Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private In a Pickle

General of Signa-Ki RND
The sentence slid across the room like a blade laid flat on a table.


And there it was.


A small creature in her childhood hands. Soft. Temporary. A lesson about attachment delivered without raising a voice. About control. About the cost of weakness.


Her jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly.


"Yes," she replied evenly. "I do."


She would not grant the memory oxygen.

Linn stepped forward, slow and deliberate, stopping just within conversational distance. She studied Liin without hostility, without warmth. Pure assessment.

"Liin," she said at last, voice calm, controlled. "I trust you find the spelling difference sufficient."

A faint tilt of her head. Not quite a smile.

When Arken attempted, with visible strain, "Tell me you have been well, my daughter," Linn's eyes flicked back to him.

The prison fabric still clung to her frame. The faint scent of bacta had not fully faded.

"Well is a flexible term," she answered. "I was recently a guest of the Coruscant penal system. The hospitality was lacking."

She folded her hands behind her back, posture immaculate despite everything.
 

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