Faction Food for the many, a smile for a picture, and a show of compassion.

[Alexandra Feanor]

Corellia, Two Weeks after the Fall of the Deep Core

Link for the Ranch if you are there

Dracken Pryce Lander Stalwart​

---

The fall of the Deep Core had left many to escape and run, fearing persecution or death from the Imperial Regime as it took over. There were those who could not escape or leave, and they would be left behind because of that, but those who could escape arrived with little to their name. Even now Corellia, a world who's people lived in Slums or Estates, at the highest towers of Coronet City, or the deepest pits of the scrapyards. It was a world that truly showed the extremes of the society that had been built up over tens of thousands of years.

And now it was a world that strained under the stress of the innumerable masses that made their way onto the planet. Food needed to help sustain these new people crowding slums or quickly fabricated camps just so that they can be moved on or find somewhere to settle down once more. It was one of many worlds that found themselves in this position but in this instance there was a chance for people to do more and to help. An idea born from the altruism of the Senator Lander Stalwart took form and with the help of some connections, food was brought from his world to Corellia, food that could be used to feed those in need of it thanks to the rush of refugees.

All the while, a call for more support and recognition had gone out.

Senators were called to gather, to provide them a chance to show they stood in Unity against the very cause of this influx of refugees, but also to give them a chance for more personal campaigning. To let them have their pictures taken, to show them aiding in the distribution of food, to see them working with local elites and business owners who could aid in further distribution. Even to see that the refugees could be moved further on, away from Corellia and away from the Deep Core where their future was more possible.

This was why Alexandra had reached out to Dracken Pryce, asked for his aid in the matter and to see the Senators had somewhere to gather and collect that wasn't in the middle of a slum. A place where those who cared could travel from to help distribute food, or those who simply wanted the publicity could enjoy the day while they atleast put on a show of unity.

It was a small gesture, but one that was just as important as any battle on the field.

 

[Lander Stalwart]

Corellia
Tags: Open

Lander's Blaster Pistol, Lander's Prosthetic Arm
​

"Hey, could you maybe save the camera for another time?"

"I-"

"I know, but there will be plenty of opportunity for PR... let's try not to overwhelm people, yeah?"

Lander had shooed away a cameraman so he could turn his attention fully to a young boy. Refugees had come in from all over the Core and wound up here. While it was good that they could help, sometimes they needed to dial things back so proper conversation could occur. The boy in question, a zabrak teen likely no older than 13, was sat on a retaining wall. He had a few broken horns, damage from the roof of his home caving. Lander was sat next to him, his hands patiently folded in front of him.

"I don't think big brother is going to come back," the boy stated, clearly trying his best to sound unaffected. "They... said his squad... went quiet on the communicator..."

"I'm sorry..." Lander offered in a soft tone.

"Are you?" the young man asked, sounding a little snappy. "You're just saying that out of pity..."

"I lost my older brother," the senator expressed. "He was a soldier too... he's the reason why I became a soldier."

"Oh... s-sorry..."

"No, it's okay," Lander assured. "You're frustrated... angry... heartbroken. I get it. When Ma received Oren's tags, I was boiling over... I just wanted to pick up the nearest gun and charge straight out for Tython. I didn't care about anything except ripping apart the Maw... I was too young to enlist, so I didn't ever get to go. That was probably for the best."

"But... what about... avenging your brother?"

"My brother died to defend his home," he stated. "To keep his family safe. Give us a future. Sometimes chasing that anger recklessly throws away everything that the people who sacrificed themselves fought for. We'll all get our chance... Live a little, for your brother. Remember what he fought and died for. And when you enlist, if you enlist, make sure you've done your best to leave behind something good in the galaxy. Protect like he did... if we set out to destroy, we become our enemy. If we become our enemy, we've lost."

The young teen didn't say anything. He quickly wiped away a tear and keep his face stoic.

"I will... sir."

And with that, the boy got up and ran away into the crowd. Lander let out a sigh, crossing his arms. He knew as well as anyone else he could never convince someone with conviction in their heart not to go to war. He remembered what he had been like. All he could do was offer the words nobody had told him. With luck, he'd find what he needed with time.

He only hoped that what he had offered was good enough.

 

[Monaray Dod]

Everything gone....

Monaray was not typically one to weep yet on this day at the Starlight Ranch, he found himself shedding tears for his cherished Cato Neimoidia which had fallen to the Galactic Empire in a swift campaign that left the Trade Federation unprepared and terrified by such an overwhelming display of force against a mere assembly of corporations and financiers.

There was nothing they could have done to avert the submission of the the Purse-Worlds into the Imperial Sphere of Influence, as the New Jedi Order was preoccupied with defending Coruscant, while a majority of the Defense Forces were stationed along the border with the Sith Order.

They could not afford to divert their attention to one of the financial supporters of the Galactic Alliance.

With Kuat and Humbarine lost, this also meant the loss of two shipyards, leading to the departure of their corporations and leaving the Alliance's financial situation in a precarious state, as the core was lost. One hundred worlds rich in industry now surrendered to a nefarious Galactic Emperor and his associates.

He opened a small crack in the window of the JPP-192 Limospeeder,

"Bleh...so this is the place that former Vice-Chancellor Pryce chooses to live. A desolate...smelly...abomination in the middle of nowhere. We could have convened in cornet city where they have basic sanitation." Dod's hand quickly went to the lever to push the window back up and prevent his senses from being overwhelmed by the atmosphere.

 

[Arsenio Tagge]

The Pride of the Core was, by all accounts, an old ship. There was no rust or ruin. Just quiet groans carrying the dying legacy of the House of Tagge. The Tepasi Defense Fleet, or rather what remained of it, trailed in its wake like a disbanded honor guard: scattered gunships, dented frigates, and a handful of crusiers, old and new clinging to anchorages along the orbital grid. Beneath them stretched Corellia, whole and frantic—its surface blanketed with field hospitals, and refugees.

Baron Arsenio Tagge stood at the forward gallery, arms clased behind his back, boots planted as if bracing for something that hadn't yet arrived. He did not speak as the Pride completed its descent pattern—he only watched, jaw tight, gaze fixed on the continent below. He had not come to see his colleagues. The Senate was no war room, not yet at least. No, he had come for the displaced masses who now looked to any crest—noble or otherwise—for food, water, or reassurance. The people of Tepasi had found refuge here, as temporary as it might have been.

Still, it was not ideal.

He turned from the gallery. His boots echoed against the deck as officers and aides stepped aside instinctively, not daring to address him in his current state. The walk to the single shuttle carried aboard the Pride was short, but it gave him enough time to reflect. He said nothing as the bay doors opened and the pale blue lights of the hangar washed over him. The shuttle waited, engines warm, ramp lowered. Tagge did not break stride. He boarded with the stillness of a man carrying something heavy and unspoken.

Someone below would have advice, resources, or both. He had an idea of who.

"Bring us down near Starlight Ranch."

Monaray Dod​

 

[Alicio Organa]

CORELLIA
THE AFTERMATH
- OPEN -
​

What could one do, when a legacy lasting decades filtered like sand through your fingertips?

You picked up the pieces. One by one. With care, and dilligence. You fight for every grain you have left, with every bit of strength you have left. And you hope.

Was that enough? Would it ever be enough? Alicio didn't know. All the foresight in the galaxy couldn't predict where it would all fall. He just had to pick up the pieces.

Pick up the pieces.

The words had seldom left his mind, as his armada of SELCORE relief ships touched down on Corellia. Alderaan itself couldn't keep up with the sudden influx of refugees, but they were more prepared for it than most. Shuttles full of temporary shelters, food, water, medical supplies, an armory of relief, descended from the heavens, with Chancellor Organa himself leading the charge. The ships dispersed across the planet, leaving Alicio's personal entourage with... not enough. Not nearly enough.

Pick up the pieces.

The black-cloaked Chancellor strode out from his ship, followed by a parade of attendants and medics. He immediately got to work barking orders like he'd done it all his life. Within minutes, a camp sprang up around the circle of Alderaanian ships, soup warming on burners, and plastic tents with burnt-red crosses decontaminating their interiors.

It was hard not to feel... powerless. All the political pull in the galaxy, and he couldn't hold together an Alliance. But running a camp? That, he could do.

Only when his wing of the relief became fully self-sufficient did Alicio pause to rest, finding a seat near his ships, and letting his hands restlessly play against each other. Now that all was in order... he had nothing to do. And when it was silent, the mind wandered.

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Corellia had opened its gates to the refugees from Coruscant. Other worlds followed suit, mounting huge efforts to supply aid and relief. But as was always the case, it was never enough. The galaxy was simply too big, the volume of suffering beyond any hope of curing completely. Still, the workers kept their chins up. "Helping even one person is enough," they said.

It didn't feel like enough. Especially when you were in the thick of it, surrounded by the smell of blood and death.

Eloise followed the trail of bodies, pursuing the sick and injured to the makeshift camps where they inevitably gathered, huddling around portable heaters and sipping soup between cracked lips. There she would use the Force and her medical knowledge to heal them. She lived like a metronome otherwise, keeping to a strict regimen. She ate, slept, even worked out if she had the time. But she had no hobbies, no friends, no social interactions beyond the strained exchange between doctor and patient. It was hard to relate to people when they were always screaming in pain, wide-eyed with terror, or sobbing with grief. That was fine with her. She wasn't looking for companionship anymore. She had learned it wasn't worth the heartbreak.

Very little could break her pattern. After all, war and its consequences were predictable. So when something unexpected hit, it was like a bomb had been dropped on her.

Amani's stepping down as Chief Healer.

She froze when she heard the news, delivered via datapad. Her master wrote the message herself, addressed to her apprentice. She said she was busy with other pursuits, wanted to focus on the Vonnuvi Enclave and devote more time to her family. But all Eloise could think about was herself. It broke up her careful routine and forced her to actually think for once. About the future, and all the uncertainties it held.

There had been rumors of dissent and bad blood within the NJO, and it hadn't been that long since the Grandmaster opted to leave and start her own enclave; maybe it had something to do with that, too. Come to think of it, she didn't have a clue what was really going on in the Alliance, either. As long as it didn't affect her directly, she hadn't cared to keep up.

Just beyond the entrance flap to the medic tent, she spotted a familiar figure dressed in dark colors. She hadn't seen Alicio in a while, but his face was on the news often enough that it was impossible not to recognize him. Lowering her hand, she put down the bottle of antiseptic and the roll of bandages she had been holding then walked out of the tent, reaching him in a few short strides. For a few moments she hesitated, as if pausing to remember how to start a conversation with someone who wasn't crying.

"Hey," she said. "Long time no see." Then, in her customary blunt fashion, she added, "I just got a message from your wife. She said she's leaving the Jedi Council. What the hell is going on?"

Alicio Organa​

 

[Dracken Pryce]

Arsenio Tagge | Monaray Dod | OPEN

​

"Take that there! Yep! Careful now, don't lift with your back!"

Draken grunted, lifting the last of the food crates with another volunteer. Dozens of crates filled with processed, canned meats from his farm were headed off to one of the refugee camps that he had ordered buit during the Empire's campaign in the Deep Core. He'd seen the writing on the wall and prepared what he could. With an influx of Alliance sympathizers from worlds like Humbarine and Kuat, and millions of refugees flooding in from across the Core and Deep Core, not just Coruscant, he had been forced to crack open Corellia's emergency food stores. It was an act that, had he been head of state in any other planet, he would have been voted out. Luckily for him, Diktat was a life-long position, only given up when the holder died or abdicated. They weren't a true dictatorship though- His opposition in the Corellian Council had tried to force a vote of no confidence, claiming that he'd put the entire Corellian system at risk by giving preferential treatment to foreign refugees.

It didn't pass.

Ever since the Sularen's escape and the odd way the Forgotten Sons had been implicated in the war criminal's escape, support for the terrorist group had dwindled and their political supporters were finally free of the yoke of extremists. Though the Children of the Belt still didn't see eye to eye with Draken, their shift made it easy to rally support from the Centerpoint and Five Brothers parties as well as a miriad of indipendents that represented smaller worlds within the Corellian Sector. Now though, he had to show them that it was worth it putting their support behind this old man.

War was on the horizon. Imperial scout ships pranced on the borders of Duro and even along the Corellian Run and Trade Spine near the Confederation's borders. An invasion was likely coming soon, and he needed to be sure he had the Alliance's support in handling this refugee crisis and defending his people. They had given up too much to be forsaken now.

"Sir." A green armored CDF trooper called to get his attention. Draken turned to look where the man was pointed and raised a curious brow. Several speeders were making their way to his garage, their immaculate design and sleep profile marking them as VIP vessels. Draken sighed and wiped his hands on his work towel before picking up his bantha leather jacket and slipping it on.

He was in workwear; a breathable, collared work shirt of white; His bloodstripe military pants; his long white hair tied up in a ponytail bun to keep it out of his face as he worked. He wore thick gloves and heavy, durasteel toed boots as well, the pomp of his rank and status nonexistent. Draken approached the landing vehicles, a Darksaber trooper at his heel and waited, arms folded across his chest, for the beings to exit.

 

[Monaray Dod]

Dracken Pryce Arsenio Tagge

The JPP-192 Limospeeder gradually slowed to a crawl before coming to a complete halt in the parking area, providing the Neimoidian with his first genuine view of the residence's size and the surrounding rolling hills that appeared entirely ordinary. The noticeable wood and durasteel exterior, along with the sizable pond and a garage that could easily fit several speeders, were evident by his own estimation.

This residence resembled more of a wealthy landowner's estate than that of the Diktat of Corellian Space. Perhaps if Dracken had allocated more resources towards security instead of on nerfs, Marlon Sularen might not have managed to escape so effortlessly and return as a persistent nuisance within the Dark Empire.

His eyes ultimately focused on none other than the man himself, Dracken Pryce , the War Hero of the Galactic Alliance, Diktat of the Corellian Confederation, and, it seems, a farmer. How the mighty have fallen, he allowed a slight smile to appear on his face.

The door was opened by his droid chauffeur, as two Trade Federation Envoys emerged before Dod himself in order to make sure the coast was clear, and once that was confirmed the Senator of Cato Neimoidia approached.

"Ah, Diktat Pryce. I must say that you have a...quaint home." Monaray said with clear disdain evident in his voice before continuing.

"I presume you have heard the news about the Purse-Worlds and New Plympto, both lost to the expanding Galactic Empire. A threat that the Strategic Intelligence Service ought to have warned us about, if they were useful in any capacity." The Neimoidian was evidently unsettled with the Intelligence Arm of the Alliance, as they once more neglected to alert anyone regarding the emergence of the Galactic Empire and the Centrist Party on Balmorra.

 

[Alicio Organa]

CORELLIA
THE AFTERMATH
- Eloise Dinn -
​

Usually, in moments of emotional distress, those steeped in the Light Side felt their connections wane. It was an unfortunate side effect of centering one's strength in control, in peace of self. But Alicio had never quite mastered 'inner peace', one of a few reasons he'd never considered himself a Jedi. His strength was centered in a constant state of vigilance. In concern for the Future, and a compulsive need to see what was coming.

It was in times like this that his Future Vision was inconveniently, annoyingly ahead.

Alicio nearly responded to Eloise before she'd even entered his field of view, before reigning in his tongue, and waiting for the Present to catch up.

"Hello, Eloise." He tidied his expression, finding her eyes with a focused, if frayed, gaze. He paused a moment, stamping his fragile voice into something more solid. "I'm glad you're okay."

So Amani had officially announced it, then? Alicio nodded, the lines on his face softening a little. "She's prioritizing the people that count on her. The Vonnuvi, August and Liana, all the people she helps... they need her. More than a Council Chair does."

He sighed, perhaps a bit heavier than he meant to. "I have half a mind to follow her. But... I can't. Not yet. And I suppose that makes me just a little bit weaker than her."

"Are you alright, Eloise?"

 

[Eloise Dinn]

On closer inspection, Eloise was somewhat startled by what she saw. It hadn't been that long since their last meeting at the battle of Eiattu V - or so she told herself, though truthfully she had lost all track of time. Yet Alicio looked... old, somehow. As if he'd aged beyond his years. That's what being Chancellor of the Galactic Alliance does to you, she supposed. Or it could've just been that he was tired. Eloise probably looked pretty worn out too, underneath the eyeliner and concealer.

"Hello, Eloise. I'm glad you're okay."

She didn't really acknowledge his greeting, her attention clearly laser-focused on hearing his explanation. Amani's departure wasn't unexpected; her timing was. Right in the middle of some kind of crisis of faith for the NJO as a whole, when its leadership was fracturing amid rumors of the return of old foes.

Alicio, she noticed, didn't list himself among Amani's priorities. Maybe he was just being humble.

"I have half a mind to follow her. But... I can't. Not yet. And I suppose that makes me just a little bit weaker than her."

"What are you talking about?" Eloise asked incredulously. "You think she's strong for abandoning the NJO right when everything is falling apart? You want to jump ship with her, fine. But don't try to justify it by calling it something it's not."

Whatever her problems with Alicio were, he had always seemed like an inspirational sort. A symbol of hope. Someone who could lift you up and put you back on the right path without making you feel like you were a bad person or a burden to him. But sometimes he said things that were so far off the mark, she wanted to shake him. One wondered who had hurt him, if this was his takeaway in the Alliance's hour of need.

Probably people like my mother, she thought bitterly. It felt so dystopian, hearing Alicio talk this way. If even the Chancellor had lost hope, then...

"Are you alright, Eloise?"

Oh, now he asks instead of just assuming I'm okay. But she didn't answer. This wasn't about her. "I know she was planning on doing this for a while. She was already more or less out of the chair, she just hadn't made it official..." Eloise rubbed her forehead, averting her gaze. Trying to hide the tears that came unbidden to her eyes. "I'm so tired of watching people give up. I can't do anything about it. I can't stop them from walking away. I hate it."

Alicio Organa​

 

[Sera Mina]

Arrived in: Lysandra-Class Greenhouse

Wearing: this


Objective: Provide relief

The Breath of Lysandra streaked out of Hyperspace, the massive, ten kilometer long ship only avoided being immediately set upon by the Alliance Navy when it was registered that the vessel was completely unarmed.

Sera was utterly crushed emotionally by the fall of the core, like her father Nathan was. Years of charity work to help the core recover from the last war dashed in an instant by the Sith.

She felt little in the way of hope, only a crushing disappointment in The Alliance as she set down in an unarmed relief shuttle from orbit to distribute supplies and medicine.

The one saving grace was that Kytrand was still hidden. They had been forced to abandon it utterly. Easy, relatively speaking. It was under populated, and all the equipment had been shut down to prevent detection.

They had been prepped for evacuation ever since. It was obvious the core would always be a target now. That it would probably never be truly safe.

All someone with enough determination had to do was strike fast and hard enough , and they could rip the heart out of any Alliance.

What was the point in supporting them? How could they have been so incompetent as to let the Empire build up its forces like that? Come out of nowhere, and destroy everything?

Sera didn't understand how they could be so corrupt that they had no sense of self preservation.

And that was when the ambition hit.

Maybe she should be the Chancellor.

With some real, genuine power, she might be able to reverse their fortunes.

And burn every world that had a hand in the Galactic Empire being able to take the Core.

Sara's face went impassive as she passed by the ships of Alicio Organa , spotting the man himself talking with Eloise Dinn .

It was his job. His watch. His Chancellor-ship.

He had been found utterly lacking.

Her efforts to gain his trust now seemed to be completely and totally for nothing. She paid him no mind as she passed by, already calculating how best to gain his position, smelling blood in the water...

She was on her way to compensate Corellia's leaders personally...

 

[Alicio Organa]

CORELLIA
THE AFTERMATH
- Eloise Dinn -
​

He expected Eloise's anger. It was one constant between them, in all their interactions. Fueled by this or that, usually a stark difference in opinion. This was one of those times, and he certainly didn't blame her for it. In fact, he'd call it justified.

But it didn't rattle him. Not much did that. Not after Coruscant.

"A long time ago, I made a promise to Amani. Even before we had the twins." His hand found his datapad, discarded by the wayside, but he didn't turn it on. "My father was a distant one. He prioritized work over us children. For the sake of us, to pull us from a difficult situation... but still over us. I promised her I wouldn't do that. I promised that my top priority would be our family. Anyone can be a politician. But we are the only parents to our children."

"...I'm not with my family. I'm on a distant world, while Auggie and Lia are alone on a herdship. I'm prioritizing my position of power over them. Yes, billions, trillions of people, but I'm breaking my promise to the love of my life. Work over family."

"I'm so tired of watching people give up. I can't do anything about it. I can't stop them from walking away. I hate it."

His mouth thinned for a moment, before softening. Is that what she took from it all? That they were giving up?

"Amani gave up her seat because she's done what she can with it. She's still going to help the galaxy, just not from a fancy chair." At least, that was the impression he got when she told him.

"As for me... well, I did think about walking away. But... I'm still here. And I'll be here, until I've spent all I can." Alicio's grey eyes scanned the Jedi, thoughtful. He'd almost talked about his personal struggles, before he decided his wife's padawan would interpret it as pity-fishing. "I'll fight until I hurt us more than them."

"I take it you're not leaving, either?"

 

[Alexandra Feanor]

Alexandra would not be far from the conversation that Alicio Organa and Eloise Dinn were having, but she was no where near them either. She had been set up some distance from where the Alderaanian ships had come down, helping to organize the supplies that Lander Stalwart had brought to the world. She had hoped to work closely with the man, having such a wonderful conversation before but she lacked the ability to hold a long term one. It was something she deeply regretted that she could not maintain for now.

But that was not important. Even as she would give the Senator a smile, Alexandra would help some others along with a few bits of bread and some rations as well. She had even snuck in a few sweet treats for them with a smile to let them know to not tell their parents. This was also one of the few times she did not wear her robes, and because of that, her tail that came with the new body was exposed.

The fox like tail bright red as the rest of her hair being used to keep any other children who ran by calm and entertained considering the odd feature. After all, the woman herself who had been in the body of an Echani or Eldorai for so long found her form still a bit weird at times.

That all said, she had also requested any one injured or sick to be sent her way. The Senator to be welcoming them and utilizing the AI she had created Eve. She stood there beside Alexandra, recording any information that was explained into a file that could be sent to a nearby medical center, information that needed to be recorded incase the individual needed to be seen again in the future. Alexandra herself though did not bother with medicines, atleast, not for those with far more desperate injuries and sicknesses.

Instead the woman weaved her left hand through the force, placing it on the back of an older woman who's breathing was slow and labored. She sat there with the woman for a few long moments before smiling and breathing out. A rush of energy passing from Alexandra into the woman, easing her issues before Alexandra looked over to Eve and smiled.

"Make sure to mark down some internal damage to this woman's lungs. If she requires aid in the future have the clinic reach out to my office." She would state to Eve, the Ai sighing before making the note and nodding.

Alexandra would send her away after that, leaning back and smiling.

"Oh, and let Lander's aides know that some more food could be brought over to this portion of the refugee camps. They seem to have missed the last distribution run." She would tell Eve before smiling to the next person. The message being passed on via device to Lander Stalwart 's own aide.

 

[Eloise Dinn]

It wasn't like Eloise carried a torch for the GA. On the contrary, she had never missed an opportunity to complain about its leadership, whether they did too much or too little. At the end of the day her opinion didn’t matter; factions were a dime a dozen and loyalty was cheap. She could join any one of them and all that would change was whose banner flew over her medic tent or whether she had to do extra paperwork just to enter their space.

It wasn't the lack of loyalty that bothered her, either. If Amani had turned traitor, she wouldn't have been half as upset by it. No, she hated that it seemed to be an apathetic sort of abandonment. As if she and the Nobles and all the rest who had left the NJO had just stopped caring. As hardened as she had become, Eloise couldn't stand the indifference of others - especially where she had once felt passion, enthusiasm, life.

But she heard Alicio's explanations. She even listened, for once. Choosing between saving the galaxy and taking care of her family was not a decision she'd had to make. At least, not in the way Alicio described. She had no spouse, no children... but she did have siblings. Had she abandoned them, leaving them to their own devices on Zaathru? She was just a kid herself when she left home. But now she was eighteen. She couldn't hide behind that excuse anymore, couldn't deny her responsibility to them for much longer.

"Amani gave up her seat because she's done what she can with it. She's still going to help the galaxy, just not from a fancy chair. As for me... well, I did think about walking away. But... I'm still here. And I'll be here, until I've spent all I can. I'll fight until I hurt us more than them."

"At least we can agree on that," she muttered, blinking away the tears before they could fall. Maybe a bit embarrassed that she had nearly cried over nothing. Sometimes she was too damned sensitive for her own good. "I get it. You don't have to believe me, but I do. I just don't agree." But that was a conversation perhaps best saved for Amani herself, not her tired-ass politician husband.

"I take it you're not leaving, either?"

"Hell no." Eloise crossed her arms over her chest. "People are dying. As long as there's a war going on, I'll be around." She gestured with her chin. "You here to do relief work? Or just stand around for the cameras?" Might boost morale, at least, seeing the Chancellor on the ground and among the people.

Alicio Organa​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Alicio... smiled. She didn't agree. But she listened.

He did believe her.

"You here to do relief work? Or just stand around for the cameras?"

Alicio's smile faltered, falling into a neutral, weathered expression. "Well, currently, I'm sitting around for the cameras. But they haven't seemed to find the camp yet." His smile clawed back onto his face, weak, but mischievous. "Shame. All this PR work, and for what?"

He stood, spurred on by Eloise's words. "Best get back to it. If you're not busy, there's plenty to do around here. People need healing, and not everyone can stitch a wound with a touch."

"Care to join me?"

- Eloise Dinn -

 

[Eloise Dinn]

"Well, currently, I'm sitting around for the cameras. But they haven't seemed to find the camp yet. Shame. All this PR work, and for what?"

"I don't really see the point of sitting for a camera," Eloise grumbled. "The best pictures are candid action shots."

"Best get back to it. If you're not busy, there's plenty to do around here. People need healing, and not everyone can stitch a wound with a touch."

"That's what I was doing," she replied. "But sure."

Off they went toward the medic tents. Just before they entered, Eloise stopped and turned to the Chancellor. "Alicio, I..." she began, then faltered. "I don't remember what exactly I said to you at our first meeting, but I know that I acted like an obnoxious little shit. Sure, I was going through some shit that it seemed like no one else had ever gone through before, and I wasn't exactly handling it well, but that's no excuse for being a douchebag to someone who didn't deserve it. So, I guess I just want to say... I'm sorry."

Alicio Organa​