Jacen Voidstalker
Failure Is Not Fatal
It was only two weeks after his departure that Jacen returned back to Sullust with a small wooden box tucked under one arm. That grim look of determination was still there, but perhaps now accentuated by the permanent scar that now graced his features. A dark shadow ran from his left cheekbone underneath the eye down towards the jaw at an angle.
Omai Rhen stepped out to meet him, arms tucked into the sleeves of his robes.
“Courtesy of Qorbin’s Acolytes,” Jacen explained. “He sends his regards by the way. As does Aawaya.”
Omai's mouth twitched up at the corner. "A'dele seems better by the way, as much as anyone can tell. She's hardly the talkative sort. Down in the plantations if you wanted to talk."
Jacen headed off. The honeybee was, perhaps, not the most creative of creatures. Yet it was loyal and gave everything to protect the hive. Once its mind was set on a particular path, almost nothing could deter it.
Omai Rhen stepped out to meet him, arms tucked into the sleeves of his robes.
“Courtesy of Qorbin’s Acolytes,” Jacen explained. “He sends his regards by the way. As does Aawaya.”
Omai's mouth twitched up at the corner. "A'dele seems better by the way, as much as anyone can tell. She's hardly the talkative sort. Down in the plantations if you wanted to talk."
Jacen headed off. The honeybee was, perhaps, not the most creative of creatures. Yet it was loyal and gave everything to protect the hive. Once its mind was set on a particular path, almost nothing could deter it.