Faction Exodus of War [THR]

[Cali Ziiva]

Equipment of Note: Mobile Workshop, Lightsaber (Blue) with Lens Modulator, Bubblegum Popper Gloves

Cali looked over at Hannibal as the man suggested Tess was a troublemaker. "That's okay. I'm known for trouble too," the pink Zeltron replied with a merry that wasn't befitting the topic. It was true. People had told her all the time that she'd ended up in "trouble" surrounded by all kinds of nasties. Always managed to get free though! Sometimes with help.

Then Hannibal was the one getting physical, but the Zeltron didn't show any signs of discomfort. Wide eyes peered up at him. "Aw, it's alright. That's why I'm here. To help people feel better." A little dose of warmth and cute could go a long way. And if that wasn't enough then Cali was known to be insanely dogged at following people around until they did feel better. It was how she'd unofficially been trained as a Jedi, after all.

A blink accompanied Hannibal calling Tess 'Winnie, Tessie, whatever' though.

Tess, for her part, said she wasn't interested in physicality. Well not everyone was at first. Some people wanted to get to know others. It was a very non-Zeltron thing to do. All a Cutey could do was follow their lead and not make them even more uncomfortable. "He he, alright. But if you need a hug later, let me know."

Bright eyes darted between the trio before she turned to begin the march toward the mess tent. "Follow me to surprisingly tasty food! This may be a refugee camp, but that doesn't mean a good chef is impossible to find. And nothing beats a full stomach of good food, am I right?" Sure, supplies were difficult to come by in bulk, but Cali had her own ship and a bunch of QT droids to help ensure spices, herbs, and all other kinds of extras made whatever on hand more than just edible.

Ryn and Tess were eager to get off the planet and to work, it seemed. Hannibal, she suspected, wasn't far behind. "Oh, yeah, most people don't like being idle. S'why we try to give people something to do where we can. It's a lot to coordinate. You'd be surprised how many people we have helping out with the paperwork to help speed things along later, ya know?" Not that they were here for filing forms on datapads.

"Don't worry 'bout a thing. This Cali'll take care of it! Once you get some grub I'll find all the right parties and arrange something for you three. No promises about piloting, but maintenance or something technical? Sure, sure." Her voice was full of cheer and her step light, but measured. The Zeltron meant every word too. Wasn't too sure if it'd lead to the outcome they expected, but that's the way the oil dripped.

After all, Cali was a Cutey, but she wasn't fresh off Zeltros either. One of those parties was totally going to be asking some questions. Lots of possibilities could result from such exchanges. Doubtful any of them involving incarceration though, right? Because they were totally legit, right? Well, there were good uses for such 'capable' people.

Ryn Trask | Hannibal Daxos | Tess Wyn-Tai​

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

"Also that's not fair to say. I'm happy to see you, that ain't just my face."

"Yeah..." Gray eyes narrowed, studying her posture, reading her like an Echani battlemaster. "...sure."

He let out a long sigh through the nose, then straightened his back. "Every moment I spend not directed toward steps to defeat him feels like I'm disrespecting them, Tansu. It feels like I'm spitting on their graves. I'm the only one still fighting him for Tion, as far as I know. Everyone else forgot or gave up. I... I can't fail them. I won't fail them."

Tydeus lifted a hand, looked at it, and curled his fingers inward into a fist. He dropped the hand.

"But... I'll help, Tansu," iris like shards of steel flicked up and held her too-bright blues, "I'm doing this for you. Not them."

He pressed a forefinger and thumb to his forehead, trying to rub away the stress that had been building there for weeks.

"I'm... sorry," hm. Couldn't remember the last time he'd apologized. Always seemed like wasted air. "I shouldn't have said anything about your Duke."

Tansu Treicolt

 

[Tansu Treicolt]

​

"I'm serious." She asserted, not liking the way he did nothing to conceal the way he sized her up. The way he looked at her was too pointed and it made her entire body feel like one giant, exposed raw nerve.

Then he sighed and she felt victory brightening the horizon. Except his exhale carried so much bleakness it deepened the edges of her mouth and sharpened her frown. She reached out—instinct, pure instinct—and stopped midway when his fingers curled into crescents against his palm. Her own fingers curled back, flinching at the demonstration of futility. She couldn't touch his hand like this. Not the way they'd left off last time, and had never taken the steps to remedy it.

So she dropped her hand, fingers brushing the gloves at her belt, tugged them on and shook out the dirt from the seams while she thought.

Victory didn't feel very good this time around, and she wasn't sure if she should just accept it or preach a little more.

Aw hells, why not preach a little more. She'd gotten this far.

I can't fail them. I won't fail them."

"I don't believe you could fail 'em, Tydeus. You ain't that kinda guy."

Her voice was steady, but something in her chest tightened a quarter-turn.

Her boots crunched over the dry dirt as she stepped closer, close enough the heat of her frustration bled into the air between them.

"Thank you, but, I don't wanna be an excuse here. Don’t blame me for your good deeds.” she said quietly. "Not 'cause I asked you. Not 'cause you owe a favour. I think that really, deep down, you help 'cause you're good. If you're helpin' folks, do it 'cause that's what you want. 'Cause it's somethin' that keeps a piece of you livin'."

Her voice lowered, and her hand finally completed its reach to give his wrist a warm squeeze. "An' Maker knows… you deserve to live for more than him."

And then he apologized for the love-to-play-hero comment about Talsin.

Tansu blinked and folded her arms across her chest, cocked her head, and slivered her eyes at him. Your Duke seemed to carry an underbite with it that she couldn't put a finger on. She just knew it landed wrong—caught between envy and bite—but she didn't pick that apart now. Couldn't. She hadn't even fully unpacked the 'playing hero' sentiment. They should have been great allies, two that had lost so much of what they'd known, raised as nobility — they shared more commonalities with one another than with her that it felt strange that she wasn't the third wheel.

Silence webbed between them while she wrapped her head around the absurdity.

"No, you shouldn't'ave. Thank you for 'pologizin'.

Even if yer givin’ an awfullotta pet names to someone whose name you do know.’

____________________________________________________________
Tydeus of Tion
____________________________________________________________
​

 

[Joa Sodi]

EXODUS OF WAR
Nuvar Hollow Refugee Camp, Ukatis

Joa winced at the sight of the dead, but she kept her lunch. Her reaction was diluted by the history of her people, by growing up through the desperate end of a civil war that the Kage had won. Corpses were bitter reminders of sentient depravity, and it was that depravity which revolted the senator, not death; death was natural.

But equally revolting was Aurelian’s lack of empathy. It surprised Joa to see him so bitterly pragmatic, especially when she witnessed how deeply coming a blade’s edge from death had disturbed him. On Quarzite, as a girl, she’d have bit her tongue. Wrestled with the emotion until she silently tired it out. In the Republic, though, she’d had a voice, one her people gifted her to use.

“Perhaps you could arrange some compassion, Interim Chancellor,” Joa said harshly. She put an arm over Corazona, light as a feather but weighted with unspoken apologies. “Ukatis may become the frontline of this war, but it could very well be Quarzite. Or Naboo.”

Her jaw was set and soft pink eyes were fixed on the man before her. She knew he was doing his best given the circumstances. It was unfathomable to consider the lives of not only your own Republic, but the crumbling Alliance as well—lives you’ve never been responsible for or sympathetic towards until now. Joa did not envy him, but that didn’t mean she had to excuse him, either.

“The Republic is deeper than defense wings and fleets. We care for the living, yes. Protect them. But the dead are equally important. They died believing in hope and peace. The bodies on the table were denied both, and it’s our responsibility to ensure they are put to rest with dignity.”

Joa stepped around the slabs and pulled the sheets over the departed. She looked to Cora first, with softened eyes. “Lady von Ascania, I will take care of these for you.”

They’d receive Kage funeral rites and what few herbs she had left in her briefcase, but it was far better than being dumped in unmarked graves.

She looked to Aurelian next, a flash of disappointment. “Please, my friend… don’t forget your humanity amidst this terrible situation. It’s what made the Republic what it is today. Do not forsake it.”

And with that, Joa positioned the gurneys so that she was pushing one before her and pulling one behind. She made for the exit, ducking out of the tent and into the foggy air. The light hit her face, but she could see no sun. Its warmth was there, though, and despite the horrors surrounding her, Joa knew that one day soon, the sun would shine on the people who disparaged tyranny.

Tags: Aurelian Veruna | Corazona von Ascania | OPEN​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Oh, and just when she was beginning to maybe like him, too. Cora was already negotiating with one brat who was sending her stomach into disarray; she didn't need another.

Fortunately, Joa was quick to admonish Aurelian for his lack of compassion in the moment, which left the healer with a few precious moments to swallow down the rising bile and sort herself out. Strangely, she found no glee in watching the Chancellor be lectured.

Deep down though, his words rang with a certain amount of truth. She should be able to hold herself together a little better. Maybe she'd asked for a little too much, too. War made things difficult far beyond the battlefield.

"Thank you," she managed to rasp as Senator Sodi descended upon the task that Aurelian had been quick to reject. The canvas of the tent swayed gently as she departed, and Cora's eyes lingered not on the woman who ushered them away, but on the stark white shrouds that covered the departed.

They remained there for a few moments, staring at empty space of the tarp Joa had disappeared through. Then, she sighed, and knelt down to pry the lid from the crate Aurelian had carried in.

"I suppose morning sickness doesn't necessarily need to be confined to the morning,” she grumbled.

Cora tossed a ration bar to Aurelian, then procured one for herself. They were both irritated and overworked, so perhaps the powers that be would forgive them if they took a small break.

The foil packet crinkled as she unwrapped what appeared to be an unappetizing brown brick. Cora chewed slowly, finding it just as boring as it looked, but surprisingly not inoffensive to her fussy stomach.

"Well," she said, the line of her throat bobbing as she swallowed down a hunk of nutrients. "I'm not going to pile on to all that. But I'd argue that you're useful beyond strategy and diplomacy. After all, you came here, didn't you? And not for a publicity visit."

Cora couldn't help the lump in her throat at the idea of Ukatis being on the frontlines. Again. Her home had been sacked twice, and though moving under Republic protection had proved itself to be the wiser choice than remaining among the collapsing Alliance, Ukatis was still on the Sith border.

She just hoped that the Republic wouldn’t fall prey to what had weakened the Alliance; red tape and forced that were spread too thin to manage their territory.

"What have you arranged, then?"

Aurelian Veruna Joa Sodi

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Refugee world
Tags: Corazona von Ascania

Aurelian rolled his eyes the moment Joa's back turned. It wasn't subtle, it was theatrical, the kind of eye-roll that could be heard even if no one saw it. "Right," he muttered under his breath, "because nothing says compassion like hauling corpses while vomiting in a bucket."

As the senator disappeared through the flap of the tent, he leaned closer to Cora and muttered, "What's her problem? I'm not the one trying to redecorate the med bay with stomach acid." It wasn't cruel, just tired, frayed honesty from someone running on fumes and ego.

He dropped onto an overturned crate with a sigh that felt ripped from his spine, catching the ration bar she tossed. "Thank you," he said begrudgingly, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth. "A gourmet meal."

The moment the food hit his mouth, his mind wandered back to politics and strategy, the thing his brain latched onto when everything else felt unmanageable. "I'm not keeping a fleet here," he began, talking around a mouthful of compressed nutrients. "Not long-term. Ukatis isn't meant to be a fortress world. But temporarily? Yes. Enough to deter the Sith from making a push while the Alliance collapses on itself."

His fingers drummed anxiously against his knee. "I've been in talks with the Quesaya System and Epica. They're receptive to Republic membership if we actually invest in their systems. In exchange, they'll take responsibility for holding the Black Wall. Sector-wide defense, established choke points, the works. It'll buy Ukatis breathing room. Maybe even give it some peace for once."

He stared at nothing for a moment, rubbing his jaw. "And with all these refugees pouring in, we need stability. For them. And..."

He stopped mid-sentence. Blinked. Morning sickness.

His head snapped toward her, fully processing the words she'd tossed out so casually. "Morning sickness?" he echoed. "Corazona von Ascania... are you with child?" His voice pitched up, scandal and disbelief in equal measure. Then louder, sharp with incredulity: "And you are HERE?" He gestured wildly at the med tent, the corpses, the chaos. "Among contagions, blood, exhaustion, lifting bodies... Shiraya, Cora, have you lost your mind?"

​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Compassion isn't always pretty," Cora offered, gesturing to the gritty reality around them. "Sometimes it's just doing what needs to be done."

A murmur of surprise was suppressed behind a sigh as she seated herself atop the now-sealed crate. She'd half expected Aurelian to turn his nose up at the notion of a ration bar, but it seemed as if hunger had won out.

"A deterrent," Cora repeated, as if she wasn't certain how that word felt in her mouth. She frowned. "Fabian won't like it."

I won't like it.

"But I wont argue against it being temporary, especially if it'll eventually afford us some breathing room," she admitted. Her gaze flicked toward the nervous tic at his knee, but it didn't linger. "Would be nice for this to be a place of healing for once, rather than one of bloodshed."

"Force knows we're in for tricky times. I was hoping that the Alliance would hold out for a few more months, but it seems that we wake up each day to a new galaxy." Fingers toyed with the metallic edge of the foil as she stared down into the bleak surface of the ration bar. Her stomach rumbled instead of lurching, and she took that as a good sign. Cora helped herself to another bite. "At least the Empire's Death Star isn't in the picture any longer. That'll set them back, if only for a bit."

"Too many hallways on that thing, anyway," she grumbled around a mouthful of nutritional slop.

Aurelian's surprise was no less sharp for how delayed it has been, and line of Cora's throat moved as she swallowed down what felt like a brick.

"For Ashla's sake," she huffed. "I'm pregnant, not crippled."

Her free hand gestured around them, a little lazier than before. "I'm not very far along and I’m taking precautions. That's why I asked you to move the bodies."

She'd promised Makko she'd be careful, and Cora's version of careful seemed to change from day to day.

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: Ukátis
Tags: Corazona von Ascania

Aurelian shot to his feet so abruptly the crate rocked behind him. "Pregnant," he repeated, quieter this time, trying to make it sound less absurd.

He swept an arm at their surroundings; the tent, the stink, the press of bodies and exhaustion. "This is not where someone with child should be. There are diseases here, Cora. Unruly civilians, injuries waiting to happen. And you..." He jabbed a finger at her. "You were in a hover chair not long ago. You attract disaster like a magnet dipped in catastrophe. I am not questioning your capability; I'm questioning your self-preservation instincts, which, frankly, are suspect."

He paced once, fingers dragging through his hair, then turned back sharply. "Does your husband know you're out here? Makko... does he know you're hauling bodies and breathing the same air as half a dozen unknown pathogens? If I had a wife with child, I would not let her set foot in a place like this."

He opened his mouth to continue berating her when a separate thread of her earlier rambling finally struck him like a delayed punch. "Wait. Too many hallways... on the Death Star." He stared, stepped closer, and then hissed: "Please tell me you did not join the attack on the Death Star."

He looked her over as if hunting for scorch marks. "Corazona Von Ascania. Tell me you did not take a starfighter into a moon-sized superweapon built to vaporize planets. You can't possibly be that... You did, didn't you?" He groaned into both hands. "Shiraya save me. And where is Makko? Why is he not dragging you back home?"

​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora's attempt to defuse the tension had all the graceful effect of pouring gasoline onto a fire.

Aurelian began berating her with such unbridled furiosity that all she could do was stare, wide eyed, one cheek curved with a lump of nutrient paste mid-chew like a child being scolded. Which wasn’t far from what was happening, really.

She finally blinked when he jabbed a finger toward her, the motion enough to kick-start a slow, heavy swallow as she forced the ration bar down.

"My self-preser…like a magnet…?" she trailed, stunned. Cora didn't even have the space to gather herself before answering, so utterly distracted by the shift in Aurelian. Where had the smooth-talking, sharp-tongued King of Naboo gone, and who had replaced him with a fussy governess?

"He knows that I'm here!" She protested, trying to wave off his concern with a limp wrist.

Granted, Makko didn't know exactly what she was doing at the moment. Setting broken bones was one thing, but she imagined that he'd certainly have something to say about her handling the truly sick and deceased.

"Jedi are good at filtering out pathogens," she insisted, banking on the hope that Aurelian wouldn't know too much about the particulars of Jedi abilities, brushing past the fact that detoxify was based more around the idea of expunging poisons than it was filtering out microbes.

It was…kind of amusing, in a weird sort of way. Almost endearing. Above all, it was as honest as she'd ever seen Aurelian Veruna.

Unfortunately, the Chancellor's tirade hadn't dulled his perceptiveness. Cora grimaced as he leaned closer, a faint, sheepish flush painting her cheeks as she was chided for an act that she couldn't technically deny.

"For the record," she addended meekly, hands held up in defense. "I didn't know I was pregnant until after the Death Star. And the Dark Side Elite that I faced didn’t get any good shots in!”

Another bite of the ration bar, the motion somehow indignant from chewing to swallowing.

“I found out in the medbay, actually."

Cora was too tired, or too struck by the sheer fact that she was being censured so vehemently to put up a proper defense.

"He's here, too, somewhere. Working on communications, I think," she rolled her wrist, trying to dissuade Aurelian from marching out of the tent to retrieve her husband. "Makko's always been good with tech, and it's important work given the blackouts we've been having, so I'd rather not disturb him."

Finally worked a little out of her stupor, Cora huffed and gestured to their surroundings.

"There are dozens of women here with child. If this is the best that we can do for them, then it's good enough for me!"

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: UKATIS
Tags: Corazona von Ascania

Aurelian stared at her. The limp-wristed dismissal, the sheepish chew of the ration bar, the "I didn't know I was pregnant during the superweapon trench run" - something inside him simply snapped.

"That's it," he declared, already turning toward the tent flap. "I'm sending for Makko." He shot his hand up. "No. No, do not try to Force-wave me into calm. He deserves to know you're out here elbow-deep in plague victims while carrying his child. Jedi or not."

He paced again, sharp, controlled strides, moving like someone trying very hard not to start shouting in a crowded medical ward. "And spare me the 'Jedi can filter pathogens' routine. Anything can happen and you know it." He stopped and rounded on her. "Jedi catch colds, Cora. I've seen it. I've witnessed grown, enlightened space-monks sneeze themselves into oblivion."

Aurelian dragged both hands down his face, exasperation radiating off him. His voice dropped now, losing its frantic edge and becoming far more earnest. "You are not just another woman here with child. You are Corazona von Ascania. Your child will be the heir to House Ascania. That matters here. On this planet. To these people. To the Great Houses. To the Republic."

He gestured around them again, slower this time, the anger ebbing into worry. "You should treat yourself and the pregnancy as such." With a heavy exhale, he lowered himself onto the crate again, palming his forehead. Silence stretched for a beat before he spoke, softer. "I know you're capable. I know you want to help. That's half of why you terrify me, frankly."

His gaze met hers. "But this isn't selflessness, Cora. It's carelessness. And that is not what this situation calls for." He shook his head, conviction solidifying. "I would never let my wife.... step foot in a place like this while carrying my child. Not because she isn't capable, but because common sense exists, and refugee camps," he swept a blunt hand toward the chaos outside the tent, "are where common sense comes to die."

​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora bolted upward when Aurelian went for the tent flap. Her arm had only partially extended when he'd raised a hand, dissuading her from trying to use her Jedi mind-tricks to distract his temper.

"I was thinking more along the lines of catatonia, but fine," she grumbled. At least he'd gone back to pacing and beratement, which honestly, was preferable over him contacting Makko.

Cora raised both hands, this time in a sign of yielding rather than defense. "Alright, point begrudgingly taken. I'll move to one of the well tents." Before being sorted into the sprawling canvas infirmary block, all refugees were given a cursory health screen. Infection spread easily in close quarters. "If it pleases the King, I'll spend my time setting broken bones and portioning out medicines. But pregnant women have been working in all sorts of conditions since women could become pregnant."

Cora dropped back down onto the crate with a muted thud. Suddenly, the ration bar didn't seem as appetizing. Small wonder. There was plenty of work to be done in the refugee camp that wasn't ask risky, so why had she gravitated towards something that could potentially be harmful to her pregnancy?

Perhaps old habits died hard. Perhaps, as Aurelian had so gently put it, she wasn't entirely in her right mind, either.

"Terrify you?" It was her turn to lift a scrutinizing brow, but she didn't press further. The notion that he wouldn't let his wife, no matter how capable set foot in a refugee sick ward pulled her brow further. Was he, perhaps, picturing someone specific in that particular role?

Before Lady Velvet's curiosity had the chance to creep into her expression, Cora felt weight of her title closing in. Any mischief that lingered in the corners of her mind was put swiftly under control.

"Need I remind you that I am not Ukatis' regent. Moreover," she rolled her wrist, beginning to pick up steam "The Ascania line has ten children. We won't be short of heirs to carry on the family name, that's for certain."

Cora leaned forward, elbows digging into her knees as she tucked her clasped hands beneath her chin. The ration bar lay abandoned in her lap for now.

"I...don't know if I want this child to be the heir for anything," she admitted quietly. There was a softening to her expression, one that was almost as raw as her nerves. "You and I both know what sort of expectations that brings upon a child," her jaw worked beneath her skin before she continued on a low, harsh breath, "What it's like to grow up in a noble house, with a title hanging over your head like a guillotine. The assassinations, the games, how moving even one hair out of place at the wrong time could bring ruin on your entire family-"

The longer she spoke for, the more her voice wavered, unsteady, until Cora lurched forward and clasped a hand over her mouth to muffle a sudden sob. She was just as quick to draw in a shuddering breath through her nose, an attempt to steady the cadence of her breathing before it she'd lost control of it entirely.

"Force," she whispered, blinking tears from the corners of her eyes, "I-I don't want that for her!"

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: ukatis
Tags: Corazona von Ascania

Aurelian let out a long, exhausted breath when she finally conceded. "Good. Fine. The well tents are… acceptable. But don't pretend that keeps you safe from everything. One of these fools could lash out, panic, or shove someone. Injured people are unpredictable. And if someone harms you…" He flicked a hand sharply, stopping himself. "That becomes your husband's problem, I suppose. Mine is to warn you. I've warned you."

He eased back down beside her, the crate creaking under the shift in weight. For once, he didn't fill the silence with commentary. He just listened.

Her confession unraveled, slow and brittle, fear threaded between each word. Aurelian didn't interrupt when her voice wavered, when her shoulders curled, or even when the sob slipped free and she tried to smother it. He simply stayed, hands steepled loosely between his knees, jaw tight but eyes steady.

When she finally fell quiet, he exhaled through his nose, calmer now and reasonable.

"Maybe you're not Ukatis' regent," he said quietly, "but that's not how they see it. Fabian may warm the throne, but you," he tapped two fingers against his temple, "you make the decisions that keep this world from imploding. They know it. The Republic knows it."

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but close. "And of the ten Ascania children, I know of two. Those two alone are enough evidence that you are… unfortunately… the only competent hope this planet has. And by extension, the Republic."

He looked away then, some tight, private thought snagging him for a moment: the weight of expectations, the future carved before birth. If he ever had a child, would they be shackled to the same crown-shaped chains? Surely. Nobility made heirs, and heirs inherited burdens. It's not like he was in love with some commoner, she was far from that. His child was destined to go through the same grueling upbringing. He shook the thought aside.

"Do we even have a choice?" he murmured. "We were born into names that command planets. Whatever child you have, it will inherit expectations whether you bless them or not."

He tilted his head, studying her with surprising softness. "But if you don't want that life for her… why not leave? Why not take Makko and vanish into the Outer Rim? A child with no House, no title, no crown hanging overhead. Freedom." His voice dropped, almost a whisper. "What stops you?"

​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The conversation unfolded like a brewing tea kettle; the harsh, whistling steam had now abated, giving way to vapors that curled slow and lazy, hanging in the air as if they held their own sort of weight.

Something in Cora couldn't quite believe, as her vulnerability peeked through the cracks, that Aurelian hadn't pounced on it to his advantage. He easily could have. He still might. He'd been trained to, because that was how their type survived.

Why not leave?

Cora's lips parted, trembling in place. Why not leave? A part of her was surprised that he'd even suggested it, but perhaps another part of her, buried deep away, believed that many aristocrats might've privately entertained the same thought at one point or another.

"We…we almost did, once," she murmured. Her voice caught, ragged and exhausted. It took her a few long moments to gather her thoughts, then her words. "Right before my wedding to Horace. I wish I had. Ashla, we were just kids."

"Starlin thought I should have come up with some plan to whisk you away. And...I could, you know. I reckon I could make us dissappear. Take us far away. From them."

There were a few times during the engagement where she'd looked up flights to Ord Mantell.

Cora curled her sleeve around her fingers and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She felt almost silly, now, but it felt wrong to stop the flow of conversation when he was being uncharacteristically…kind.

"I went through with the marriage because I thought it was the right thing for Ukatis - for my family. And it did help them."

Personal cost notwithstanding.

Her lips quivered into something that tried to be a smile, but couldn't quite make it. Finally, she found the wherewithal to tilt her reddened gaze toward Aurelian.

Their first meeting had been a test - one where they measured each other with sharp words and subtle gestures.

This was something honest. And for that, it was far more terrifying.

"If I'm what's keeping Ukatis from imploding, then how can I, in good conscience, leave now? Especially after everything that's happened."

The rebellion, the secession, and now a period of potential advancement. "It would feel like…I was abandoning my child, almost."

Cora drew in a slow, heavy breath that helped to steady her breathing. In a way, she hated the web of expectation she'd woven herself into - because now she was bringing another life into it.

"I just want her to be happy. I suppose that'll have to be balanced with her Name."

At some point, Cora's hand had come to rest protectively over her stomach. It moved up and down, idly stroking along her abdomen as if she could feel a curve there, however slight. In a way, she felt a little lighter for having those concerns off of her chest - especially when they landed on the ears of someone who would understand.

"Sorry for the tears," she sighed. Cora tilted her head back, stretching the stiffness from her neck. "It's her fault," she grumbled, "making me crazy already."

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: UKATISSSSSS
Tags: Corazona von Ascania

Aurelian froze at the sight of her blotchy cheeks and trembling mouth, reacting as though someone had just handed him an active thermal detonator. He stared at her, stiff as durasteel, then extended one hand very slowly and gave her back a single, deeply awkward pat. The crate creaked under the pressure. It also made him wince.

"Right. There, there," he muttered, sounding like a man who had only ever comforted wounded soldiers or startled animals. He withdrew the hand immediately, as if physical affection were contagious, but he didn't pull away from her completely this time. He listened, really listened, as she spoke about nearly running, about choosing her duty, and about the trap woven from loyalty and expectations. Something in him eased, like a muscle unclenching.

When she finished, Aurelian exhaled softly. "I get it," he said. "All of it. The weight, the guilt. The pull." His voice gentled, for once not sharpened by wit. "I've thought of escaping too. A simple life." He huffed a breath that wasn't quite a laugh. "But I love Naboo. Parrlay. My people. I'd feel the same if I stayed away too long; it would feel like abandonment."

He looked at her, at the way her hand rested protectively over her stomach, and some old lesson about pouncing on weakness fell away. Maybe it was her tears, or perhaps Sibylla had softened him...

"She will be happy, Cora." His tone left no room for doubt. "She has a mother who cares the way you do, and a father who'd burn the world down to protect her. She has a home full of people who love her." He hesitated, then added, quieter, "And if you needed it, I would be there for her too. You said to prove I'd care for Ukatis. Your daughter is part of that future."

It was earnest. Too earnest. He realized it and recoiled from the sincerity like it burned.

"Ugh, Shiraya, enough of this," he groaned, pushing himself abruptly to his feet as if shaking off a heavy cloak. His hands cut sharply through the air. "Point is... if you want my help? Fine. You have it. But with it comes expectations." He jabbed at her with two fingers. "And if I ever find you with your daughter in a place like this... I swear to Shiraya, Cora, I will personally carry the both of you back to the palace and lock you in a tower."

​

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Even if yer givin’ an awfullotta pet names to someone whose name you do know.’

Something of the old prince crept back into the boy and he frowned, "What, Duke? That's his title..."

Not a pet name. Unless of course she was jesting with him. Again. He sighed through the nose and shook his head at her and her crossed arms and reproachful blue-eyed stare.

"It doesn't matter," he rasped, looking past her to the refugees trundling. Many had blankets wrapped around their shoulders. He tried to recall if he saw such sights after Tion's ravaging, but remembered only the fire and the obliterated orbital stations falling like a thousand shooting stars across the sky.

Tansu did not think that he could fail, but he wondered how much she knew beyond the stories about who and what they truly faced. The Solipsist imperials were pale shadows beside the horrors inflicted by the Sith who lurked beyond their Black Wall. Solipsists might simply kill you. Kainites would ensure it was painful and keep you alive as long as possible.

A memory of his meeting with Empyrean flickered through his mind. He set it aside. Best not to dwell on that with her so near. It must be different for her, since her grandmother had killed Carnifex after all. It painted a different story. That good always triumphed. But Tydeus knew better.

No matter how honorable the soldier. No matter how bright the cause. Good did not always win. Sometimes good died in the dirt, grasping for righteousness. What did all the justness of the cause grant them then? Not even the mercy of a good death.

Still, he didn't think she would understand. She hadn't suffered enough. And it was wrong to try to make her understand or to even hope she had to go through the same pain.

Instead, Tydeus only asked, "Where are we helping next?"

Tansu Treicolt

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

If there was one thing that Cora had not expected out of this part-conversation-part-beratement, it was to be patted on the back by Aurelian Veruna.

And yet, she recognized it as a genuine intent to comfort precisely because it was so awkward. The whole thing was so completely out of left field and insanely stiff that it paralyzed all of those messy feelings - the grief, the fear, the anxiety - and all that was left was the sheer fact of how absurd this was that she could only laugh.

A soft, little laugh that bubbled up between sniffles and a hiccup. The corners of her trembling lips couldn't help the faint upturn into amusement.

"And here I thought you were just another no-good spoiled prince," she murmured, dabbing again at her eyes and trying to rub the ruddiness from her cheeks.

Then came his offer, in a voice quieter and softer than she'd thought him capable. Cora could only blink at him while her features slowly pulled in silent surprise.

A switch flicked, and with a groan, Aurelian was back. He levied another jab at her, sincere and Veruna-brand sharp. This time, she chuckled weakly.

This had taken a strange turn, but not wholly unpleasant. Cora exhaled slowly and stood, stretching her arms overhead.

"Alright," she conceded, a little breezier than before. Her arms dropped down to her sides."I suppose Lady Abrantes was right about you. Hang on to her," Cora tilted her head ever so slightly, peering at Aurelian from the corner of her eyes. "She has good insight, and seems to be your biggest champion."

As much as she'd admired Sibylla's measured demeanor and dedication to the Republic, the Ukatian been uncertain about her support for the Prince of Parrlay.

"I'll be more mindful of…my condition. I suspect it'll be harder to ignore as time goes on." She gave her abdomen a pat. "As long as she has people looking out for her, that's good enough for me."

Somewhere along the way, she realized that they'd dropped formality to the point of using first names.

"And you, Aurelian," she returned, with less venom and a little more warmth than before, "you spend all of your time looking after the Republic and her people."

Cora spread her arms in a broad gesture to the backdrop they'd found themselves in. Never in a millenia would she have guessed that he'd come here to quietly help. Without a camera crew and makeup artist on hand.

"Make sure you make some time to look after yourself, too. You won't be able to serve the Republic if you exhaust yourself into an early grave."

Aurelian Veruna

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: FINALLY, i'm outta here
Tags: Corazona von Ascania

Aurelian's eyebrow arched the moment she mentioned Lady Abrantes, the expression sliding lazily into a smirk.

"Ah," he drawled, "so you have been gossiping about me. I knew it. You noble women can't help yourselves; I walk into a room and suddenly I'm the main topic of conversation." He flicked an invisible speck from his sleeve, smug as can be. "It's fine. I understand the burden of being this captivating."

He laughed. This wasn't the sharp, weaponized sound from Senate chambers. Instead, it was warmer, freer. It was the kind that belonged here, in the quiet hum of a makeshift camp far from marble floors and chandeliers.

Her advice made him pause. She was right, in an irritating way that made him acknowledge it. He huffed.

"Yes, yes, take care of myself. I hear you." His tone lightened. "Though maybe if I worked myself near an early grave, I'd finally get that simple life in the Outer Rim. A tiny house on a nameless moon, free of meetings…" His eyes went unfocused for half a second, drifting through the fantasy.

Then he clicked back to attention with a dismissive wave. "No, you're right. What would they do without me? What other Chancellor would be here stacking crates and dodging falling debris? I might as well be a saint. They should erect statues. Several of them, actually, and in flattering poses."

The grin he threw her was all teeth and trouble, but it softened at the edges as he studied her again, steadier this time.

A moment of quiet settled between them before he nodded toward the distant landing pads. "I think I'm ready to get off this rock. I've got a date, one I'm very much looking forward to." His smirk curved into something smaller, more honest. "And something tells me we'll be seeing each other again soon."

His gaze dipped to her abdomen, gentle with a mischief-muted reverence.

"I look forward to meeting the little one."

​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Somehow, Aurelian's return to form didn't rile her as much as she thought it would - but it did earn him an eye roll. "Captivating? I suppose they’ll call anyone captivating these days."

Cora clicked her tongue, but her expression lacked its usual edge of admonishment. Without meaning to, their conversation had found a natural warmth.

"What other Chancellor? Organa, for one - all the humanitarian focus with a fraction of the ego," she tsked. A moment followed where she let her attention drift backward, seeping into her days with the Alliance. Cut too short, perhaps by her own hand, but she'd recognized the unraveling of a galactic power when she saw it. Had Ukatis' secession contributed to the speed of its collapse?

That line of thought became clouded by marble statues of Aurelian in the most ridiculous of flashy poses. Abstract as the vision had been, she swore she'd seen the stem a rose clenched between his teeth.

Cora was quick to shake that thought away, heading for the drawn edges of cavas.

"As am I," she murmured, lips quirking upward in a little smile. Her hand cradled the flat her abdomen. "Enjoy your date, Aurelian - I daresay that you've earned your rest."

She nudged a hand along the tent flap, lifting the opening so that she could pass through. Suddenly, she turned, eyes locking back onto the Chancellor with a measure of playful mirth.

"Do give Queen Abrantes my best."

Then, she was gone.

[Exit]

Aurelian Veruna