| Exquisite flaxen hair: that was the first thing that had struck Qui-Gon as he'd allowed his eyes to linger over the figure dressed in cream coloured padawan robes. Wonderful, gloriously alive filaments of a fine, light gold colour that spiralled from a simple bronze clasp at the back of her head…flighty strands that caught the gentle morning breeze and swept to the right of what appeared to be a swan-like neck. Somehow he'd known she would be beautiful even before she had turned around to face him. For a while he'd been content to delight in her from a distance in the same way one might admire a work of art in a gallery and then, finally, after weeks of thinking about her - wondering what he might possibly say -he'd summoned the courage to speak to her. She was divine. There was no other way to describe the girl. Yes, she was beautiful: elegant and tall with a regal posture that smacked of the aristocratic, but more than that she was knowledgeable, gifted and powerful. It had soon become apparent that she knew it as well, for she had a goodly opinion of herself and an unfortunate way of making those less gifted appear unworthy of her company. It seemed that divinity came at a price. Her name was Sal-Fina Falmar. Qui-Gon had known it for years, although rarely had he been in her close company for any length of time. There was over five years between them in age and the young woman had always had her own set of equally classy, opinionated friends. The name Sal-Fina had always conjured up images of a thin, somewhat spoiled child with an almost lanky, leggy appearance and deathly pale skin. Now, whenever he gazed admiringly upon her, he could see grace instead of wiriness. The pallor remained, but had been transformed from fragility to a picture of captivation. Qui-Gon had been prepared to overlook Sal-Fina's faults, such as they were, in an attempt to recognise what lay at the root cause of them. There were times when she smiled that he gained the impression she wanted only to scream in anguish: the cold grey eyes as chilling and unforgiving as a winter's day on Hoth… Qui-Gon disliked seeing people unhappy. He hated mysteries. Sal-Fina represented the greatest mystery he had ever attempted to understand. Yet others were less understanding or willing to see beyond the beautiful, if shallow surface of the young padawan: people who he considered to be his best friends would shake their head in despair, or stay well clear of the affair. Sal-Fina was like a finely sculpted ice statue: exquisite to look at but cold to touch. "And likely to take the skin off your fingers when you do get too close." Confided Dex Berlingside to Qui-Gon as they had walked around the temple gardens one evening, the latter so utterly frustrated by everyone's lack of understanding that he had sought to calm himself with a late-night stroll. "Or melt all over you when you apply any heat." Qui-Gon had said nothing, but the thinness of his lips betrayed his annoyance. "I'm not saying it to be unkind, my friend." Dex clapped a sympathetic hand on the taller man's arm. "Ultimately you will do whatever you feel you need to do, and it's not my place to interfere with that. My opinions are not exactly important…but," he added with a note of caution, "that doesn't stop me from having opinions in the first place. Or anyone else for that matter." Jinn gave a cold little laugh. "Oh, believe me: their opinions have not gone unspoken. My own master has urged me to be cautious, although he has stopped from outright condemning my friendship with Sal-Fina. Her master does nothing but complain about me…how I'm an unwanted distraction to her pupil's studies." "And so you are." Shrugged Dex. "You know your major flaw, Qui? You're so serious about everything! There's no sense of having a little fun or being content to take things slowly. It's little wonder that the masters are concerned, really. You throw yourself into everything with such vigour that it scares people. Master Lee probably thinks you're about to propose marriage to her padawan." "And if I did, what would it matter?" Qui-Gon asked sullenly. "You've already said your opinions are not important and that only those of Sal-Fina and myself matter." Dex took a deep breath. "I'd say that firstly, you've only really known her for a few weeks. Even someone as dedicated and devoted as yourself would hesitate before taking such drastic action. Secondly, you know that the council frowns upon Jedi marriage except in certain circumstances. Thirdly, you're a padawan and they'd most likely kick you out of the order for attempting anything so dramatic. Fourthly," Berlingside grinned back; "if none of that is important there's the matter of your choice of partner to consider." "What's wrong with her?" Jinn asked, stung by Dex's sensible words. He couldn't quite get used to the idea that Dex was the one urging him to be cautious when normally it was the other way about. "Are you going to propose to her?" Dex ignored the question. Qui-Gon's shoulders dropped in defeat. "No. I had no real notion of doing so. I just feel so completely perplexed by all the criticism that seems to be aimed directly at me these last few weeks. I like Sal-Fina a lot…" Berlingside nodded, his braid bouncing jauntily against his shoulder as he did so. "That's the part that people are having problems with." He admitted. When Qui-Gon's eyes began to narrow disapprovingly again Dex tried his best to be straight with his friend, even if nobody else had the guts to do so. "Qui-Gon…Sal-Fina's a spiteful madam. She loves nobody except herself…" "I could say the same about you!" Qui-Gon retorted, this time only just managing to keep his anger at bay. "You could," agreed Dex, "but you'd be wrong. I care about my friends. I care about you: hellfire, I even care about Mace! Although I'd be grateful if you didn't mention that to him." He added conspiratorially, leaning in towards Qui-Gon as if divulging some hush-hush state secret. "Sal-Fina is…she's…I can't even begin to explain." Dex sighed, removing his cloak and spreading it on the grass. Motioning for Qui-Gon to follow suit he sat down upon the brown swathes of fabric, knowing instinctively that this would not be the last heart-to-heart they would embark upon should Qui-Gon persist in his silly dalliance with Sal-Fina. "She's damaged." Dex tapped his cranium with an index finger. "She seems perfect, doesn't she? On the surface? Incredibly beautiful, strong, quick-witted…intelligent, dare I say. And she is indeed all those things. But she's also cold, judgmental and conceited. Because she's so uniquely skilled it's her intrinsic belief that she is superior to every living Jedi. The idea has been instilled in her from an early age. That's the irony of it, really. Because if she didn't believe it then she might very well be right! Quite an interesting paradox." Dex pulled a disparaging face. "It's all Master Lee's fault if you ask me. I know we're not supposed to criticise our elders but that woman has killed off any hope Sal-Fina ever had of being normal." Despite his continuing annoyance at Dex's tirade Qui-Gon found his interest piqued by his fellow padawan's words. "How do you mean?" He asked uncertainly. "She doesn't so much believe that perfection is something that should be striven towards but that it must be obtained." Dex said simply, turning to face Qui-Gon. "She chose Sal-Fina because she recognised that she had a special gift. Tried to train her in a way that would be to her own glory, not to the benefit of the temple. Sal-Fina's not perfect, Qui, no matter how much you would like to believe it. She's been put through the shredder and come out the other side a different person. The more you try to mould an individual to how you think they should be rather than how they're supposed to be, the more they will resent it. Master Lee wants Sal-Fina to be like her, only perfect. And neither of them are. You can't create perfection from something that isn't anywhere near that standard in the first place. The more Master Lee bullies Sal-Fina into being what she wants the more she realises the girl's not up to her exacting standards. And the result is that they detest each other. How can they not? Sal-Fina stands no chance…" "All the more reason to be forgiving and charitable, I would have thought." Qui-Gon countered pointedly. "Maybe I can help her? If her master isn't prepared to understand then I can offer her support and a shoulder to lean on, if necessary." "Perhaps." Dex considered, although sounding far from convinced. In his own mind Sal-Fina was far too far gone for any kind of support. Whenever he looked at her he got the feeling of constant anxiety twisting like a knife in the girl's stomach, or a pent-up, despairing scream waiting to be released, but never was. She was all too aware that however powerful she might be, she would never be good enough for Master Lee. The woman had as good as ruined her, as a Jedi and a person. "But you're still a padawan yourself, Qui. It doesn't fall to you to take on the role of supporter: that belongs to her master." "Her master doesn't support her. You've said so yourself." Qui-Gon reminded him. "I'm just giving you a warning." Dex replied honestly. "That Master Lee will see any such benevolence as an attempt to undermine her authority over Sal-Fina which you have to agree, whether she makes a good job of it or not, is hers alone. You'll regret it Qui, as sure as night follows day. I know that you will ignore me and I also know that I'll happily be your shoulder to cry on when it all blows up in your face, as it inevitably will. If Sal-Fina's what you want, then good luck to you." He offered Qui-Gon a sincere yet troubled smile. "But please take good care because if it all goes hideously wrong you're not the only one that's going to get hurt: Sal-Fina will as well. And that is the one thing above all others that you don't want to happen, I'm sure." Was it possible to damage the already damaged, Dex wondered bleakly as he saw Qui-Gon stand once more? Had his friend become blinded by the myth of perfection, as had Master Lee? Maybe his motives were sound but that didn't mean things were any less likely to go wrong. In truth he felt sorry for Sal-Fina: like Qui-Gon he had noticed the unshed tears in her eyes and recognised them to be the result of genuine, constant hurt. Nothing she would ever do for Master Lee would be good enough: the more she tried the worse things would become. The inevitable downward spiral awaited her - it was only a matter of time. Whilst he couldn't condemn Qui-Gon's overwhelming wish to help he secretly worried that his friend would also be sucked down into the same trap, unable to help and unwilling to abandon her. Tainted by association, as it were. He himself had been so blessed with his master, who encouraged and supported him without wanting to change him in any way. His training was tailored to suit him, not the other way around. Small wonder if Sal-Fina was as fragile and unstable as a day-old ghostling. "I appreciate your words, Dex." Qui-Gon said finally, looking up towards the dusky sky. "You're about the only one who has had the courage to voice their concerns directly to me and taken the time to explain the reasons behind them. And I will think over all you have said." His blue eyes levelled to meet those of the fair-haired apprentice, and in them Dex could see only renewed determination. "But I will continue to support Sal-Fina and get to know her better, if she will let me. It's a sad day for the Jedi order when compassion towards one of our own is considered of less importance compared to any other being we have sworn to serve and protect." He acknowledged the younger padawan with a courteous nod. "Good evening to you." Dex watched his friend retrace his steps towards the exit, chewing thoughtfully on his lip as he did so. "Well, it just goes to show you." He muttered beneath his breath. "Not only squirrels like nuts…" |
 |
| If you have enjoyed this story please consider leaving feedback, no matter how short or long. Many thanks! Add Comment |
| The Myth Of Perfection By Jemmiah |