Srina smiled, briefly, at Darth Metus. It was demure and indulgent, however, every gentle part of her personality crumbled and faded away once they descended into the crowd of arrivals. The ethereal grace and emotional deadness that she surrounded herself with slid into place effortlessly, as if there had never been, and could never be, anything but a cold marble exterior. She could feel the Sith Lord calm, slowly but surely, and felt reassured that he was willing to see her point of view. From what she’d gathered, not every Master thought their apprentice had thoughts worth hearing, let alone taking to heart.
The white-haired woman inclined her head respectfully toward the lovely Grandmaster of the Silver Jedi, [member="Valae Kitra"], and for the briefest moment, her wintry expression melted when silver eyes happened upon her Padawan. [member="Stephanie Swail"] was always a breath of fresh of fresh air. Sweet and light—with a personality that Srina likened to some sort of lemon meringue. Out of most Jedi, with one or two exceptions, the small Echani liked her best. She was honest.
There wasn’t a whole lot of extra time for specific introductions and idle chatter. If only it was a superfluous occasion like the balls that the SJO had invited them to she might not have felt the need to stay on her guard. She didn’t worry like her Master had, nothing so severe, but she was well aware of the predicament they’d placed themselves in. A dark-haired man she didn’t immediately recognize entered the meeting hall as they began to filter in and made the general obligatory greeting. The polite smile of the Supreme Commander did little for the petite apprentice. Silver eyes flickered, analyzing the way Aryn Teth walked, moved, and spoke.
Information was what she currently required. Srina knew little, about this man, about this Commander they were attempting to broker peace with. Factoids and dossiers could only provide so much. It wasn’t the same as actually forming an opinion based on first-hand knowledge. She trusted her eyes and instincts over any sort of field report—and to that end would withhold her judgment on any in the room until she had accumulated enough data to do so.
The man known as Marshal Bantam introduced himself, seeming eager to begin, and she couldn’t help but agree. This was the part of a negotiation that she hated. The time spent awkwardly leering at one another, fumbling with words, wondering what would offend who and who would offend who first. What she didn’t agree with was his feet on the table, though none would be the wiser, as Darth Metus decided to copy the momentary act of chivalry. Rather than balk at the gesture Srina slid into the chair that was pulled out for her without hesitation, delicate, as only falling snow could be. “Thank you, my Master.”
Then…A voice began droning on in her head. Her jaw twitched imperceptibly. First, it had happened during their visit to the Sovereignty, and now here. When she saw the reason for it, she was struck with a bit of curiosity, but buried it deeply. Never had she seen a Celegian.
Now, it certainly felt like she’d witnessed everything.
For the time being, she was content to let Darth Metus do the speaking for the both of them. What more could she, a mere apprentice to someone so renowned, say in greeting to all of these Commanders, Marshals, and Chiefs of State. Srina was far from out of her depth—but she didn’t intend to waste breath. Not yet. She would speak when it became necessary. When she heard her name from Darth Metus she graciously inclined her head to the whole of the room, gray eyes quiet, and eerily perceptive.
Her Master went on to state their intentions and she surveyed the room for initial responses. The man who stood along the wall, whose name she didn’t know, seemed very tense. It was expected, really. However, she couldn’t tell who in the room unsettled him more. Darth Metus or Caita Xan.
The Grandmaster chose to speak next and Srina couldn’t help but feel comforted by her familiar optimism. It was no small wonder that Padawan Swail was so amicable when Valae Kitra was cut from the similar cloth. The ever-practical woman wished that she could be so carefree. The Grandmaster was already looking forward to working with everyone, whereas Srina was more concerned with the logistics of if they could.
A member of the ORC arrived a little later than his counterpart, covered in a light layer of frost, and the slender woman's eyes followed [member="Jorus Merrill"] as he strode in rather late to the assembly. He ran through those he knew and those he didn't. Srina accepted his opinion for what it was. A cross between cowardice and pragmatism. Strength combined with an appropriate dose of fear. It was foolish to poke a creature so volatile as the First Order without adequate support. Yet, how long would it be, before it woke from hibernation without provocation all on its own? But, that was a different discussion entirely. For now, they needed solidify an alliance. That had to come first, before all else. Darth Metus had already made his position as had the Grandmaster of the Silver Jedi. The next step would need to be taken by the leader of the Galactic Alliance or perhaps the representatives from the New Jedi Order.
There were certain terms that would need to be met to ensure the safety of all of their people during this union. A red lightsaber would no longer only belong to the enemy. The Confederacy was neutral and therefore had members from all walks of life. If they were going to band together, the GA would need to accept a little darkness, just as the CIS accepted the light.
“What say you, Supreme Commander?”, the soft-spoken woman breathed, though her bell-like words would be heard easily, the acoustics of the meeting hall carrying all that it needed to. “You were correct, before. We have traveled a long way. We have also shown no small amount of goodwill by arriving without any kind of force or any sort of an exit strategy. We are here before you, seated in the halls of your capital, because my Master believes that this unification is worth any price.”
Including, walking into an entire nation of people, that would sooner see him burn versus accept his assistance. Everyone knew that the Imperial problem required a final solution. It transcended all apprehensions between light and dark, especially, when they had the same goal of protecting those they had sworn to defend. The Confederacy was built on the notion of keeping its people protected and free. This summit was the path to making that happen, to ensure prosperity, and to end Imperial oppression.
“There is little more that we can say, or do, to express our intentions. The threat of war isn’t looming on some distant horizon. Remember Dagobah and every other unwarranted act of aggression. War is here. Together…We can survive it.”
Survive it, outlast it, rise above it…In very simple terms, together, they would win. Alone...That outlook seemed much less promising.
[member="Oros"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Aryn Teth"] | [member="Bryce Bantam"] | [member="Valae Kitra"] | [member="Stephanie Swail"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Darth Metus"]
