No Angel

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Relief was her immediate reaction when warmth enveloped her. Kiskla (NOT CHISEL) rested her forehead against his chest when pressure was applied, and she curled her own arms inward, elbows tucked together against her stomach. She felt like a peanut.

His graciousness was unwarranted. Kiskla’d been her own affliction, protecting her concealments for fear of affecting masses. Maybe she was putting too much importance on herself, considering people would use her emotional states as a tool to undermine the greater scheme of things. True, she was a pinnacle of The Order and it’s head administrator, but there could be others. She’d replaced former Grandmasters, and there certainly would be others to look at. That, or the Silver Jedi would swoop in and cradle whatever was broken in her wake. This was a fear she’d not shared for fret of betrayal; which happened more and more. Father, Sardun, Apparine, temporarily (very temporarily) Matteo. All deserted by choice.
Prerogative by humanity — being a human was a strange and dangerous thing indeed—despite the blaring obviousness of death and imperfection, one could easily build on themselves until they felt immortal.
That was a problem Kiskla had always faced; and one Marcello would likely always suffer from as he had indicated earlier by her choice to go to Dagobah on the off-chance something went foul for her. The kiffar was good at understanding that she needed to protect others, but in considering this she forgot that she was just as subject to fatalities. It wasn’t arrogance exactly, perhaps more akin to thinking of the big-picture. Her self-perception was so morbidly skewed that she considered herself invincible and far more capable of handling stressful situations than any other. Heads first, thoughts later. Because of this build up over time, and her most time-consuming and recent activities, Kiskla didn’t often feel delicate, slight though she may be. The sudden feeling of fragility was credited to two things:

1.) [member="Marcello Matteo"]’s undeniably massive architecture
2.) Realization of mortality

She moved from resting her forehead against him, to her cheek; her blonde hair crinkling with the pressure and strange patterns it was being forced to fold into.
"I'm tired, Marcello." Kiskla admitted, words she'd not uttered in a very long time. She'd been relying on The Force for sustenance for over a month, and she was exhausting her abilities. Especially after the expulsion. The time back from Dagobah had been restless, and she'd been meditating again to re centre her balance. Sleep hadn't been on the horizon for quite some time, and it was not only felt but beginning to show. Prodigal with the Force though she may be, there were basics that had gone unmet. She needed to eat and sleep, and avoid the mental stress that this evening had suddenly bubbled to the surface. That, and the constant motif of The Republic’s failure was prevalent on anything she ever read, or considered, or was reminded of. She wasn’t a politician, but she was majorly tied to the influencers of the government. Her thoughts needed refreshment, she needed a new, daring perspective before The Order was washed away completely.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello released a soft, long breath. He...couldn't really relate to [member="Kiskla Grayson"] being tired, but he could certainly understand. Further more, he knew that everything on the horizon... Well, the galaxy and this war had not stopped in the woman's absence. He'd felt much the same after returning from his own self-exile, but he quickly understood that he was needed out there, attempting to make a difference. Plus he didn't basically almost die during his exile. Well...perhaps you had to put a word to it... "You need to eat and rest." It was actually vitaly important that she eat first though he doubted she'd likely be able to consume much. Her body needed to have something to burn off while she slept. "And then you need to eat again, most likely."

Loosening his hold of Kiskla slightly, he delivered one more kiss to her forehead before offering her his right arm with every intention of taking her to her quarters. And...leaving her there in peace against the general protesting of certain areas of his body.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

As usual, practicality took reign over [member="Marcello Matteo"]’s decision-making abilities. His discernment was riddled with analytical assessment — quite the opposite to any of Kiskla’s innate design. It was ridiculously useful, and not the first time he’d operated on logic.

Whether or not he was suggesting she eat twice because of her appetite, or of necessity, she couldn’t quite peg. But this sensibility brought a small smile to her face, and she adjusted her position to take his limb.

“Could just stab a nutrition IV into my veins.”

Thankfully, it was still late on the planet and most people on this level of the building were locked away in their own quarters, be it for work or otherwise. What it meant, was there would be little spectators to observe the linkage of Jedi. Not that Marcello minded public displays, he’d breached that foray on Mandalore and again in the hangar on Anaxes. Still, it was a cause of concern for Kiskla. Not because she was ashamed but because then Marcello could be a liability — a potential target for destruction. That, and she was worried some may consider having emotional attachment as a weakness, a hole in leadership — despite her proof of stoicism to this point.

Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but when Kiskla had sent the message to Marcello saying she wanted to tell him something in person, that which had yet been withheld (poor opportunity), she hadn’t anticipated him to be so…readily available what with being in self-exile and all. Anaxes was the epicentre of the Republic, a most unlikely place for someone who was purposefully distancing themselves to be. “What are you doing on Anaxes anyways?"

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello smirked slightly at [member="Kiskla Grayson"]. "Don't tempt me." He recalled the last time their interactions had involved a needle. Funny for him, but he was fairly certain she hadn't exactly enjoyed the situation. As they entered the corridor, Marcello's thoughts didn't even approach whether or not someone would see. Maybe Kiskla was...too involved in her own activities to realize, but their relationship was about the worst kept secret in the Jedi Order by now. Marcello knew that anybody that even had the energy or time to worry about it...probably were useless anyways.

Kiskla's next question did remind him that he'd not even...really spoken to her much since Ansion. "I returned with the rest of our forces during the redeployment from Alderaan. I remained longer than intended due to a variety of meetings with Intel." Meetings wasn't really the correct word, perhaps. They were outright counter-intelligence debriefings followed by operational debriefings from activities he executed during his exile at their behest. There wasn't much to say on the matter, and if he was keeping it from Kiskla, it was only because he'd been instructed not to speak about it until the information was declassified. "I'm returning to the Order, but I have yet to decide in what fashion."

That wasn't really what he had meant to say. He hadn't decided what interested him most, but he was fairly certain he wasn't about to volunteer to oversee a Temple. That wasn't the type of work he was built for, ideal for. Marcello remained every bit devoted to the security of those in need. His duties would always keep him on the move. He would continue to leave teaching younglings how to lift rocks to others. It was a critical duty...just not one for him.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Of course Kiskla was elated at the announcement that Marcello was removing himself from his exile state, and rejoining the Order’s movement. In fact, relief was likely evidenced in kinetic responses she wasn’t wholly aware of. Part of the reason she was so tired as the lack of masters and support that was available — she’d disbanded the council in an attempt to spread out the load, but the response hadn’t been as responsive as predicted. Jedi still waited for permission, and to be instructed what to do. Marcello though? He found gaps and plugged them. Useful. There’s that analytical and logical side again!

The citadel was mostly full of long hallways, and had migrated a lot of political offices into the building. Certain areas were still under construction for expansion purposes, but the living areas were not attached to the workspaces. Many politicians were working around the clock on campaigns, working to bring support to The Republic and rarely found time to leave their offices — in fact, the soft sounds of typing followed the pair down the corridor. Every bit of the hardware was necessary to make sure the clog continued to rotate. With the successes of the One Sith (both perceived and actualized) some planets were wary of the amount of protection and benefits The Republic could provide.

Marcello’s reply was timely, as they had so conveniently and super-realistically reached the lift that would take them down a level — the same level as the adjacent hangar [member="Marcello Matteo"] had recently sprung from.

She stopped at the door, and slipped her arm free to face him. The movement and pressure sent a little physical reminder that there should be no sudden movements — but she refrained from a pathetic wince. The doors chimed open, and steps brought her in.

“You’re out of your exile.” Kiskla commented, stating the obvious — but somehow putting all the words together made her feel better about it. And it was more real than something they’d not address, as they..had a terrible tendency to do. A small smile crept into her lip line and gave it a gentle tug upward as the doors sealed. “Does this mean you’re a born Jedi whether you like it or not?”

For support, the fatigued female leaned against the lift’s doors. It wasn’t as glassy and architecturally attractive as the one on Ahto had been. Annexes was a fortress world, and functionality came before design. Down it went. “What did you do to reach this decision?”

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello's eyes gazed directly into [member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s white orbs. He wasn't sure whether or not he would...ever...refer to himself as a born Jedi, but he could appreciate the insinuation. Leaning against the wall of the lift, the large Jedi Master gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I think I just realized that no matter where I go and what I do...I'm hard-wired to help those in need wherever and whoever they may be. I've always known that being a Jedi has nothing to do with organizational allegiances. However, it took being on the outside for some time to fully understand and appreciate the strength the Jedi Order ideal still has in various areas of the galaxy."

Pausing, Marcello managed a thin smile despite how corny he sounded. "Whatever reputations the Order garners...it is conceived of only out of the actions of its members. I just could no longer justify pretending like I was not a part of that simply because of largely political disagreements with certain leadership figures. Whether I belong here or not is another matter, but I'm here just the same. One day someone is going to ask where I was in the Jedi Order's biggest time of modern need. I can't in good conscience let that answer be that I was in exile because I thought the ideal of the Order was too good for me."

Taking a couple of steps closer to Kiskla, he lightly placed his hands on her hips and smiled warmly at her. "So I guess...I didn't do much, I just allowed myself to see the heart of the galaxy for what it really was. A ridiculous, fragmented mess. Besides...I'm kind of sweet on the Order's Chief Administrator." Marcello offered the woman in his arms a playful wink before leaning back against the wall of the lift.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

When he approached, she adjusted her arms for him to rest his palms against her hips, and she loosely reciprocated by placing her own hands against his wrists. He answered her, and she smiled happily at his final comment. The kind of smile that happened often when an ounce of flirtatious humour passed between them. It wasn’t just the curl of her lips that manifested, but complemented by a wrinkle of her nose and shrug of her shoulders. Although he made her happy by both returning and being humorous, there was also an element within her that stirred at his earlier commentary. It had bothered her while [member="Marcello Matteo"] was away, and he brought it up again.

The elevator buoyed slightly, before it dinged indicatively.

Although still pensive, she stepped from the elevator into the main foyer.
“Too good for you.” She repeated, shaking her head slightly. She recalled him saying on Yinchorr that she wouldn’t want his actions reflecting on her organization, and once again, he was demoting himself against the ideal of a utopian Order. She didn't like that, she loathed it when people thought less of themselves than should be -- the dwelling on the past, etcetera; whatever hiccups. Marcello especially, considering she thought so highly of him. The parallel was stark. “Why do you keep saying that?” Maybe he’d have felt differently if she’d been honest with him from the start. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to leave, had to shoulder those burdens in known that he really wasn’t the worst in the bunch. Exile was a very real consideration for her, and if someone found out that wanted to force her from her position, it would be a very real punishment.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello followed [member="Kiskla Grayson"] into the main corridor, arching a curious brow at her query. He'd not said anything that wasn't, quite simply, true, and he certainly was not seeking any element of compassion or pity. "I keep saying it because it is true, Kiskla. I'm a flawed individual. I understand that my life is one of continuous effort, work towards being better." Offering the alluring woman a casual shrug of his shoulders, he gently touched the side of her left cheek before dropping his hand and guiding them along the remainder of their path towards her quarters. "The moment we accept what we are...is the moment we cease to make forward progress, to be better than the day before."

It was just...how he lived his life. There wasn't really anything else he felt he could say about it. "Do you know what I mean?"

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

"I guess so." She determined, although added and admittance to the tail end of the resolution as they crossed the streets to the counter area where guests of the senate and likewise were accommodated "---I just, I don't know. I don't like doubt. You're the most capable person I know, but I guess that's because you do challenge yourself. I don't know." She shrugged and adjusted her walk to knock against him before their footsteps eventually brought her to the designated numeration of her quarters.

"I just don't want you to ever feel...less than you are." She shook her head and leaned against the doorway for a moment, exhaling sharply "Strive to be better, that's fine, but .." she winced slightly, forcing herself to be more verbal than usual with her thoughts, considering what she'd withheld thus far. This conversation wasn't really about them, or about her, but since it was her speaking from her perspective. Kiskla wasn't finished: "You're more than I could ask for as is." And it was true. [member="Marcello Matteo"] could have shunned her after all she'd lied to him about, and os many other things on countless occasions, yet he repeatedly made room for her. And he contributed to the Order on a magnitude unmatched by other Masters. Save for Merrill perhaps, what with his retrieval of artifacts and whatnot.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello probably wouldn't have agreed with [member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s internal musings, but her comments brought a thin smile to his face. As they arrived at her quarters, the Naboo native exhaled softly and took Kiskla's hands in his own. "Kiskla. I will always struggle and strive to be better...not more just...better." In that moment, he realized there was still much he'd yet to tell Kiskla. She knew the finer points, of course, but there were small things that just escaped his mind until moments like these. "My parents weren't super influential people on Naboo. We lived a simple life, but my father never allowed me to settle for anything but the best in terms of performance. He was basically a terrorist when he coached my childhood shockball team. It's just part of who I am now."

Still smiling, Marcello leaned in and gave Kiskla a brief kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Kiskla. For just...being you. I meant every word I said to you on Mandalore. I just hope I never make you doubt the reality and gravity of my emotions." Whether or not she'd made him doubt them in the past during fleeting moments was irrelevant. He upheld her because he believed in everything that she was and attempted to do. Marcello's only real goal was to be there for Kiskla in every way he knew possible...even if it meant a little tough love from time to time. Palming open the door to her quarters, he allowed his smile to transform into a subtle smirk. "I'll bring you something to eat, but you need rest. There is much to bring you up to speed on in the morning."

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

It made sense to want to be better, she could appreciate that. His counter to her less comment brought a little more understanding to the fretting female. When he touched on his childhood, Kiskla smiled at the analogy. This was the first time Marcello had made any recollection of his pre-Army years. Even during the army, she didn’t have many insights. Sure there were records and files, but there were some things she didn’t want to read into. If Marcello wanted to tell her, he would. Otherwise, it felt strange investigating on her own.

“Then my thanks to your father.” His father was the coach though? That’d be rough on multiple accounts. Kiskla couldn’t imagine her own parent being involved in her adolescent years, much less pushing her to do better on a field. He’d taught her to shoot, but that was about it for father-daughter bonding.

The door beside her slid open and Kiskla slouched slightly. She didn’t like the idea of Marcello leaving, it had been a long time since she’d seen him — but he suggested he’d be back. And with food. So, that was a double plus. AND! There was the promise of more things to know in the morning. That was one thing about her position that she did like, she was usually quite informed — which helped fuel that curious side of her. It was also likely wise of him to go unaccompanied to get anything — she wasn’t keen on having to answer to anything just yet, and the more people knew she was back, the more conversations she’d have to field. Oddly enough, she was feeling rather antisocial right now.

She removed her hands from his massive grip, taking a backwards step toward the fairly bare room. Fingertips gripped the collar of her jacket, drawing it to a close before she paused to catch [member="Marcello Matteo"] before he went off being the best guy ever. Food guys, food. “What was your team name?”

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello had to laugh slightly at [member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s comment about his father. "Yeah. I'm sure he would have liked you." Anyone that even so much as dared to give Marcello a hard time was basically loved by his father. Well...that and the fact the elder Matteo no doubt would have approved of his son being involved with the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, albeit confused. Beyond that, Marcello couldn't say he had much of any real relationship with his father outside of the very much business-relationship of the father coach and son athlete. Story for another time.

Before he could go too far, Kiskla asked about his team's name. He'd been a part of so many as a child. Kids shockball wasn't...really anything like the adult version. The shock delivered by the ball was significantly reduced, and there were strict rules regarding equipment and interaction between players. That all melted away by the secondary school years and by the time Marcello reached the collegiate level...well that was pretty much identical to professional shockball. In the past, Marcello had wondered what his life would be like had he continued to play. Full of riches, no doubt. He did doubt that he'd have a girlfriend any more attractive than Kiskla. Mostly because that probably wasn't possible. "The Reapers."

A pause.

"Kind of dark for a kid's team huh? Don't worry, I won't force our children to play shockball." While he really wanted to stay to see the length of Kiskla's reaction, Marcello turned and proceeded back towards the lift to access the level containing the mess hall.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

At the suggestion that Marcello's father would have liked her, she smiled. That was a neat thought, something that almost made their relationship normal; the kind of normal where one met the parents for dinner and whatnot. Kiskla doubted she could return the sentiment in-kind. Her dad could possibly like Marcello if he wasn't aware of Master Matteo being a Jedi. He loathed Jedi -- hence Kiskla's strained relationship with the Kiffar Sheyf.

“Wow--" Kiskla was in mid-reaction to the team name when Marcello suggested offspring. Thank galaxies he wasn't looking because her jaw not only dropped, but her eye legitimately twitched at the inference. Kids. Little Grayson-Matteos running around? She was just getting over the idea of their relationship being public, let along tangible evidence of a swollen belly and miniature humans waddling about. Thankfully, she didn't get too worked up because she appreciated the reality of their lives. They were busy-- and Marcello had a hard enough time keeping his promise of being safe to her. Let alone her and a.. Wait. He'd said children. Plural. More than one?! Those dynamics were foreign to Kiskla, who was an only child. This was a hundred percent a conversation for a different time. When she too was less busy, and perhaps had worn white. Hah. Idiot; opening the floodgates of future thinking.

He was quite far gone now, and she turned in to the room. It wasn’t very home-y — more like a hotel room. Which was appropriate, considering it was mostly a recycled guest quarters. Though she was the one occupying it most of the time — everyone had their designated locations — just in case. What’s more, she didn’t have a very domesticated spirit to dedicate to any sort of decorating. What she did have though, for the first time in her life, was a weary spirit.

She moved to a mirror erected in the main room, waving her hands for the lights to come on. It wasn't entirely a vanity glance, but she hadn't actually seen the physical change from the Force purge she'd conducted on herself. She'd only felt the burning sensation and temporary blindness. The white that looked back at her was startling -- yet somewhat captivating; a mark of her survival. She leaned in, wondering if it would ever fade or if the pale irises she now bore were permanent. Fingertips drummed against her lower lip as she released her final hold of The Force; now that she was in the seclusion of her own quarters. The black veil surrounded the white in a stark contrast and she frowned, stepping back. Kiskla then reached up to her collar and peeled her over jacket off, palming the door to the closet open. It was mostly bare, when compared to her wardrobe on Kiffu. It had only been a few seconds, but the chill of the room which had gone unoccupied for a few weeks was already biting her the exposed flesh of her arms. She exchanged her jacket for an oversized sweater, and pulled that over her tank. Immediately a teeny bit better — being a desert child made her hypersensitive to any sort of chill. Even if it was from a hollow room.
Within a fragment of moments, she had liberated her legs and feet too and dove beneath the comforter, which was surprisingly down considering the fortress-style of the rest of the citadel. Politicians appreciated their comfort, and Kiskla wasn’t one to complain. What she didn’t like, however, was the feeling of useless expectancy. [member="Marcello Matteo"] had strongly suggested that she rest, but she didn’t like just curling up and waiting for him to bring her nutrition. That was too stale for her — she demanded mobility. To move. In fact, strangely enough, she’d almost not joined the Jedi for fear they were too stagnant. She’d told Darron she didn’t like to be bored — and that had not been an issue this far. Aside from the constant. True, the routine changed from time to time when it came to details, but the overarching sentiment was the same.People were lost, wandering, feeling down. Her elbows rested on the blankets that covered her thighs as she pressed her palms to her face. She’d not wanted to be the chief administrator — she’d denied it twice and was rooting for Master Watts to take the position back. Apparently his tenure had been a time of bliss. Maybe she was letting everyone down by holding this position, instead of letting someone better take over—someone more honest, anyways. Less divided and curious. Ergh — her hands pulled from her face and through her hair, shaking away the potential for discouragement. It was the seed for isolation — that was for certain.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Fortunately...Marcello managed to keep his thoughts from lingering on his 'joke' for any extended period of time. He couldn't even imagine trying to bring a child into the lives that he and [member="Kiskla Grayson"] maintained. That probably would have been...supremely irresponsible of them.

The familiar chime of the lift arriving at the intended floor was a welcome relief to such thoughts. Stepping off, he moved with purpose towards the mess hall that, honestly, was not overly crowded at the particular hour. Naturally...being around food made him exceedingly hungry, so he ended piling food on two trays. Occassionally, a worker or two would throw a curious glance in his direction. The curiosity, however, seemed to diminish almost entirely as their eyes tracked up its large frame. You would think he was a much more recognizable figure around the Republic on sheer mass alone, but he wasn't exactly one to be in the limelight. Even during operations, he tended to devote himself to the tasks that...just needed attention rather than the critical, impressive feats that already saw a half dozen Jedi attempting to accomplish.

Once he'd collected a reasonable assortment of meats, fruits, vegetables and some water and juice, the Jedi Master exited the mess hall and returned to the lift. The total elapsed time he was separated from Kiskla had been maybe...fifteen complete minutes. Given the fact that his hands were full, Marcello finessed the activation of the door with the Force. At this point, knocking seemed unnecessary.

As he stepped inside, the door automatically closed behind him, and Marcello made his way towards the desk to set down one of the trays. Making his way to Kiskla's sleeping chambers, he brought her one and smiled thinly. "We're so domestic." A comment that really only indicated he was bringing her food in bed...like a normal couple?

They definitely didn't know how to do that.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Kiskla’s legs had been drawn toward her chest in a vain attempt to stay awake. She had a lot to consider behind violet curtains, and after the inaugural moments of isolation, her mind had begun to drift into a lulling area of comfort. Her idea of having knees up, tensing her core or whatever, meant that her cheek ended up resting against her cap. Eyelids fluttered open though at the sound of the opening door and other sounds of interaction. Usually, she wasn’t a light sleeper, but in this instance, she hadn’t exactly been sleeping — just resting.

Legs extended when [member="Marcello Matteo"] emerged, and she dropped her knees to make room for the delightful present. Her throat burned still, though it was a lot better than it had been after the incident itself, but the idea of swallowing solid food was a little scary. She’d stick to some of the softer stuff for now — and be strangely tempted by the idea of a nutrient IV.

“And so well practiced at it.” Kiskla murmured, returning the smile for one of her own — it was initially humorous but edged with an element of wan desire. They weren’t well-practiced at any sort of established norm at all. Even for the lives they lead, they had no scheduled time for this or that, it was mostly sporadic and whenever the opportunity allowed it. Never predetermined, aside from Yinchorr — that had been purposeful. She’d considered the idea of domestication once or twice, but it wasn’t in her cards. She’d never actually cooked a meal for herself in her life — sure heated a few cans of this or that in whatever jedi pack survival kit was supplied, but nothing worth sharing. “Thank you” she concluded, picking at the folded proteins. Despite the war effort, the provisions still hadn’t been affected and were wholly edible.

Usually, a pile wouldn’t be anything to trifle with. Tonight though, the idea of consuming was far from her frame of mind — or, rather, it was in her mind but not aligned with the physical. A few bites in and she’d miserably discovered that her taste buds had also been scalded — like when someone’s drink is too hot. The flavours weren’t overwhelming (or even underwhelming for that matter) — simply not really there. Therefore, whatever was the softest and most provisional for some sort of vitamin intake was what she picked out; the tedious activity of chewing being rather boring when the flood of flavours was void. If she was going to get through this, and fulfill the purpose of what this was for — storage to be burned off, fuel, whatever — she’d need to be distracted.

“You said there were updates,” she broke the momentary silence by poking at the non-romantic sentiment that had been delivered earlier. Perhaps she could be romantic, if she weren’t so distracted by her perpetual curiosity and want to know. Her next sentence was a hopeful suggestion, without an outright declaration that she was not enjoying one of her prior favourite pastimes. “Do they all have to wait until morning?”

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello afforded Kiskla a casual nod as his smile slowly dissipated. As she chewed a few pieces tentatively, Marcello went to retrieve a chair and pulled it over to the edge of the bed. Ordinarily, he would have just kicked off his shoes, removed his jacket and climbed in, but he was still a little grungy from working on his starfighter. It seemed at that very instant as if the lingering aroma of grease resurfaced to his nostrils. He'd make this stay brief for both their sakes. [member="Kiskla Grayson"] needed to go to sleep even if he forced her brain to be flooded with melatonin to make it happen.

As he gazed at Kiskla, Marcello quickly ascertained that she either didn't have an appetite or was, perhaps, preoccupied with something else. Her abrupt inquiry about the updates he referred to answered the question. For whatever reason, Kiskla was either not hungry or not enjoying the food. It was like looking at an entirely different person.

Allowing the corners of his lips to curl upward into a thin smile, the large Jedi gently shook his head. "They do not. Most of the updates are not exactly related to the Jedi, however. The Senate recently passed a bill to increase military spending even further. There have been whispers amongst the Senate and Military Leadership of the creation of a new unit designed at taking a more aggressive posture on a continuous basis. You may know the individual that appears to have been tapped to lead the effort of forming the unit - used to command one of the Praxeums. Something...Centurion or whatever, I believe." Clearly, Marcello knew nothing of Kiskla's interactions with Caid or Cameron Centurion. In fact, he didn't even know Cameron Centurion existed.

Carrying on, Marcello arrived at the more important aspect. "I think the Senate has also been discussing the potential for reforming the Republic Government. I do not know that they've come upon an exact solution on how, exactly." Waving a dismissive hand, Marcello concluded his remarks. "These were all discussed in closed sessions anyways." Asking Marcello how he gained access would have been pointless. "Oh. I believe the Senator for Alderaan has resigned their position to spend more time tending to Alderaan's current...situation." Exhaling softly, Marcello shook his head. "There are still people there. Resisting. Trying to survive under Sith rule." That wasn't totally accurate, Marcello was fairly certain the Sith had yet to make drastic changes on the planet. "I intend to try and make contact with rebel elements in existence there before the Sith's hold has been...solidified."

There it was. Marcello's intent to be on the move yet again.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

With [member="Marcello Matteo"] in a chair, and her on a mattress she almost felt like it was deja vu to the Healer’s Circle all over again. But her plan worked, while she listened, she chewed and followed the other mundane tasks of consumption. Enough to plough through.. a quarter of what had been offered. Really nothing in comparison to her usual capacity.

“Caid Centurion.” Kiskla confirmed, mid-chew. It was really weird that he was back among Republic ranks — but it had been what his father had wanted, in the long run. Or something — she wasn’t sure of Cameron’s motives ever, but she’d given her word and had to uphold her end of the bargain after he shared his insights with her.

To the point about the government, she couldn’t be silent. “Whatever they come up with surely can’t be worse than the crippled structure they have now.” Kiskla murmured in response, finding an opening between sentences as she pushed pieces of orange around on her plate. “I had someone from the Black Suns reach out to me about Chancellor Popo being corrupt and accusing him of having a hand in organizing this war for a little more cash.

I’m sure there’s an infochant somewhere dying for a pick-me-up job that the senate will assign to look into that.”

She moved the tray from its rest to beside her, she was done with it now. Despite how appetizing it all looked. The hems of her sleeves folded into her palms and she looked over at Marcello. She didn’t know the history between him and the exiled Princess of Alderaan — either of them — should she, perhaps Kiskla would have been a little jealous. Even if there wasn’t anything there, the initial reaction could be pursed lips. Anyways. “Alderaan definitely doesn’t want The Sith there. So there goes all those promises Shara shared with you. Does that mean you’ll be touching down on Alderaan directly? Do you have a team in mind?”

 

[Marcello Matteo]

Marcello was largely silent with regard to Kiskla's statement about the naval officer's name. It meant nothing to him, so he elected to focus his brain cells on something he had an actual comment about. "The only person I trust less than a politician is a member of the Black Sun." It was all he could really say on the matter though. Marcello did not know Popo on a professional or personal level. Yes, he'd heard the rumors about tactical actions taken, but he didn't really believe in judging someone in the hindsight of 20/20.

When Kiskla set aside her food, Marcello made a few lazy motions with his left hand to levitate the tray into the air and send it back over to the table next to his completely untouched tray. [member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s last comment confused him. Alderaan wanting the Sith on their world was actually entirely irrelevant to anything any member of the One Sith had said to him. The only claim ever made was that they worked to improve the society, not destroy it. War was war...neither side was innocent in the destruction they were raining down on the galaxy. Marcello didn't do what he did because he thought he had some moral high ground. He merely fought for the right of citizens to choose. Nobody on Alderaan had elected to secede to the One Sith...it was a forced move.

"Don't be myopic. The Sith do what they say and so does the Republic. Nothing more, nothing less." That was the only reality of correlation between speech and action with either organization. "I have no intention of landing on Alderaan just yet, and I have even less intention..." Were it possible to have less than zero intention. "...to involve anyone else just yet. I'm going to have Rianna meet me on Ossus. She's a Jedi so it won't look completely awkward. Don't exactly have that luxury with Alyesa. Also. Shara is dead." Thus any statements made by him were completely irrelevant anyways.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

"I'll be whatever I want." Kiskla sniffed defensively and uselessly. Even still, her chin piqued slightly to prove her stubborn point. "Vong infestation is hardly an improvement to any society." She'd know-- since she'd developed a habit of scratching at the scar on the back of her hand at any mention of the parasites. Like right now.

"Oh yeah," Kiskla murmured in response to Rianna's name. "Rianna." Through the grapevine, her husband, the one that had sung at the wedding the pair had attended, had been the dark lord when the attack on Alderaan had occurred. That put relationship problems in perspective, that was for certain. Ha, that had been what, a year ago? At the recollection, Kiskla shifted her weight. Her senses were telling her it was time to stop, and withdraw for the evening, but she was like a child trying to prolong the inevitable -- even if the conversation wasn't what she wanted to hear (even though her professional side knew any advancement was for the best) -- she still wanted to continue talking with Marcello.

"Shavit," she muttered "-I wonder how she's doing. She's always been the benevolent type. Think her and Ordo are still together? Well. I guess you'll find out." Then again, maybe not. [member="Marcello Matteo"] was too efficient to seek insights on relationship statuses. "Or not."

Shara was dead? Nice. "Shara's dead? Relief for you, then."

 

[Marcello Matteo]

"They are, yes," was Marcello's swift response to [member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s inquiry. He knew that based mostly on what he'd seen and heard during his time on Alderaan. Also - the media coverage of Alderaan was anything other than light. Rianna's membership to the Royal Family more or less dictated that.

Kiskla's last comment served only to irritate him - which she should have expected. Yes. Good news that perhaps it was one less real power behind the One Sith's activities for others to conveniently ignore again and again and again. Coming to his feet, the Jedi Master casually recalled the loss of a limb that he suffered in defense of both Kiskla and Ben Watts. For which he'd never received not expected even an ounce of thanks. His amusement with past involvement with the Sith Lord definitively and abruptly ended there.

Marcello was more or less capable of levity or at least disinterest in all things. That did not extend to the one being in the galaxy that seemed to continuously attempt to pull him from where he belonged consistently. A fact that he fought desperately against time and again for one intense purpose.

His love for Kiskla Grayson.

"You should rest. We can talk more in the morning." Despite his irritation, his fondness for Kiskla did not permit him to treat her with any level of disdain. Stepping forward, the Jedi Master placed a soft kiss to Kiskla's forehead. When he withdrew, a smile lingered on his lips as he made his way to collect the trays on her desk.