Mariel Dawnrider
Wing and a Prayer
Empress Teta
Cinnagar
Mariel Dawnrider had been traveling now for such a long time.
After the Silver Jedi Order had arrived on Kashyyyk, she had broken with the more typical insular nature of her kind and learned everything she had been able. Quietly at first. Just watching. The Songwing perching on windowsills and in trees during lessons. More formally later, as time had gone on and finally someone had noticed the dove coloured owl constantly watching and peering in. Eventually it had become clear to her, however, that there had been so much lost. Too much, perhaps. Voss. Ossus. Tython. So many histories and records plundered by the Sith. She had found her joy in the histories at the same time she had found her sorrow in how many of them had been lost. Possibly forever. Had the sith kept them? Hidden them away? Or destroyed them? She didn't know.
But there were other archives. Other libraries. Ones that had not yet been destroyed. And so Mariel Dawnrider had set off. With a hope and a promise. To find what she could. To bring it back. And she had done that. Each trip returning- sometimes with holocrons, sometimes with bound volumes, sometimes with merely copies, but better copies than empty handed.
Each time farther from Kashyyyk than before. Never into Sith territory. Too risky there. But she was starting to grow bolder in her moves, and this trip to Empress Teta after the rise of a new Imperial faction was the boldest yet.
The Songwing was careful, however. Her species not well known off of Kashyyyk, and with her force presence cloaked tightly, she traveled across the breadth of Empress Teta to the city of Cinnagar and the great library there.
The great bronze domed building had been rebuilt an era ago, and while so much of the information from before the years of Darkness were long gone, the library had continued to draw in volumes on history, art, philosophy. So far as Mariel knew, the new powers here hadn't yet censored this place, but how long would that last? The history of groups that self titled as 'Imperial' did not have a good track record for the veneration of ideals not aligned with their own.
The early evening found her up on the top floor of the library, beneath the bronze dome. She had slept well all day long, and perched now with bright eyes and ready talons. She crouched over a large book, settled for her by a library employee (rather bemused but happy to help) on a lectern that allowed her to grip the wood easily. She turned the pages carefully with one foot, balancing easily on the other. Talons were delicate on the old flimplast so as not to damage it.
"I say, do you have the second in this series? There should be a third, but I understand that volume has been lost to time," she spoke in clear but accented basic. She assumed the person behind her was the librarian returning.
She was mistaken.
[member="Darth Saarai"]