“What?” he demands. “Master, I—”
“Come on, then, Skywalker,” Master Windu says, a tiny smile playing on his serious face. “Grab a script and a set of convor wings. We have work to do.”
Yeah, Ahsoka thinks, beaming. This is way better than lecture hall.