Kit Fisto sat upon his chair in the Council chambers, his brown hood draw over his tentacles while he had his eyes shut in a deep tranquil thought.

The faint sounds of the padawan’s training and Jedi Knights wandering throughout the temple rung clear with an echo, the sound meeting his ears through his serene meditation.

He sat alone in the room in contentment, relieved of his daily stress of holding the order together and dealing with trivial matters. Some may say he was happy, if not stoic.