Private Heaven Is No Feeling

[Mykel Dawson]

The noon sun glared harshly off the sleek, silvery skin of the Jedi Courier, dazzling almost as bright as the star above. Below, a knight drew down his visor to shield his eyes, but his gaze never left the descending craft. Day by day starships were becoming more ubiquitous on Ukatis, even beyond its urban centers, but still his awe for them never dulled, particularly at the sight of such a graceful vessel. When better days came, he wished to travel the stars aboard one just like it.

The ship settled onto the meadow floor with a soft bounce upon its struts. A hiss followed as a ramp lowered from its side, and out of it emerged a tall, cloaked figure leading a speeder bike at his side. Where the courier gleamed with its mirror finish, his black garb seemed to swallow the light.

"You must be Ser Clayne," the newcomer called out as he closed the distance.

"Aye," the knight answered in accented Basic. "And you Ser Dawson?"

"Ah, I wish," the man replied with a low chuckle, pulling back his hood to reveal a youthful, smiling face. "Though I am a Jedi Knight, Mykel will do just fine."

"Very good," Clayne approved with a nod. "Whenever you're ready, Mykel."

The Jedi gave a small wave toward his ship before swinging onto his speeder. With a hum, the courier lifted off from the clearing, its crew and cargo bound for another corner of Ukatis. For them this had been only a brief detour of convenience.

It climbed fast, blurring silver as it rapidly accelerated towards cruising speed. Clayne was thankful for his visor, hiding how he gawked at the departing starship.

"That never gets old," Mykel said, eyes following the gleam overhead. "The Starbreeze is especially lovely."

"Truely," Clayne agreed. "Perhaps you would be open to me touring your vessel sometime?"

"That could certainly be arranged." Mykel replied as eased his speeder bike alongside Clayne's warhorse, their paths aligning. Clayne tipped his helmet toward the Jedi before leading him toward the Von Ascania estate up the path.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora had watched the courier ship lift into the clouds, all sharp angles and iridescent sheen. It cut a stark contrast with it's antiquated surroundings without seeming obtrusive.

She noted the direction of its ascent toward the enclave. Good, she thought to herself. On schedule.

Then, in a manner that was almost meditative, she carried on with planting delicate bota seedlings in the family garden. The young plants were delicate and fragile – much like how she was after Arkania, a similarity that had come to her in a moment of frustration. Her hover chair sat several paces to the side, for she could move about unaided. Still, she tired far quicker than usual.

At some point during her work between tucking the little shoots into the dirt and reaching for a can of water, she was seized by a coughing fit. One lung and several cardiac vessels had yet to heal properly, leading to a bronchial spasm.

Cora collapsed forward onto her hands, wheezing for breath.

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

The pleasant visage of placid meadows and rolling hills of these lands were a welcome reprieve from the scenes that had become life as of late. Burning ruins of cities, and chaotic starlanes now choked with wreckage and corpses. While the main front of the war had shifted eastward, Mykel had lingered in the occupied regions of the Core for as long as he could, sheparding rolling retreats and full scale evacuations across entire systems, buying time for civilian convoys to escape before the next bloody advance of the cruel Imperials.

However, he found it impossible to immerse himself into the pastoral calm of his new surroundings, as he felt something gnawing at his chest while nearing the Von Ascania manor. It was a dull steady throb of alien origin, yet carried a familiarity that unsettled him.

As the bond from their melding on Tython persisted, Cora's pain reverberated through him. However, it was only faint echoes of the true malady - if the sensations were this substantial for him, then he could only imagine her agony.

What have they done to you?

"I'll have someone retrieve Lady Corazona for you," Clayne offered as they entered the main courtyard.

"She's in the garden," Mykel quickly replied before the knight could turn away. His tone was gentle, but certain. "I can seek her out on my own, if you don't mind?"

"Certainly not. Good day to you, Master Jedi."

Mykel offered a salute, then dismounted from his speeder bike, boots loudly clacking against the solid stone floor. He followed the pull of his senses toward Cora, passing under a tall vine wrapped archway that served as the entrance to the gardens. As expected from the Mistress of Flora, he found himself surrounded by towering but neat hedges interspersed with bright fragrant blooms.

In another time, he may have paused to gander at the artistry of the well manicured foliage all around him, to lose himself in the perfumes of the flowers. Currently, they only received a fleeting glance as he hurried through the maze of hedges, never quite breaking into a run, but his stride quick enough to cause his cloak to billow around him with each step.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

The wind shifted, rolling through the gaps between leaves and petals, then over Cora's hunched form. With it rode a balm - a sense of the familiar, but foreign among the rhythm of Ukatis.

Nonetheless, it was welcome.

When the coughing spasm abated, Cora leaned her back against the side paneling of her hover chair. Her chest rose and fell with labored breath, no longer struggling but still winded.

She'd experienced defeat before, but what had been done unto her on Arkania lingered. Cora's gaze drifted somewhere beyond the flowers, unfocused on a vague point in the middle distance as Makko's words replayed themselves in her head.

Your body didn't want to heal up I... The doctors looked confused.

Consulting Jedi healers hadn't helped, but they'd been able to piece together more of a confirmation for her suspicions; a sliver of the smoke demon that had tried to consume her still remained, lodged in the vessels of her heart. It wouldn't kill her, not yet, but her energy suffered, as did her body's ability to repair itself.

It was frustrating.

That particular train of thought was fortunately derailed as a figure appeared from between hedged walls, his dark garb standing out among the greenery. She'd sensed him before he was seen, but the sight stirred a fond smile to pale lips.

"Mykel," she rasped. Her breath lingered, and Cora elected to forego a proper greeting in favor of practicalities. "Have you…any water…?"

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

His heart sank as he rounded the final turn of the garden maze to find a haggard looking Cora posted against a hover chair. In stark contrast to her verdant surroundings, all color was drained from her skin, the luster faded from her eyes and hair. Never had he seen her look so diminished, even during their struggle against Kyrios and the Drengir Hive Mothers. Worse yet, he perceived a hateful shard of void piercing through her very being, carving out a persistent Force wound that was no doubt the cause of her current fragile state. In his mind's eye, she was like a flickering candle.

It was one thing to feel her suffering from afar, but witnessing it up close was truly crushing.

Still, she was alive. Thank Ashla.

Concern now painted his face as he approached her, a thousand greetings now clamored in his mind as he tried to string together the right words that were appropriate for such a grave encounter. Nothing was coming. Fortunately, it was Cora who broke the silence with a simple request of water.

"One moment," he murmured while taking a knee before her. "Let's get you comfortable first."

He slipped his arms under her knees and back, easily lifting her up in one smooth motion. Gingerly, he then set her down in her hover chair.

"My canteen's back in the courtyard with my gear," he admitted. "So we'll just improvise a bit."

He spread his hands. A broad crimson petal tore loose from a nearby bloom and flitted into a gloved palm. Right above the other, a tiny vortex of vapors quickly coalesced into a large marble of condensation.

"Here," he offered as he brought the petal to her lips, guiding the water down its meridian in a slow trickle of trembling beads.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

A small, dry noise sounded from the back of Cora's throat as she was lifted. The protest died as she settled into the chair.

She couldn't help but linger on the contrast. Not just between herself and Mykel - one tall and strong, the other crumpled and weak - but from the last time they'd met. Cora lacked a certain steadiness that she'd maintained on Tython, and Mykel had gained experience.

A faint flush bloomed over pale cheeks as Mykel brought the petal up for her to drink from. She hesitated for a few moments before thirst won out over propriety, and parted her lips. The droplets of water, having been pulled from the air, rolled a cool path over her parched tongue.

Cora leaned back and cleared her throat.

"Thank you, Mykel. I'm sorry to meet you under such…circumstances."

Here, she offered him a tired smile, genuine around its edges. "On good days I can move about unassisted, but I get winded easily." One hand combed blonde strands back from her face and she continued, "I'm sure you've heard about the battle on Arkania. I'm lucky to have survived."

There was a measure of tension with how her other hand held the armrest of her chair, however faint. Cora's pride, mangled as it was, still managed to persist. Being so fragile was embarrassing.

She tilted back her head, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. Had he always been so tall?

"You look well. How have you been? How is your family?"

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

Knowing her as a prim woman always keen on decorum and appearances, he didn't need the Force to see how it pained her to require his support, but that's what friends were for. The conjured water orb now drained, he placed his free hand over hers where it clutched the armrest, silently coaxing her to relax the metallic digits. All the while, he still held onto the scarlet petal between his other fingers, amused by how the fresh warmth blooming across her cheeks nearly matched its hue.

"Bah," he said with a handwave and a smirk. "I'll let it slide this time."

His smile faded into a softer expression. "I did hear about Arkania, and I'm sorry I wasn't there to fight with you. I was leading an evacuation convoy out of Pollilus then. All that matters to me right now is that you're safe and alive."

While lines of worry may still have haunted his face, adoration was bright and clear in his eyes. As she had stood up for him during his lowest point, his fervor for her would never wane and he would return that support in kind.

"Thank you," he said when she asked about him, letting out a small sigh of relief. "All things considered, I'm pretty well off. My family is safe, as well as my enclave. Just about anyone who wanted to leave with us made it out in time. For once, the planeshift worked in our favor. It's made a mess of the hyperlanes in our sector, making transit difficult for the Imperials until they rechart the area for themselves. That bought us all the time we needed."

"As for my home government, they swiftly surrendered to limit the wrath of the occupation. Hopefully they can endure until a counteroffensive can be mounted..."

While trying to maintain a positive attitude on the fate of Coruscul, frustration cracked through, eyes darkening.

"Rather, if one will be mounted. The current state of the federal government leaves me with little confidence, to be frank. The Chancellery and High Command have disintegrated, effectively leaving operational control to the Senate, and you know how craven and dysfunctional they can be. By even agreeing to entertain the Imperials on Fondor for concessions, the Senate provided them with more legitimacy any battlefield victory. My people bitterly regard their actions as a betrayal."

Every day that the Senate spent openly discussing parceling off territories to the Imperials or other would be invader was another day that the grumblings among Alliance member worlds grew louder. Soon he feared those grumblings would become loud cries.

A cry for succession.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Don't be sorry," she waved off Mykel's concern as he'd waved off her own apology. "It wasn't a fight that put me in this state, more like my own...miscalculation." Beneath his own, metal fingers flexed gently. They couldn't quite perceive heat in the same way that flesh could, but they felt gentle, comforting pressure. "We both had our roles to play, and I daresay that you performed your own with far greater success."

Cora wouldn't have wished the frozen wastes of Arkania on anyone. Civilians were fleeing the core en masse, and part of her wondered if the Alliance's might would've been better put to use sheltering their retreat. That was hindsight talking, of course. She couldn't have predicted their loss.

"I'm glad to hear that your family is safe," she began softly as both her voice and expression took on a somber edge. "And I'm sorry that Coruscul has been caught in the imperial snare. It sounds as though they're doing what they must to survive."

Mykel's frustration filtered to her like cracks running through the smooth face of a stone. Hairline and slight, but there all the same. "The Alliance has made some...questionable decisions as of late. On Arkania, one of their military commanders force drained a battlefield." Cora sighed as she shook her head slowly. "Several Jedi were caught in the crossfire. It seems that the disarray is not just within the senate, but I do hope that they can reorganize themselves before the Empire presses their advantage."

She had no doubt that they would be riding off of their successive victories in the core, aiming to cut the Alliance off from their eastern swath of territory. She did have creeping doubts about the Alliance's ability to defend their sphere of influence, so much so that Ukatis had been entertaining an offer from the High Republic.

Carefully, she turned her hand beneath his own and laced metal digits with natural ones. A gentle squeeze, and she gave him a tired smile. One that seemed to reach every corner of her face in it's fatigue and genuine nature. The crimson flush of her cheeks had faded to a soft pink.

"The path forward isn't always clear, but we still have friends in the galaxy. If the Alliance's power truly is waning, then we need to rely on those around us a little more." She paused here, a thoughtful look overtaking her delicate expression before chuckling dryly.

"Though, I suppose that is easier said than done."

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

He couldn't help but groan as Cora recounted the Alliance's latest battlefield blunder. For once, he wished such misfortunes would visit the enemy to stall their progress.

"Yet another consequence of the lack of command and control," he muttered, head drooping. The junior knight was no seasoned field marshal or naval captain, but it was even clear to him what the problem was. "Soon, I'll be heading to Fondor with my world's delegation for the upcoming election. Let's see if we can finally right the ship before it sinks."

Not too soon, though. For now, he lingered in the quiet of her company, taking comfort in the way her hands clasped his. The warmth of her touch carried easily through the leather of his glove, matched by the steady current of her prosthetic which the technopath found equally as pleasant.

"The path forward isn't always clear, but we still have friends in the galaxy. If the Alliance's power truly is waning, then we need to rely on those around us a little more." She paused here, a thoughtful look overtaking her delicate expression before chuckling dryly.

"Though, I suppose that is easier said than done."

He snapped from his lull as he registered the full weight of her words, raising his head to meet her eyes.

"Will King Albinac be sending a delegation to Fondor as well?"

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora felt the full weight of Mykel's question in his gaze. Her lips parted to answer, but she hesitated. He'd feel it in the gentle tension of her fingers, see it in the worried lines of her expression.

"No," she said softly. The sudden urge to look away struck, but she let it wash over her without moving. "No, he will not."

Being away from the front-lines meant more time to linger in Ukatian affairs. Again, Cora hesitated before speaking, weighing how much to tell Mykel.

"King Albinac and I have spoken with the King of Naboo, Aurelian Veruna." His victory in the election hadn't come until after their meeting, which was something of a relief. It had been a difficult conversation, but one that had borne fruit nonetheless. "With all of the uncertainties of the Alliance, and given what my people have endured, they need the best chance at protection."

Nwul's words, from so long ago, rang in her head even now: How can you call yourself a caretaker of your people if you can't even take care of yourself?

Cora bit at the inside of her cheek as she sought Mykel's gaze in earnest.

"Ukatis is...seriously considering the idea of leaving the Alliance and joining the Republic. If I cannot protect them by the blade, then I can try and do this for them."

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

"I see..."

He was smart enough to put together the pieces she laid out even before asking, but her confirmation of succession still hit like a gutshot.

With great reluctance, he withdrew his hand from her grasp and stood away.

The sun had shifted since he had first encountered her on the grass, so when he rose and turned toward the hedges, he cast her in shadow. His hands were now clasped behind his back, and he remained perfectly still for quite a while as he processed her words. The only motion came from the sway of his clothes and hair as they caught the mountain breeze, which now seemed especially chill against the skin.

Eventually he spoke again, but his voice barely carried above a whisper.

"So, will you abdicate from the Order like the rest?"

Unlike with her political decisions made through Fabian, there was no figurehead to provide cover for her now. This was her choice alone.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Mykel pulled away, turning his back to her. The motion threw her into his shadow, and the next breeze that shifted over them had a touch of autumn chill.

Cora let out a slow breath through her nose. Her fingers drummed against the armrest of the hoverchair. Decisions had consequences, and though she hadn't intended to hurt him - she had.

The majority of the NJO, including their leaders had departed the core following the fall of Coruscant. Trying to gather what remained afterwards had been hectic. Too hectic for the sting of abandonment to reach her properly. It cropped up in the rawest of moments, catching her off guard and in a stranglehold.

"Mykel, I…." Her voice trailed, throat dry around the shape of the apology and explanation she wanted to convey.

"In my state, I would be more of a burden than a Jedi."

She glanced down to her hand, the fading warmth of connection having left pins and needles in its wake.

"The council has been dissolved. I will not abdicate. I will do what I can to support the Order, but it might not be enough."

It was never enough to begin with.

The bitter thought drifted through her mind, and she watched it pass like a cloud. Then, she tilted her head back and lifted her eyes toward the sky.

"I'm sorry. I tried, after Coruscant, to salvage what I could on Ilum, but it wasn't enough. If anything, it taught me that I am no leader, and certainly not one that the Jedi need now."

Though sincere, her worlds felt faintly hollow in the face of Mykel's pain. His people were trapped under the imperial yoke, while she scrambled to keep her own safe.

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

Your Power​

Even still she failed to own up to her choices, veiling her retreat behind circumstance and humility. Usually, he found her elusiveness and honeyed words so charmingly coquettish, but right now it was just grating.

"The die has been cast," he replied cooly, resigned to the fact that there was no going back. It was up to him and the remaining Jedi of NJO to carry on. "The age of Pax Nobilis is truly buried."

He turned back to her, stone faced. Any shred of reverence had dissipated from the storm-grey eyes that bore down upon her like glaring spotlights.

"I won't admonish you or Master Valery for stepping back, but I need you to acknowledge at least one thing moving forward. As much as your withdrawal pains me personally, it's not just about my feelings. Like it or not, you and her are both walking shatterpoints. Your choices, even made for yourself, shifts the world around you. Be mindful of your influence and become a good steward, Jedi or not."

His eyes shifted downward to her chest where the wound festered, his gaze softening.

"I don't want to spend the rest of my time with you arguing or causing undue stress. You've earned your rest."

Finally, he loosened up and took in his surroundings, noticing tools and unearthed plots nearby.

"Your handiwork?"

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Frail as she'd become, Cora did not wilt beneath the intensity of Mykel's gaze. That did not mean that she was unsurprised. The tempered steel in his stare bore down upon her like thunder - an expression she never thought she'd witness from the young Dawson.

I suppose he's growing.

For as long as he maintained eye contact, Cora offered an unwavering acceptance of his scrutiny. She met him head on, her own gaze steady and open.

His intensity faded, and Cora lifted a hand as he attempted to curtail the conversation. For a moment, she ignored the gardens.

"You are right," she conceded. "I need to be mindful of the impact of my decisions. I've put Ukatis above the Alliance because if this-" she gestured to the wound at her chest, obscured by the collar of her garment "-does me in, then I want to give my people the best chance that they have at survival."

Her hand lowered, fingers tapping against the armrest, the rapid beat a betrayal of her rising frustration.

Cora had spent much of her time in the Order surrounded by giants; now they were gone. Far from the core and dispersed among the stars. The notion that she wielded influence beyond the shadows of the palace corridors was something that would take her time to digest.

"Ukatis is withdrawing," she sighed, "I am not."

Cora tilted her head back against the rest of the chair, closed her eyes, and slowly exhaled through her nose. The smoke demon’s essence that lingered in her chest had begun to coil in a sort of anticipation; it ached, a physical manifestation of when she was becoming worked up.

"Perhaps I cannot do both," she murmured thoughtfully. "Perhaps I am being selfish."

Still reclined, her head now tilted towards the partially-worked plots.

"Some, but not all," she finally answered. "Gardening has always been my favored form of meditation. What can be closer to the Light than sowing life itself?"

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

As she was seeing new sides of him, so too was he with her, watching her begin to fume. Once, he would have winced at the mere thought of suffering her displeasure. Now he engaged in confrontation unflinching, standing by his convictions.

"Perhaps I cannot do both," she murmured thoughtfully. "Perhaps I am being selfish."

"You are being selfish," he affirmed, offering no balm for her guilt. "At least Valery made a clean break in pursuit of her 'visions'. This fence sitting you're doing is worse in some ways, dangling false hopes."

The throb in his chest intensified in tandem with the growing tension between them. The vile entity within her was reacting to her emotional turmoil, confirming his suspicion. Hence his desire to table the matter for lighter topics, if only as a distraction.

"Just pause," he said, coming closer to crouch at her side.

He held up a hand, conjuring vapors like before, but instead of condensing into liquid, they became a shimmering swirl of colors, now infused with Force Light.

"As the parasite manifests in the physical plane like a respiratory infection, perhaps I can bring you some temporary relief in kind. The Light is bound to a physical medium, so its effects should linger in you system for a time. Maybe you'll even be able to move around for a bit without being too winded."

Despite his mixed feelings for her at the moment, he couldn't stand to see her suffer.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Another exhale, controlled but audible. This one came with a low hum of consideration, and strangely, a tickle of pride.

She recalled that boy on Tython, eager to please. Now, he pushed through the discomfort of challenging her if it meant being honest.

Good, she thought. This is what he should do.

Cora had known from the start that her choice was not one that aligned with the Jedi path. Candor had never been her strength. Ukatian women were expected to blunt and curve their words around the conversation.

Valery left, whispered her frustrations. It wasn't the dark wound talking, but it did help her resentment rise to the surface. You stayed. You fought. You were crippled in service to the Order. And this is what you get for it?

Then, Mykel knelt next to her chair, a sphere of Light hovering just above gloved fingers. Again, he'd drawn moisture from around them - only this time, suffused with the Force.

"Like a painkiller," she murmured, which wasn't an exact comparison for that particular mechanism.

The wound began to tighten, stinging at the edges of marred skin simply from being in proximity to the Light.

Her frustrations began to hiss louder, but they'd also begun to distort. Threads of clarity started to snake through the gaps.

"Alright," she rasped. Pale fingers tugged the collar of her tunic down and gingerly worked the gauze covering injured flesh.

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

He brightened as she accepted his aid, hoping the helpful gesture would do much to defuse the tension. However, his composure then faltered as she opened her tunic and began to unravel her bandages.

Oh...that's not what I meant I...

"Aha, you don't have to remove those." He held the sphere of suspended vapors closer to her face. "I meant for you to breathe in the vapors. Unless... you prefer this vector?"

What bindings she already had loosened, he could see warped splotches of flesh borne of eldritch affliction. Following the initial rush of awkwardness, he was beset by the churn of guilt after calling her selfish.

"I'm sorry..." He started slowly, "I don't really think you're selfish as a person. You've done so much for me and the Order. If you told me that you were retiring or taking a sabbatical, then I could make peace with that. Really, I would prefer it.."

The real problem, as they were both well aware, was that she was taking Ukatis with her. The succession of Hapes and Ukatis in short order may prompt a stampede of other such splinterings and accelerate the demise of the Alliance in their ongoing war against the many faces of the Sith.

She is a wolf, and her pack comes before all...

A shudder ran through his spine as something stirred within the recesses of his mind. A faint but familiar presence that had once suffocated him on Tython, now just lingering around the edge of his consciousness like curls of smoke after a fire.

I'm not the threat here, Jedi.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Oh," she said softly.

Crimson heat would once again find a home on pale features as Cora quickly pulled her tunic closed. This time, the blush extended down her neck and disappeared beneath her collar.

Mykel's apology was a sufficient distraction, even if it initially made her brow furrow. She leaned back in her chair, the soft focus of her eyes resting on the sphere of light.

"I suppose that doesn't make me a very good Jedi, does it?" She observed aloud. Her voice, though low, didn't carry any overt tremors of guilt. "We're not supposed to play favorites. Especially if it means putting the well being of an individual world above that of the galaxy."

When she leaned forward into the Light, that was when the tendrils of guilt she thought she'd wrestled away reached back out to seize her. The secession talks had begun while Cora was still well, and she had hoped that the pastures truly would be greener on the other side.

Marcel von Ascania hadn't been a kind father. He arranged his children as if they were pawns, but he had impressed upon his daughter that it was a noble's responsibility to take care of those beneath them. Whether that be the denizens of a province, city, or the entire planet. After the Sith-backed rebellion carved a bloody swath through Axilla, she'd taken it upon herself to prevent power from falling into the greedy hands of yet another old man wrinkled by ambition.

They always ruined things.

Cora breathed, drawing the Light into her aching lungs and cooling the smoke demon's influence. Her next exhale came with more vigor, and she smiled. Color was beginning to return to her pallid complexion.

A ripple of agitation drifted to her in the Force, and she blinked.

"Mykel?"

Mykel Dawson

 

[Mykel Dawson]

The venom that courses through her little black heart, it spreads to you.

Venom? The parasite? Wait why was he even hearing Kyrios again? He had banished him to the Netherworld during their confrontation. He was supposed to have passed into the Force. Yet there he was. Or was he?

Nothing came again as he scoured his own mind for answers. Only his troubled thoughts echoed back.

He brought his focus forward to find a relieved Cora as the demon within her was momentarily suppressed, but now she also appeared flummoxed. Still perceptive as ever, unfortunately.

"I..." he stammered. "I just became flustered earlier...there was a slight miscommunication, but I didn't realize you felt so comfortable as to...anyway I hope it helps. This was a technique my mother developed to help my father deal with phantom pain from his lost limbs and lung. It was hard on him the first few years."

Grey eyes drifted towards the deep flush down her collarbone that now formed a perfect gradient with her wounds.

He seized on the awkwardness from before to mask his inner dysfunction. That wasn't hard to do, his latent feelings for her real. Quite real, and quite taboo.

"I'm no paragon myself."

Releasing the vapors, he peeled off his gloves and then reached for her hand, skin to skin.

"I certainly have my favorites..." His thumb brushed against the knuckles of her real hand. "Well, let's just try to make the best of this transition for our people. You could provide a much needed bridge between the High Republic and the Galactic Alliance. Also, there are refugees from Tython we need to resettle, again. Refugees from my world also require a temporary home, as they currently remain mooreless aboard the vessels of our defense fleet. I'm not afraid to admit that my government remains wary of setting down anywhere else in Alliance space at the moment with the apparent firesale happening at the Senate. Do you believe King Albinac or the High Republic could help with that? I'm aware they previously hosted refugees from the Alliance during the Core Wars."

Such a bright lad, quick on your feet. Use her guilt.

He was back.

Corazona von Ascania

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora swallowed, perhaps a bit thickly. "I suppose I've become…accustomed to being poked and prodded." Her fingertips sought the edge of the armrest as she cleared her throat. Though murmured, her voice was steadier, perhaps even gaining strength.

"…in a medical capacity," she added quickly.

Though it didn't burn as brightly, the mottled heat of her skin was slow to fade. Replaying the motion of her hands as she tugged her own collar down didn't help, but a distraction came in the contact of Mykel's hand on her own.

"It did help," she admitted. "Like a breath of fresh air."

Something else stirred in the air, which she ignored in favor of his question. Delicately manicured brows rose, but she said nothing to contradict him. Mykel's earlier frustrations were warranted. Her smile for him was soft. Soft, and knowing.

"You'd make an apt diplomat," she considered with a faint chuckle. "While Ukatis does not get to choose who it'll accept as refugees at the behest of the Republic, I will speak with the King. With any luck, perhaps the people of Coruscul will find mooring in our fields."

Fabian likely wouldn't refuse them, but perhaps she'd need to escalate to the Republic. Naboo's newly crowned king sought to hit the ground running, after all.

"Will you be staying for dinner?" she asked. "You're more than welcome to, of course, but perhaps I should warn you about my sisters."

Mykel Dawson