"I believe in the Primeval..."
The young Pantoran lay prostrate on the floor of his room. A length of chain held in his hands as he prayed. Bits of bone and gems laced along the length of chain formed a repetition for use in meditative prayer, forming one of the principle dogmas of the formalized worship of the ancient religion known as the Primeval.
"...the Host Lord, and the words of the Prophet. I wait for the Reclamation, when the stars shall give up their dead and all things will be re-made," the boy remarked, as the piece of bone slipped through his fingers. The slight pull of the chain brought a star sapphire as next in line.
"Hail Nogras, full of light. Blessed are you among Creation and..."
A knock at the door.
As a Primeval worshipper, and former Sith, the young Pantoran did not entertain many guests at the SIlver Temple. No matter what [member="Thurion Heavenshield"] had said about him, he was viewed with a certain sort of suspicion by many within the Order of the Silver Jedi. Which didn't bother him. He was used to being looked down upon.
Street rat.
Sith slave.
His love of the Primeval might well have been due to the fact that they were the first to treat him as though he were a human being, and not merely society's trash. But, no matter. Pausing his adoration, the boy reared himself back so that he was sitting up in a kneeling position on the floor as the shale-colored Zabrak poked his head through the entryway.
The Pantoran's room was fitting of a monk's chambers. Spartan, save for the rather elaborate collection of weapons. Not the least of which was a Yuuzhan Vong amphistaff coiled up on a dog bed in one corner. The triangular, viper-like head of the biot came up at the sight of the stranger, the tip of it's tail wagging in a way that was meant to be friendly.
Standing, the blue-skinned youngling stood to face the stranger as he spoke of being lost. It was easy to note that the young man was older than he, so the youth bowed his respects in deference to the Zabrak's age. Straightening up, the boy kept his eyes down in respect as he asked,
"Are you looking for some place in particular, Master..?"
The boy spoke quietly, though his voice was devoid of the accent typical of Pantorans. Instead, he talked like someone from Coruscant's undercity.
[member="Kaï Sargas"]