Faction [RNR & Foundation] Restoring the Balance

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sibylla Abrantes

​

For a brief stretch, Lysander tried to keep channeling the healing essence. But now, her chatter echoed in his mind like some kind of broken comm unit. As the energy radiated from his fingertips to her shoulder, a single eye opened once more, but this time out of curiosity.

The Padawan could feel his concentration begin to shatter as she stared at him.. as if scrutinizing his expressions. Unconsciously, he recoiled, and then took a half step back to stand tall.

“See what have you done? Now I have to start completely over!” he stated, though his voice was light. Both hands lifted with dramatic flair. “Stop interrupting me!” The corners of his mouth twitched, betraying the humor he tried to hide. However, a beat later, laughter bubbled in the boy's throat. Lysander then pointed a finger at her playfully. “If you keep talking, I might just end up channeling Force shock instead. And trust me, you don't want that.” He didn't even possess such a skill, but it still felt clever and kind of cool to say.

Looking her dead in the eyes, he shot up an eyebrow. “I probably won't be able to meditate later even if I wanted to with all your sarcasm playing in my head.” A pause followed as his demeanor became more thoughtful. "But I have to admit, I kind of like it."

Then, inhaling a deep breath, one filled with determination, he leaned closer. The blonde's voice lowered. “Just give me a moment of silence if possible. It’ll be worth it. And.. there's no way I'm giving up on the meal without a fight.”

With an exhale, he returned both hands over the burn, drawing upon the primal connection. This time, a flicker ignited between his fingers; the rush of Force energy was coursing through him much quicker than the first attempt.

He could feel it now, the heat finally blossoming. As the healing essence enveloped her shoulder, it began mending the fibers and easing any pain that had etched itself into her skin. As the intensity increased, so did his focus, managing to surprise himself in the process of it all.

A faint light shimmered, one that was visible to the eye, dancing across its target. Once satisfied with his work, both hands dropped.

Sibylla's earlier comparison of Jedi to politicians lingered in his mind. The nuances of power and influence were of great interest to him. Looking to the girl, he could at least admit that her intellect and quick thinking was admirable. At one point, he was intrigued by the idea of serving as a diplomat here; however, his sights were now set on an academy in the Outer Rim, a trajectory that was already in motion.

"So, how long have you been studying politics?" he asked, curiosity sparkling in his emerald orbs as his head tilted slightly. "You know, you're lucky I haven't shown up for the debate club. I would definitely give all the Junior Representatives a run for their credits!”

 

[Mother Askani]

NABOO | FOUNDATION STAGING AREA | OBJ 1.
FOUNDATION

​

She sauntered along the rim of the holotable, the room wasn't extremely large, the table took up majority of its space in the center. She had already felt a faint echo through the empyrean, it beckoned her forth, like someone shouting your name from many rooms over -- you could hear it, but it was drowned out. This was all internal. An unvoicing.

The Askani had developed this type of telepathic communication with one another; they could carry on marathon conversation via this medium if they wished. This method allowed them to communicate in a safer way. Many people possessed somewhat of an internal monologue, but those with telepathic gifts often projected theirs or intercepted others unknowingly, this was how she would find other mentalics, as she referred to them, and bring them into Askani. It was always safer and more comforting to speak to them on this level first.

She stopped just shy of the door, then a moment or so had passed before it slid open.

"The Arbiter." her guest was announced, and then a figure of about 6 feet in height proceeded in. He appeared lean but wiry; he carried himself with the discipline of an old soldier, though he had the mannerisms of a scholar. His facial features were covered by his hood, and his robes had a formalness to them, though subtly modified for practicality—reinforced sleeves, and a more flexible cut that allowed him to move quickly when needed; They were a deep blue and black, and of Korosian design, but without any insignia that would tie him directly to officialdom.

"Thank you," She nodded, honing in on the presence of her guest as their patron left them.

The room seemed to freeze in time, but there was a burst of familiarity about. It became even more apparent when he dropped his hood, and her seemingly dropping her facade.

"Old Kordain" she growled with a hint of humor underneath; she teased. A nickname used informally by those who've known him a long time

Calm & measured, he speaks in a slow, deliberate tone, never wasting words. His speech carries the weight of someone used to making judgments that determine fates, and people tend to listen when he spoke. He couldn't help but laugh, but it was mostly in his throat. "You wear the name Askani well, but I still see you behind it. You'll always be my Redbird, even if you've taken to wearing darker feathers," He teased, stepping back and looking upon her attire, "But you were never one for half-measures, and I know this war is no different. If you've called upon me now then I know it's serious. Tell me what you need, whatever it is, and I will see it done."

Gavan Kordain, a former Tetan Circuit Judge & now Political Advisor, was in his late 50s – early 60s. He had graying black hair, slightly unkempt but often tied back in a loose, practical style, and a deep-set of steel-gray eyes, always studying his surroundings with sharp observation. He also had a thin scar that ran from his left temple to his jaw—a reminder of an old duel, though he rarely speaks of it.

Gavan was a close friend of her late husband and remains deeply loyal to her, respecting her transition into the leader of the Foundation. He sees her mission as a necessary rebellion against tyranny, not just for Empress Teta, but for the Deep Core as a whole.

Kek "-Mind you I'm very comfortable." She inserted as he laughed. however, the tone did shift a bit "The circumstances have changed..." She motioned with her head to look towards the holotable. She tapped her index finger against its surface calling it to life, and she walked around for the other side.

"The crisis in the Cluster has greatly exacerbated things..." She dug her hands into the frame of the table and leaned over, "I'm moving on the Deep Core..." She said.

"What?" he said, though there seemed to be a slight delay as it took him a second to realize what she had said. "That's not a part of the plan..."

-----

"What have I sacrificed? Everything..."
​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Interacting with Lysander von Ascania | closed

"If my quips cause a distraction, I am alarmed at the state of concentration for the Jedi," Sibylla remarked wryly, watching as Lysander wrestled with his focus. At least he wasn't insulted by her commentary -- if anything, he seemed oddly entertained. A change in pace from her elders and peers. She was about to press further when a dull ache rippled through her shoulder, only to be swallowed by an unfamiliar warmth.

What sorcery was this?

She studied the result, her hazel eyes narrowing. The wound wasn't gone, but the rawness had faded, replaced by scabbing and a numbing sensation that was, frankly, impressive.

"What exactly did you do?" she asked, curiosity overtaking skepticism as she glanced from her shoulder back to Lysander.

He barely had time to respond before his previous question registered.

With a sigh, she straightened, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

"Since I was six. Standard for noble Houses of Naboo." There was no bitterness in her tone, but neither was there excitement. Just duty, ever present.

Lysander made some bold claim about debating, earning himself a pointed look. Then, with a snort and an eye roll, she rose to her feet, shaking her head as she added wryly in mild amusement. "If your debating skills are anything like your potted plant throwing skills, I'd be surprised if a single bill got passed."

But before he could fire back, the distant rumble of bombing snapped her back to reality. Her expression hardened.

"We should hurry. If the Naboo forces have deployed, they'll need assistance. I need to contact my House and the Representative Assembly." She turned to him, brow arched.

"Do you not have to meet up with the Order?"

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sibylla Abrantes

​

There was a trace of warmth in his chest as he glanced at Sibylla's shoulder. It felt good to successfully execute the healing ability, especially since it was the first time he had used it outside the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, where he first learned it.

But besides the accomplishment, there were also a few whispering what-ifs in the pit of his stomach. Part of him still believed that if he had intervened quicker at the Royal Palace, he could have perhaps prevented it altogether.

He decided that the complexities of the Force were probably best left unspoken; instead, he would keep the answer simple. A casual shrug was paired with a faint smile. “Oh you know, I was just–” Lysander was suddenly cut off as Sibylla shifted gears.

His eyes narrowed with a touch of intrigue as she spoke about her background, for he generally had a keen sense for those of noble lineage, having grown up among many high born on Ukatis.

Mirth brightened the boy's features from the remark about his debating prowess, fully prepared to engage in some kind of playful retort, as words were already dancing just on the edge of his thoughts. Unfortunately, an explosion shattered that moment, and he quickly notes how indifferent he felt towards it.

The Padawan’s hand then reached for the comm link in his pocket and examined it. “No, not yet,” he replied, keeping his tone light, “But.. I expect to hear from them soon.” Lysander couldn't help but think that the coordination efforts from the Order were unorganized at best, but wasn't about to voice that concern, as it would just be calling out what seemed so apparent. To him at least.

His expression softened. “If you need to get back to the city, I will help you. Where exactly do you need to go in Theed?” A mischievous smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, as he shook his head in amusement. “At least we'll be safer without you wielding a blaster now. The last thing I want is scorch marks on my new tunic. Your aim is terrible.”

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Lysander von Ascania

Sibylla peered at the young Jedi from head to fancy leather boot, her sharp eyes taking in the expensive embroidered linen and the smooth, well worn Alderaanian nerf leather. Hardly the attire of a humble monk.

A Jedi, indeed.

Rolling her eyes in wry amusement, she turned her attention back to the sky, scanning for familiar landmarks. Between the thick canopy and the smoke curling from the distance, navigation would be… troublesome. She exhaled through her nose.

"Assistance would be welcomed to return to the city… specifically to the Naboo center of operations in Theed," she said, shifting slightly as one of her fine boots made an unfortunate squelch in the mud. Disgust flickered across her face. "There should be one implemented in circumstances like these. I'm familiar with the locality…but not from a swamp.”

She flicked her gaze back to Lysander, taking in the slight scuffs and mud on his otherwise pristine attire. A lady-like snort left her lips. "You should count yourself lucky that Shiraya blessed me with the fortune of my blaster skills - - haphazard or not, someone had to save your skin."

A pause, then, with mock consideration, she added, "Next time, I'll aim lower. Perhaps strike at those pretty Alderaanian nerf leather boots - really see those dancing skills."

Sibylla smirked at him before turning back to their path, picking her way through the damp underbrush with careful precision. Then, glancing over at him once more, she tilted her head in curious inquiry. It was after all, her first time talking to a Jedi outside the realm of politics.

"So, are you a Jedi Master then? Assigned to the Palace?" shee asked, curiosity laced in her voice. Because for all his confidence, he didn't look much older than her.

 

[Efret Farr]

At first, the invitation to a Council of Light meeting as a guest had been a great comfort to her.

Now, it was an added anxiety.

Efret had met Master Porte once but she didn't really know any of these people. Though her reputation as the member of another Jedi council probably preceded her, none of them really knew her either.

Would they accept a Deafblind woman into their ranks, if only for a day?

Efret couldn't help but feel next to useless without the guidance of Nirrah, her seeing eye convor who was lost to the Netherworld with Elias. Yes, she knew how to use Force Sight. She had relied on it to navigate the worlds from soon after the time she began to lose her sight until she found and bonded with Nirrah. She was using it now, walking to their appointment alongside Rook. But even with so much experience, she was Lorrdian, not a Miraluka. Their species had evolved to use Force Sight, had adapted to it, and so had a much better command of it than most non-Miralukas could hope to ever have.

The same was true of her. She had never gotten used to some of the differences between Force Sight and real sight, had never learned how to overcome them.

That was her greatest shame at a time like this. It was clear that she had come to rely on Nirrah too much and—

Her footfalls faltered in the hallway. She shook her head at herself, then took a deep breath and let it go: both the lungsful of air and the thought. She began walking towards the meeting room again.

Jedi relied on their lightsabers and, when they couldn't, the Force. Reliance was design, not detriment.

Rook Merriex​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Kahne Porte | Efret Farr

​

Lorn shifted awkwardly in his seat, the movement sending a sharp reminder through his waning strength. He should really get himself in a bacta tank at this point, but there was something so invaluable about feeling the pain and learning from your mistakes, especially in battle. The Knight could hear soft footsteps approaching and instinctively he straightened his back, an effort that felt like lifting a boulder. When Kahne stepped through the door, his presence was like a beacon: calm and steady. Lorn felt a flicker of warmth in his chest, grateful for the familiar smile of the Jedi Master.

With a half-hearted chuckle reminiscent of his old self, Lorn replied, his voice steady but tinged with exhaustion, "Alive, that's what counts, right?" He managed a small smile of his own, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes but felt like a necessary gesture. The words were a reminder, perhaps for himself more than Kahne, that survival in the chaos was still a victory of sorts, however hollow it felt in the moment.

As a momentary silence dwelled between them, Lorn met Kahne's gaze, searching for the strength that defined the Jedi Master, yet noticing shadows lingering in his expression. There was something beneath the surface, an unspoken weight that mirrored his own. Kahne was a guardian of hope, often casting out light against encroaching darkness, but even he seemed to wrestle with something hidden.

Lorn cleared his throat and shifted his posture, wincing as his injuries protested again. "How's Aiden?" he asked, earnest concern threading through his voice. Aiden had always been brave, perhaps too brave, and Lorn hoped the young man was safe and sound, far from the turmoil that had threatened them all.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sibylla Abrantes

​

Lysander raised an eyebrow at the girl’s expression, the corner of his mouth twitching into yet another smile. The way she rolled her eyes seemed to pass judgement; surely, she wouldn’t be criticizing his taste of fashion, would she? After all, it was a look he knew all too well, for he wore it multiple times a day since beginning his Jedi journey.

His head tilted slightly in the direction he believed Theed to be, a sense of calm exuding from him. He could also allow the Force to guide them, trusting the currents to lead them through whatever lay ahead. “There’s no need to worry, we'll get there soon. I'm sure of it.” he said reassuringly.

A grin threatened to break through a more composed facade. “How do you know I was in need of help? I mean.. I probably only needed a few more seconds with that guy.” A chuckle escaped at the very thought, almost as if the Padawan was ignoring how that encounter had truly ended.

Before long he glanced down at his boots, the leather now caked with mud. “Honestly, it almost sounds like you’re jealous of my style,” he commented, flicking a gaze at her for just a moment. In truth, he was actually relishing in the banter. “But I understand, especially coming from someone whose taste appears rather.. drab.”

At this rate with exchanged quips, the trip back to Theed would pass quickly.

As he focused on her, Lysander really couldn't tell if she was joking about being a Jedi Master or not. But after a few more seconds, he realized it was an innocent question. He shook his head slowly. ”No.. not yet. I'm just a Padawan. I just happened to be near the palace whenever the attack first began.” His tone carried a rare note of humility, rather than his typical pride.

Continuing their trek, he found himself contemplating the web of politics; the complexities and alliances that drove planets and factions to either war or peace, along with the dance of diplomacy, was something that fascinated him. It was one of the reasons he had long considered pursuing the path to becoming a diplomat. "So, what exactly drives your passion for politics, Sibylla?" he asked, genuinely intrigued. A faint smile played on his lips. “I know it’s kind of a random question.. but do you think we currently live in an era where idealism can thrive or actually be accepted?”

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Interacting with Lysander von Ascania | closed

"How did I know?" Sibylla repeated, tossing a glance over her shoulder as she carefully stepped around a particularly murky puddle. "The unflattering footwork."

Lysander, to his credit, didn't take offense. If anything, he seemed amused. Until, of course, he dared to turn the subject back on her.

"Drab?" Sibylla slowed, lips twisting into a furrowed pout, her eyes narrowing in deep offense. "Dull is not a word House Abrantes prides itself on in our wardrobe, I'll have you know." She huffed, comically brushing at the tattered and mud covered fine bright orange Naboo skirt as if the mere suggestion might somehow dull its sheen. "Unlike Jedi, who seem to think monastic austerity is a fashion statement."

Still, despite the banter she followed him when he took the lead. Navigating through the swamp was tedious enough without the looming concern of further attacks, and if Lysander had a better sense of direction, she wasn't about to argue. However her brows rose when he clarified his position.

"A Padawan?" she echoed, considering him anew trying to think over what she knew of the Jedi. That raised several more questions, but for now, she decided to answer his first. What drove her passion for politics? It wasn't a simple answer.

"Because it's necessary," she finally said, the usual dry humor ebbing slightly in favor of sincerity. "The galaxy doesn't run on sentiment, nor does it wait for good intentions to steer it in the right direction. It requires action, foresight, and…" She glanced at him, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "A few well placed negotiations that may or may not involve a carefully worded threat."

She lifted a brow at his follow up. "An era where idealism can thrive?" She let out a soft hrm before shaking her head. She read enough of Naboo's history pre-Gulag plague and what had been suffered in the wake of the Omega Protectorate, Confederacy, Alliance, the First Order, and all that came in between.

"No. Idealism alone is a foundation for dreams, not reality... Naboo politics have proven that although our constituents admire idealism... the rest of the galaxy enjoys taking advantage of it. History has made it clear that idealism is not what our politians or our elected monarchy should base their platform on. Will we get rid of it entirely? No...but idealism paired with practicality...now that is where real change happens."

A pause. Then she smirked, casting him a sidelong look. "Which is why I can confidently say that your boots are beyond saving. Practicality demands you admit defeat."

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sibylla Abrantes ​

​

This time it was Lysander who couldn’t help but roll his eyes, though there was a flicker of humor dancing behind the relaxed demeanor. What was she even talking about? Makashi, the elegant lightsaber form he heavily admired, was meant to represent grace? But here was Sibylla with her overly bright and vibrant color in the otherwise earthy tones of Naboo, challenging him.

His brows furrowed thoughtfully as he occasionally refocused on the uneven path before them. Perhaps drab had been the wrong word, so he decided to acknowledge her flair, though it was but a murmur as the conversation kept driving forward. “At least you don’t blend in with the Imperials and troopers."

Upon hearing her critique of Jedi fashion, Lysander easily recognized the truth in her words. He wasn't even going to attempt a counterargument; her observation was very accurate.

Remaining silent as she spoke, his eyes trailed along their trajectory stretching ahead, tracing over shadows on the ground. His concentration was unaffected, and even admired that she wasn’t hesitant to dive into the complexities of the reality they both shared. While he nodded as though agreeding, inside he was treading in between support and critique.

He tried to choose his words with care, mindful not to criticize those truly devoted to the Light. But deep down, Lysander was simply beginning to believe the Jedi’s pacifism could not merge with the harshness of existence. “I do agree that history speaks volumes. The.. naive dreams of the past only made way for tyranny and.. despair. Idealism has failed many generations. I can’t help but wonder if some ever considered the consequences of their negotiations.”

Even without the cloak, the humidity here wrapped around him like he was still wearing one. The roots on the swamp floor twisted much like the thoughts swirling about in his mind.

The Padawan’s head tilted slightly. ”In a galaxy filled with deception,” he mused aloud, his voice lowering, “I suppose idealism can at least inspire action, if not much else.” A faint smile lingered, revealing his enjoyment of the moment. He knew delving too deeply into the topic could lead both of them to confront something not typically suitable for new acquaintances; thus, he scaled back to a broader approach. “And it can light a fire under those who become complacent.. or seemingly content with settling for mediocrity.” he finished, the words laced with a touch of passion.

 

[Dashiell NPC]

"Sorry. Sorry. I'm here. Hopefully I didn't keep you waiting."

Waymire reached out to greet the young Mirialan, shaking his hand. It was an ideal place to meet and if he has been kept waiting it was understand able. This was a refugee zone, a medical humanitarian issue, and at some point in time a battlezone. Time, in his opinion, worked a little differently in his opinion.

"No worries, not as if I'm going anywhere. Lots of work to get done, I think I will be here for the foreseeable future. So, what can I help you with? I'm afraid I don't know much of our meeting beyond an interest in working with an orphanage? Or you have an orphanage? I'm still assessing the situation here, so please fill me in."

Shan Pavond ​

 

[Mother Askani]

NABOO | FOUNDATION STAGING AREA | OBJ 1.
FOUNDATION

​

"It isn't..." she said letting a beat of silence settle, as she wove her hand through a series of patterns as if she were building something; she was molding the holograms on the table to their proper input. "But plans evolve." She said, settling on the images she needed.

"Naboo has suffered twice in just the time we've been here, you've seen the damage on your way in. We've got a refugee crisis on our hands, displaced peoples coming in droves from the Core, the Cluster, and now coming from Kashyyyk...we have to pivot; push some things up the list." She hovered there for a bit, "Including our plans in the deep core..." they both exchanged a glance, and it was telling, they both knew what that meant.

No one liked sudden changes in their plans, especially with stakes like these, but things were spiraling, "What do you have in mind?" Gavan grunted.

"The rebellion goes live, now. Strike where the Dark Empire is weakest and shatter its hold on the Core; Push them out. Nows perfect because the Alliance is busy with the Sith and Mandalorians on their borders, they'll be occupied. This will be a three-pronged assault, here, here, and here," She emphasized with motion, pointing to Kampe, Prakith, and Jerrilek.

"Each of these are a vital piece of the Dark Empire’s war machine in its deep core state. Prakith is the primary target, overthrowing the Imperial Guild leaders, and severing the Empire’s supply of vital resources renders their core state useless. Jerrilek is one of their most critical supply depots, from weapons, rations, and—most importantly—pre-packed high-density aurodium ingots. Then Kampe will be the distraction, an opportunity to cripple the Dark Empire’s military before it can regroup. We've been funneling intel for months, hearing the grievances of the miners...it's time. This will be the beacon."

A beat.

"And of course...will help push our plans on Empress Teta-" Gavan was sharp-witted and strategic, he had the mind of a tactician, always thinking three moves ahead, so he caught on pretty quick, "-With the Ivory Charter." She nodded to his realization. "It's a hell of a lot faster than we hoped, but...without Imperial influence local government becomes a feth of a lot easier to navigate. Then there's the optics of it all...the people will see this as a win." He was visibly within thought.

Gavan Kordain represents the intersection of law, rebellion, and strategy within the Foundation's efforts on Empress Teta and beyond. He is not a warrior in the traditional sense, but a tactician who wages war and pushes for change through courts, diplomacy, and bureaucracy, ensuring that when the Dark Empire falls, the Foundation has not just a victory, but a legitimate seat at the table for what comes next.

"I know it's not ideal...but the Ivory Charter is a huge piece of this puzzle too. Do you think you'll be ready on this new timeline?"

-----

"What have I sacrificed? Everything..."
​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Interacting with Lysander von Ascania | closed

Sibylla listened, her expression unreadable as Lysander spoke, his words measured, carefully chosen. She recognized that balancing act well - - the tightrope walk between belief and doubt, duty and disillusionment. It was a dance she had been forced to learn early, navigating the intricate web of Naboo politics since childhood.

She didn't interrupt, allowing him the space to voice his thoughts, focusing on not tripping over a knotted branch, though she noted the way his words shifted, how he started with agreement before threading in the weight of his own uncertainty.

"Some did," she said, her voice even yet thoughtful. "Consider the consequences, I mean. The great idealists, the ones we hold up as paragons of virtue - - they weren't fools" Her gaze flicked toward him, sharp with meaning. "But there's a difference between knowing the risks and accepting them. I think many believed the cost of their ideals was worth paying."

Her tone suggested she was less convinced.

As they walked, the thick air clung to her like an unwelcome shroud, and the occasional squelch of mud beneath her boots only deepened her distaste for their current surroundings. But she didn't complain; Sibylla Abrantes was many things, but fragile was not one of them.

Lysander's musings drew her attention again, and she caught the flicker of a smile at the edges of his lips.

"Inspiration is a powerful tool," she admitted, stepping carefully over a gnarled root. "But I find that most who wield it conveniently forget that fire doesn't just warm - - it burns." A wry smile tugged at her lips. "And if you set fire to complacency, you'd best have something stronger than hope to control the blaze."

A beat of silence, before she arched a brow at him. "Though I do appreciate the passion. Here I thought that Jedi are not usually known for their strong opinions… all that lack of personal attachments stifling all that free thinking."

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Sibylla Abrantes

Lysander noticed her words beginning to carry a different edge, ones that were intriguing, and feeling like a challenge with how the girl delivered her thoughts. He also believed they were only one more exchange from dipping into disagreement; and yet, with growing curiosity, he desired to push the conversation just a little further. "The truth often burns," he added, his voice low yet steady. His emerald orbs carried a glint of determination. "But don't forget those flames tend to forge something stronger in the end.”

Her jab about the Jedi didn’t lessen his spark; rather, it was amplified. A small stretch passed with only the quelch of mud cutting through the silence. "Most Jedi seem to shy away from it.. at least from my experience on Coruscant and Naboo,” he finally admitted.

His gaze was fixated ahead, the muddy path drawing them closer to Theed with each stride. “I think there's a lot emotions they ignore, which makes them miss out on many of life's experiences.” There was a barely noticeable pause. “And their own potential.”

The Padawan glanced sideways at Sibylla to gauge her reaction. Based on what he gathered from his attuned senses, they weren't too far from the capital now.

“When I first started my journey on Coruscant, sometimes I would contemplate what made us different from droids,” he started. A chuckle bubbled in his throat from the confession. In truth, it was a topic lingering in his mind more recently, especially since he was returning back home to Ukatis in a few days to visit his sister, and from there, straight to Korriban. "It should be more than just our ability to think or solve problems."

Smiling softly, his following words would be carefully chosen once more. “It should be our passions, dreams, loves, and even fears. That's what defines our sentience and fuels us to do more beyond just logic. Passion is what makes us truly alive.” Lysander casually shrugged his shoulders. “Don't get me wrong, the Jedi are good people, and I do believe their intentions to be pure. But I still want to truly live.”

 

[Briana Sal-Soren]

Briana tried to hide the wince as she approached the chamber where the rest of the Council had gathered at Shiraya's Rest, the linen bandages wrapped tight around her ribs offering little respite from the agony that radiated through her battered body. It'd only been a handful of days since her confrontation with the Mandalorian Field Marshal, having pushed herself well beyond her body's limitations to keep the throne room from being overtaken. No one expected Briana's presence for this meeting, the absence of her name on the formal summons was telling of that.

And she understood why.

If she was the one watching another Council member limp half-dead from the battlefield, she might have come to the same decision. Might have let them sleep through the summons, let them heal. Might have told herself it was an act of mercy, of necessity, for their own wellbeing.

But that didn't mean she would accept it. Not when Theed was reeling from yet another attack, not when the Netherworld was starting to stir again, not when the conversation at hand centered around a member of her own family.

So, against all recommendations of the attending healers, Briana scrubbed the last remnants of bacta from her skin, and attempted to look as presentable as possible — only briefly catching her unforgiving reflection in the mirror before leaving the medbay. The bruising that bloomed along her jaw starkly contrasted her skin in various shades of sickly purples and mottled yellows. Her lip was still swollen, the split scabbed over, her posture unnaturally stiff.

Briana forced her chin up. It would have to do.

Pushing open the chamber doors, she allowed her gaze to do a quick sweep of the room and who'd already arrived. Lorn sat ramrod straight, tension carved into the lines of his shoulders, pain carefully masked beneath his usual impassivity. Kahne sat near him, ever composed, the center of calm in the storm — though there was a heaviness that she felt lingering beneath the surface. Was it from the recent attack? Or was there something else?

Efert and Rook were there as well — she didn't know Efret except by word of mouth and reputation, a Council member from the New Jedi Order who'd come to Naboo to offer aid. But Rook on the other hand, Briana recognized immediately. They'd fought together in the Netherworld during the last Cataclysm, a breath away from death, and knew from conversations she'd had with Brandyn that the woman was an invaluable source of knowledge when it came to the Netherworld. Both of them were welcome additions to this meeting.

Then there was Vizion.

Her eyes settled on him a beat longer than intended, feeling something shift in her chest. A pang of regret, or maybe relief?—she couldn't tell which. They hadn't seen each other since that night when he'd first arrived on Naboo and come to her home — an evening that felt like so many crises ago now. It wasn't out of avoidance, so much as necessity; between Astor's death, the upheaval on Hapes, and the Mandalorian raid, there hadn't been room for anything else. That was what she told herself, what she had to tell herself. Blinking after a moment of realizing she was staring, Briana tore her gaze away and moved to find an empty seat around the stone table.

Curiously, she noted, Lossa had yet to arrive.

With a soft exhale, she lowered herself down into the chair, willing herself to remain steady even as her ribs screamed in protest. "Apologies for my late arrival," she said once settled, managing to keep her tone composed despite every inhale feeling constricted; it was the only acknowledgement she would give to explain why she there when she wasn't supposed to be at all.

OUTFIT: XoXo | TAG: Lossa Aureus , Lorn Reingard , Kahne Porte , Vizion Trozky , Efret Farr , Rook Merriex | EQUIPMENT: N/A

​

 

[Lossa Aureus]

Jumpsuit
Bracelet | Echo Stone​

The fight with the Mandalorian had caused her pause.

Given her something to think about when she had been so adamant against thinking before her goal had been reached. The flurry of emotions that usually whipped around her for anyone to see was muted. Almost hidden now as her thoughts tossed against one another in a contest to see which would outlast the other. Anger trying to outdo the feelings of longing she had for the past. When the planet had felt welcoming and given a chance for making her happy.

Anger reminding her of the failure of others. Of the betrayal of her trust in securing the most vital part of her happiness. Longing rebuking those thoughts with another chance at making something greater when the matter was settled.

All things that had made her tighten her emotional barriers. Bury everything for the meeting that was being held.

Which was no doubt about her.

Even she had reviewed what she had done with a grimace. They were not becoming of a Jedi. But did she cling to that title because it was safe? Because it provided her with purpose? Or was it something she felt she had to prove? Was she a warrior fighting for others? Or simply a being trying to make their way in the galaxy with the skills at her disposal?

Romi. Briana. Valery. Countless others ringing in her ear as she walked along.

Names that reminded her that there was a greater purpose to their lives as those wielding the Force that moved through them. But also reminders of how moving through the galaxy wielding that power were just as likely, if not more prone to, the catastrophes that surrounded their happiness. Was it a path she would continue to walk, or would she stray from it to make her life easier?

She wore nothing more than her jumpsuit and two items she felt would steady her the most. A bracelet to keep her species ability in check. Cranked to the highest control setting possible in case she became too excitable during the meeting. And the other a gift from a mentor now gone and unable to provide her a voice of reason beyond the words already spoken.

Reminders that the life ahead on this path was not the easiest nor forgiving.

Before either side of the mental debate could be announced as a winner, the doors of the council room dominated her vision. Halting any progress forward until the here and now was dealt with.

Whatever the outcome was good or bad, it was an inevitable thing.

Her eyes roaming the details of the door to delay what had to be done for just a moment longer. Her eyes eventually moving down to her own hands with a sigh.

"Here we are again." Blinking as her hands rose until they rested on the handles. "For better or worse."

As much as she wanted to exude the carefree feelings, she could not muster them as freely as they'd been available before.

A subdued and almost solemn air about her as she walked into the room. Regarding each member present with a slight nod, holding her arms behind her back.

The only deviation from her passive presence, was the stare she directed at Briana. Eyes lingering on the bandaged area with a sharp glance to her cousins eyes. A silent question in them about her well being.

Lorn Reingard | Kahne Porte | Efret Farr | Briana Sal-Soren | Rook Merriex | Vizion Trozky​

 

[Kalantha]

Restoring the Balance
a Royal Naboo Republic story...

​

"Your help would be greatly appreciated," Kalantha said to Echo with a nod. "I'm mostly spreading the word and sharing some fruit. Showing my face helps, too," she explained. "Showing yours would as well. The people adore the Jedi, Shirayan or otherwise. You're a very inspiring tradition." It helped, too, that many citizens of the Republic accepted Shiraya and, by extension, the Force and Jedi, as their primary mode of faith. Naturally, seeing Jedi on the front lines during conflicts and relief efforts helped immensely when it came to restoring peace and confidence.

Kalantha passed the bag of fruit to Echo. She shared the various locations where further aid could be offered to the people. "The Foundation is a major supporter of Naboo. They have sites in the market district and spaceport." Mother Askani and her people were very quick to respond after the Mandalorian thread had subsided. It was impressive how fast they could mobilize when the call of duty demanded it. "The ArcDash Foundation is also here," she went on to say, noting one of their ambulatory tents down the street with a nod.

"The plan is to offer kind words, a little food, and directions to these sites."

Kalantha was just about to set off with her newfound companion when a young man who seemed to be speaking over a comlink intercepted them. The Queen was cautious at first of the young man's approach, but when she recognized him as the son of the late Admiral Liram Angellus, she breathed a small sigh of relief. "It's an honor, Michael. We're lucky to have the support of the Angellus family." She was caught a bit off guard by the impromptu meeting with the Angellus' firm, but Kalantha wouldn't turn down a potential partnership, especially when it sought Naboo out instead of the other way around.

Tags: Echo Athoth | Michael Angellus​

 

[Michael Angellus]

​

Journal Entry:

Restoring the Balance
a Royal Naboo Republic story...​

Okay, I was not expecting that. I need to stay humble, I mean, much more of this type of reception’ll go to my head. I mean, I am cool and all, haha. I’m glad no one’ll ever read this as I feel like an idiot writing that. Haha!

I don’t even need to know what Mom is saying to her right now. I know that she is pledging funds, supplies, and tech. It’s just who she is. It’s the way Dad was, what was it that he always said “I have to be able to look in the mirror…” or something like that?He always emphasized the importance of integrity, and Mom is just continuing his legacy. She knows how crucial it is to support those in need and to maintain our values.

Just happy to be here. I feel like an idiot for saying nothing else, but I didn’t know what to say.



Kalantha | Echo Athoth | Altan | OPEN

 

[Echo Athoth]

Naboo
Tags: Michael Angellus , Kalantha

Echo Athoth's Locket, Epo-1 Interceptor, BB-055TN "Boston"
​

"Showing yours would as well. The people adore the Jedi, Shirayan or otherwise. You're a very inspiring tradition."

"So I've seen," Echo noted, adjusting her glasses. "I suppose there's a great deal of history between the Naboo and the Jedi Order. It's no surprise that the reaction to our presence in this place is very positive. Such relationships should be fostered. Who knows how the raid would have ended if the Naboo and Shirayan Jedi weren't so tightly knit."

It wasn't uncommon for Jedi to be beloved, but it wasn't common either. It was like flipping a coin, and every planet had valid reason for and against the Order. If the Naboo had this tie it seemed a waste to let it wither. Jedi were at their best in symbiosis with the communities they served. That was the most successful route of the Order, anyways. It wasn't long before they had another companion, a familiar face: The young Michael Angellus.

Just happy to be here.

And social awkwardness was certainly his trend as far as exhibited behaviors went. Poor guy.

"Here," Echo began, placing some fruit in the young Jedi's hands. "Go find a kid and make their day."

Her tone was flat, but she was being supportive. Perhaps even whimsical. Michael would surely find value in his presence here if he actually got a chance to interact directly with the good people they were helping. Especially the children.

They were the future after all. To that end there was something sacred about their well-being.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Interacting with Lysander von Ascania | closed

Sibylla did her best to listen as she picked her way across the swamp, her focus divided between Lysander's musings on Jedi philosophy and the very real possibility of ending up knee deep in a mud pit. The terrain was a nightmare; glistening pools of stagnant water, roots determined to trip her, and an ever present, cloying humidity that turned her carefully styled hair into something less than regal. She sighed through her nose. The things she endured for Naboo.

Still, she caught the shift in Lysander's tone, the way his words pressed forward, testing the boundaries of debate. There was something almost...earnest about it. A boy eager to prove himself. To question. To push back against the rigid framework he'd been placed in.

She could respect that.

"The truth burns, but so does blind passion," she countered, carefully stepping over a particularly deceptive patch of ground. "Fire doesn't only forge, it consumes. Passion without control is just destruction." She flicked him a look, arching a brow. "Or have Jedi started taking life lessons from Sith holocrons now?"

Her tone was light, teasing, but beneath it lay something sharper. She had studied history -- Senatorial records, wartime declarations, political plays that had either cemented legacies or burned civilizations to the ground. Passion was a tool, but one that cut both ways.

As they walked, she noted the way Lysander's eyes flickered with something unreadable. Thoughtful. Maybe even a little wistful.

"Well...living means different things to different people," she mused. "For some, it's sacrifice. Duty. A legacy that outlasts them." A shrug, one fluid and practiced from years of courtly training. "For others, it's love. Adventure. Freedom. It all depends on what you value."

She cast another glance at him, assessing. "And what is it you value, Padawan Lysander? What does truly living look like to you?"