Lyn and Luca were waiting in a ship platform on the planet Myrkr. The planet was lush and green, with a beautiful sunset. Luca should have enjoyed it, but a rain had fallen hours before, and it was now cold and misty, and they were waiting for hours. He was sitting on a cargo box, bored.
"You have to learn to be a bit more patient, you know. There's a lot of waiting in-between fights during a war." Lyn, her master told him. She was standing up in her Jedi robes, watching the Clone Troops of the 167th under her command training below the platform.
"And stop sulking. I know how you feel, but there's nothing that can be done. The War is taking many lives. So now I have to take a masterless Padawan. And who knows? Maybe you'll like her." Lyn added. Their exchange was far less dignified than a master and Padawan usually were, though there was no one else around to see or hear them. Lyn liked to be informal when possible, though she always demanded respect.
"And remember... Miime's master just died. She has much more cause to feel ill at ease around us than you have to feel around her. Try to be... welcoming, yes?" Lyn finished, turning to look up at the sky, waiting for the transport vessel - the late transport vessel - to arrive with her new Padawan.
However, she had kept one information to herself. Miime was, reportedly, aloof. Strange. A prodigy, good at almost anything, though she lacked resolve and goals. Allegedly, she did not grieve her master much - at least not in the usual and expected ways of most races. Nibelungs were mysterious, their home world in the unknown regions. The Order hoped the hyper-practical Lyn could draw out Miime's latent potential.