Charity Luckless
Jedi Therapist
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VS73c2cmjDU
Voss
Her gait was even with a sort of lope in her strides, judging by the subtle rise and dip of her shoulders, though her forward motion remained almost impeccably constant. Her legs were concealed under the fabric of her brown robe and her hands were tucked inside some of the folds, giving the illusion that she was effortlessly gliding across an exclusive patch of ice as she progressed down the street. Her eyes stood motionless for the most part, glancing only briefly to her side when passing a curious pedestrian. They were seemingly affixed to some abstract target directly ahead of her, yet there was no indication that she was in a rush to get anywhere.
Charity had sensed the calamity from afar and come to investigate--though there was not much to be investigated from where she stood. She was a tall woman, taller than even many men, and she could behold the scene from behind the drawn police line and amassed response personnel. The robed woman observed the medical crew and coroner arranging the back of the emergency airspeeder for transport of the lifeless, crimson-blanketed individual that had married the pavement.
She looked up from the point of impact to the peak of the columned building. About three seconds of airtime, she estimated. Charity wondered just how much the mind could cycle through in that amount of time. It wasn't much time to assess one's short life. And if the Bith was dead now, had he been dead in the moment he sealed his own fate? At what moment in time was the actual end of a life?
She felt no pain as she returned her gaze to the body, now being wrapped up to save any dignity the jumper had left behind for this universe. There was no trace of life in the carcass; no agony to invade her mind with its chilling fingers. It was messy but peaceful all the same.
There wasn't anything she could do now. Turning her head to look at the small crowd of somber witnesses, Charity had the fleeting imagination that perhaps memories could linger like butterflies after someone had embraced death.
