Mother of the Rebellion
The rust in her skin shone with reflected highlights, magnified by the exotic pigment elsewhere. The gentle give of a pivot spared her the time to turn and pull the sights of source of stray barks and growls; she understood them better than most. They were her people...
But in place of boisterous barks came a repetitive chant; and in place of the determined shuffling of bare feet came the cadence of sandaled troops. A murmur of confusion swept through the heretic crowd. It took one hand...and a spare finger; silence befell the group.
The dark void in her eye projected the amphibious figures of the Felucians she'd cradled since...
A long time ago she'd feigned her death and never returned to active duty as a Jedi. However...that was who she was. Her ties to Felucia remained after all of these years and it was them she'd come to protect after all this time. Her whereabouts remained unknown to a shifting galaxy...but her mission was all the same.
The Ithorians provided a home for the displaced Felucians who trusted the Togrutan chieftan enough to follow her to safety. For the time it was all she knew to provide until other accommodations became available.
Her face became devoid of all tension, and strand of trust fueled by a connection all of them shared through the Force allowed her to communicate with them whereas others may not.
She'd been waiting deep in the formation, across the green strip from where the Ithorian delegation had gathered had gathered.
A few steps of graceful feral-ness placed her amongst the group, where she'd mold herself in after a series of acknowledgments and bows
