Emily had always hated clothes shopping. While some of her friends enjoyed making a day of it - trailing from store to store, trying on dresses and tops that were never consistently sized and only ever seemed to vary in colour and price tag; Emily would tend to skip that portion of the day and make an appearance later for the food and alcohol that inevitably followed. Life experience had narrowed her own clothing selection down to the ultimate 'capsule' wardrobe - skinny jeans and a plethora of jumpers that went from thick winter knit to breezy summer cotton. Occasionally she'd go wild; changing the jumpers out for a tank top on the rare occasions when Scotland would get sunshine, or layering some tights under the jeans on particularly cold days, but otherwise her clothing rotation covered all situations. Boring to some? Perhaps. One less thing to think about? Definitely!
Part of this economic outlook was simply that she didn't have a body suited to most fashion. Emily was shaped like an ironing board. No hips or ass to fill out jeans. No chest or waist to emphasise with clinging tops. Dresses tended to just hang off her shoulders like bin bags. Boyish, her mother had always said - you'll never need to worry about sagging. The thing was, once she'd hit her twenties, Emily hadn't given it much headspace at all. It didn't seem to have a negative effect on her dating life. In her experience, most men were just thankful for someone warm and willing. Her relationships tended to fall apart on things like boundaries and expectations - never on cup size; though it was often used as a parting insult on their way out the door.
So, with all that in mind, the fact that this was the second day she'd spent trawling through rack after rack of some of the most ridiculous scraps of silks, furs and - for some unknown fucking reason - metals, that she'd ever seen, was really starting to get to Emily. She wasn't even sure half of it was clothing; some of the items fell decidedly into the realm of kinky bondage. She wouldn't be surprised if she stumbled across a gem encrusted gimp mask somewhere in amongst this stuff.
"What's the major economic output of the planet Scipio in the Albarrio system?"
Emily bit back a groan. This was another major contributing factor to her gradual loss of sanity. As if spending another day trawling through a dominatrix's wardrobe wasn't enough, Emily was now constantly being bombarded with a galactic pop-quiz. It was Pei's turn today to play quiz master, with Ben giving up around early evening the day before, after Emily decided to throw her dinner at him until he stopped.
"Something to do with money, isn't it?" Emily said, pulling out a garment that seemed to consist of nothing more than bronze-coloured chains tied to a long strip of blue scaled leather.
"Considering 'money' could be the answer for the economic output of every planet, I'm afraid you'll need to be a bit more specific," Pei said. She was sitting on a rounded cushioned chair in the corner of the room, not even glancing up from her datapad. Emily still had no idea why Pei had volunteered to sit with her for this. If anything, she was even less interested in clothes than Emily, if that were at all possible. How was she meant to help?
"I didn't mean it like that," Emily sighed. The scales had little ultraviolet flecks through them that caught the light. "I meant that they keep money there, right? Banks and stuff." Then she held up the outfit higher. "Why?" she asked, pointing to it. Pei looked up.
"Why what?" she replied, entirely unphased, like it was a completely normal item of clothing and not something fished out of a sex dungeon. "That's a Nautolan ceremonial honour guards' vestment."
"Yes, but why do you have it? It's not exactly in keeping with the whole robes and cloaks thing."
"Didn't Obi-Wan explain to you yesterday? This is the Temple's clothing selection for when we need to blend in with the general populace."
"Who had to wear this to blend in?" Emily said, her mind racing through all the Jedi she'd met so far. The idea of someone as stoic as Master Mundi - or Master Windu - having to wear something like this, had her choking back a laugh. She could just imagine them both struggling to look dignified. They'd probably manage it too, somehow.
"I think Master Fisto had an undercover mission on Glee Anselm at one point," Pei said.
"I take it back. This outfit was designed by a genius." The idea of Kit Fisto wearing this nearly shorted out her brain. Maybe Ben had joined him on that mission…Emily's mind blanked for a few seconds before rebooting.
"Anyway, you are partly correct," Pei said, as Emily blinked back into consciousness. "Scipio is governed by the InterGalactic Banking Clan. The guest list is showing their Senator will be present. Can you remember who that is?"
They had been drilling her for a week now based on the list of names they'd received. It was meant to be a small number of people, but there were well over a hundred who had accepted an invite. Which she supposed, considering there were hundreds of thousands of planets in the galaxy, was probably a small number overall, but that didn't exactly help calm Emily's nerves - or help her with remembering them all.
"Fang Zar?" she replied, just randomly pulling out the first name she could think of.
"Fang Zar is the Senator for Sern Prime. That's not even in the same sector."
Emily was about to say something very pointed and entirely inappropriate about what sector Sern Prime could be shoved in, when the door slid open and Plo Koon wandered into the room.
"Please excuse my tardiness," he said, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through the air as he bowed. "Council business unexpectedly delayed me."
"Ah, Master Koon," Pei said, standing up and setting her datapad aside. "Thank you for taking the time to join us. I'm afraid we are badly in need of any advice you can give us."
"So I see," he replied, the amusement in his voice clear as he walked over to Emily, looking pointedly at the leather and chain monstrosity still held in her hands. "This would be a bold choice indeed, for your first introduction."
"Oh I'm not thinking of wearing this!" Emily said, rushing to her own defence. She tossed the thing back onto a shelf where it landed with a rattle. "Actually, I don't think there's anything in here for me to wear. Everything seems to have either too much material to it, or far too little."
"That is why I have asked for Master Koon's assistance. There is no-one in the Temple with a greater knowledge of the current social and cultural trends in galactic fashion."
"You could say it is something of an interest of mine," Plo Koon agreed. He linked his hands together as he walked past the racks and shelves filled with clothes, his eight long fingers intertwined in front of him. Master Koon was another one of the Jedi that Emily had to try and control her staring around; at least early on. Unlike many of the others, he had immediately introduced himself, sitting down with her and encouraging her questions, entirely unphased by her fascination. In return, he asked her about Earth, about her family and her country, about the customs and culture and everything in between. She was currently writing out the story of The Lord of the Rings for the Archives, in as much detail as she could remember, which he was very enthusiastically reading. They had shared more than a few meals together talking about the world Tolkien created - he was especially enamoured with the idea of Hobbits. It was easily one of the strangest friendships she'd made so far, if only in how entirely natural and comfortable it had felt from the beginning.
"Perhaps a different approach to this task would generate more success?" he said, stopping at the end of one row, before slowly pacing his way back up. "Instead of searching for a garment to wear, why don't you describe to me what you wish your clothing to say at this event."
"What I want it to say?" Emily said, looking around the room. "Does 'I'm comfortable and modestly covered' count?"
"Well, it certainly is one set of criteria to keep in mind," he replied. Master Koon came to a stop beside her, looking down from the considerable height he had on her. It was funny; he was possibly one of the most alien of the Jedi that she had met so far, but now looking up at him, Emily barely registered the twisted loops of his external respiratory air sacs, or the thick folds and mottling of his orange skin. Instead, she looked for the tiny shift of expression in the muscles around his intricate metal eye-goggles and breathing mask. It was amazing how much he could communicate, through so little.
"You must keep in mind, however, that the clothing you choose to wear will be looked on as a representation, not just as who you are as a person, but of how you wish the galaxy to view your world and its people."
"So no pressure there then…" Emily deadpanned.
"Think of it more as an opportunity, to express outwardly all the things you love most about your home."
"That's just the thing," Emily said, running her hands along the racks of strange silks and beads and thick embroidered leather. "Earth is a big, complicated mess of people and cultures and beliefs and influences. It's a beautiful, terrible riot of colour and personality - and I'm…not. I'm just me. I don't want them to think I'm anything more than I am. And I definitely don't want any more ridiculous titles added either. It's already hard enough getting them to stop calling me 'the Mother of Humanity'."
"So you wish to wear something beautiful yet plain. Simple but complicated - while also being modest and comfortable…" Plo Koon said, after a long moment.
"Yeah. That should be easy enough, right?" Emily asked, smirking.
"Please allow me a moment, I need to cancel my other arrangements for today," Master Koon said, as he bowed and walked back out of the room.
"I'm not going to get anything else done today, am I?" Pei said, folding herself back down into her chair. "I told you, this whole thing was a terrible idea."
"Where I come from, it's rude to say 'I told you so', just so you're aware," Emily replied back.
"You still haven't answered my question," Pei said, ignoring her reply.
"What question?"
"Who is the Senator who represents the planet Scipio?" Emily looked around for the leather and chains, so she could strangle herself.
As it turned out, they only spent the better part of the day trapped inside the inexhaustible clothing racks of the Jedi's collective wardrobe. Master Koon had a laser like focus, quickly separating out a pile of suitable clothing that didn't fall within the BDSM category. Pei continued to quiz her on galactic politics, but Emily's irritation was softened by Plo Koons additional asides. He explained the cultural clothing worn by each planet, detailing how the environment and history was told in the fabrics and styles they would wear. He told her how to distinguish Alderaan from Onderon by the simplicity of the former to the intricacy of the latter. The dark, heavy brocade of the Feenix from the pale, lights silks of the Chandrila. Emily felt like she'd learnt more in one day with him, than she had in the full weeks' worth of studying prior.
Finally, just as her stomach was gradually increasing its angry grumble, Emily pulled on a dress that was so close to perfect, it nearly made her cry with relief.
"It's not exactly modest," Pei pointed out, indicating the split in the side and the gaps in the bodice.
"Couldn't it be pulled over and stitched down?" Emily said, closing over the bold length of exposed thigh with some gathered material. "It'll need to be altered to fit properly anyway."
"Yes, the droids could easily make a few adjustments. What do you think?" Master Koon asked.
"I think it looks exactly like the last light of a sunset over the sea," Emily said, looking down at the long layers of wispy organza. "It reminds me of home," she admitted.
"Then it is perfect," Plo Koon declared. Emily looked up, smiling. She dipped into a low bow.
"How can I ever thank you for your help, Master Koon?"
"I believe a meal and the chance to discuss the discovery of these creatures called 'Ents', should more than repay me."
Emily laughed. "You strike a hard bargain."