Keepin Corellia Weird
Home... He had been back here for a minute, but had avoid the Temple. Working the streets. Getting a finger for the pulse of his people. The Confederation and the Order did a good job of putting a polish on things. But life in Coronet and other places went on much the same as others. Not long on the surface and Julius had reconnected with many of his favorite sorts - smugglers, mercenaries and the old freedom fighting crowd. Messages were even sent to his old commando squad, and they should be filtering into reserved rooms at the Green Devil soon. But in the mean time, he had another visit of another sort to make. So he had come home. To the floating mountains of the very Temple he had helped build. With his particular set of skills, it had been simple enough to walk in unnoticed. In casual Jedi robes with the hood up he appeared as any other middle-aged master of the Order. But his path, though wandering, had a set goal in mind from the outset. The Council Chambers. He needed to find out more about the Order he had helped resurrect. It had been years... The Government had surely changed... How had it?
Slipping into the Council chambers, he took a chair and drug it to the side of the room where a good view of the clouds could be had. Since his arrival, he had been holding his aura and presence in tight check. Vanish from a group of people who looked at you as half hero and three quarters nuisance for just shy of a decade, and they would take notice if you suddenly returned. His robes were shed, and he sighed in relief as he shrugged his longcoat on and shook out the wrinkles from being folded into a backpack.
Now he stood as he truly was. A bryar pistol on a thigh holster. A pair of lightabers on his left hip, with a third in a scroll-case sheath in the small of his back. Simple white linen shirt with brown trousers and suspenders, a tight fitting pair of spacers trousers adorned with First-Class Bloodstripes, and a pair of battered black boots for the trousers to tuck into. His right arm was a strange white material that gleamed like polished metal, but would feel as light as plastic. Covering his real and cybernetic limb, and now-a-days even parts of his neck and fingers, were the metallic swirls and whorls of design gifted to him by the Aing-Tii.
Smiling, he took a sip of whiskey from a flask as he dropped his shroud and let his presence anchor in the council chambers. As he did, an old datapad keyed to various systems would send out broadwave messages. Before, it might have been a joke or quip. But, despite how things stayed the same... They had also changed. This would have reached almost everyone but the Younglings and padawans, and sent as priority to anyone registered to the Order as a Master or Council member. Just two words with location tag on the transmission, so they knew where the sender was. Simple. Short, sweet.
"I've returned."
Turning the chair to take advantage of the view, he took another pull from the flask and sighed. Let his senses wander along the flows of the place. Waiting to see who would turn up and what would come of it all.
