even if it hurts
With an apologetic grimace, Cordé gestured vaguely to half of her face, feeling a pinch of guilt behind her ribs as she did so. It seemed to work, however. She received an indication of where she could find the person she was looking for.
“Down that way,” The mirialan gestured, and Cordé followed the length of their finger to the vague distance of the hallway. She parted ways with thanks and walked purposefully in the direction she’d been pointed. The less time she could spend in these hallways, or this temple in general, the better.
It was a different route than she’d taken to get to the archives during the temple’s grand opening. This time, she wandered through a part of the temple that was half outdoors, with tall stretching trees and bright-coloured flowers that sprawled out into pockets of sand. Little sparring areas. At the end was a tranquil setting of a soft-running fountain.
The directions for the mirialan were true, and Cordé immediately recognized the silhouette of the Jedi who’d healed her twice. She only knew his name because she’d overheard it from his Padawan friend. The alarm on his face when she’d used it and waved goodbye— see you later, Sion — had been notable even in the dimness of the caves.
“Hey,” She greeted. “Sion, right?” He didn’t look like he was expecting anyone. ”I wanted to take the serendipity out of running into one another. And you're not that hard to find.”
With a look up to the ceiling carved with historic stances and duelists she didn’t recognize, she suppressed a shudder.
“Still meeting in weird places though. Can I sit?”
There’d been something on her chest since Ilum, and now that they were shipped back, she wanted it resolved. The less nuisance in her mind, the clearer her focus could be. The better at her job she could be. The more impact she could have on the war against the Sith. And that’s all that mattered.
"You got your master's friend back safely? All those Jedi on that speeder looked pretty beat up."
