Aleidis Zrgaat
Young soul from an older generation.
After her summary to the Senate and subsequent retirement from politics, Aleidis had been a busy, busy girl. She'd slept for a bit while her old mentor Boolon's herdship had taken her where she needed to be - which was on the far side of Mando space, far away from Coruscant. See, while she'd wanted to toss the Darkstaff into a Black Hole to dispose of it, she didn't trust that there weren't moles in the senate with enough power to somehow retrieve it.
So she'd done the next best thing. She'd lied, and then loaded the staff onto her shuttle, and sent the shuttle into the heart of a supernova. If the supernova couldn't incinerate the Darkstaff, it'd sure as heck incinerate anything that tried to get at it for the next couple thousand years. And so, the Galaxy was a safer place. It wasn't as though anyone could have stopped her, considering she'd been well on her way to finishing the plan when she'd sent that message.
Once the Darkstaff was dealt with, Aleidis Ijet allowed herself to rest.
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Months later, the teenager reached for her morning cup of tea and found nothing. With a wince, she realized that she'd reached with the wrong hand. Again. Becoming a leftie overnight wasn't easy, when you'd spent your entire life reaching with the right. She sat quietly at a hewn wooden table in a hut with three rooms - two bedrooms and a living room-kitchen-den-dining room conglomerate that was truthfully about as big as the living room of her home as Chancellor had been. But that's how life was, on Datar - simple, primitive.
Out the window, wind rushed through a sea of dark green. On any other planet, that'd be grass outside her front step. But the village Aleidis had grown up with was situated on the canopy, with small pathways and rope-bridges connecting the homes of the perhaps twenty people who lived there. Aleidis had returned as soon as she was able to walk, at Boolon's suggestion. After losing her arm and getting blasted by lightning, she needed rest. And considering that nearly every other planet in the Galaxy had gravity which strained her body, she'd headed home to Datar. Adjusting to live without electricity had been a bit of a shock, but - hey. She'd grown up here. It wasn't TOO hard.
And Aleidis was a skilled enough physician and healer to see to her own self by that point in her recovery.
Living under her father's roof again had been... well, recuperative. Soothing, in a way. Ghostlings understood that there were more lives on more planets than their own, but very few ever left. To Jobar Ijet, his daughter was a Jedi and little more - and apparently home to stay, which he was markedly happy about. Very few souls in the Galaxy could claim to have treated Aleidis as a girl her own age for some time, so having her father remind her to clean her room every couple of days? Or try and gently nudge her towards the Chief's son? Was kind of refreshing in a way.
Feeling home swaying in the wind, Aleidis picked her tea up in the wrong hand and sipped, moving to the window to look out over the perpetually twilight forest of her people - and then up at the stars that she'd once been leader of. Perhaps, one day they might forgive her. Or understand her. But for now, she was recovering.
So she'd done the next best thing. She'd lied, and then loaded the staff onto her shuttle, and sent the shuttle into the heart of a supernova. If the supernova couldn't incinerate the Darkstaff, it'd sure as heck incinerate anything that tried to get at it for the next couple thousand years. And so, the Galaxy was a safer place. It wasn't as though anyone could have stopped her, considering she'd been well on her way to finishing the plan when she'd sent that message.
Once the Darkstaff was dealt with, Aleidis Ijet allowed herself to rest.
----------------
Months later, the teenager reached for her morning cup of tea and found nothing. With a wince, she realized that she'd reached with the wrong hand. Again. Becoming a leftie overnight wasn't easy, when you'd spent your entire life reaching with the right. She sat quietly at a hewn wooden table in a hut with three rooms - two bedrooms and a living room-kitchen-den-dining room conglomerate that was truthfully about as big as the living room of her home as Chancellor had been. But that's how life was, on Datar - simple, primitive.
Out the window, wind rushed through a sea of dark green. On any other planet, that'd be grass outside her front step. But the village Aleidis had grown up with was situated on the canopy, with small pathways and rope-bridges connecting the homes of the perhaps twenty people who lived there. Aleidis had returned as soon as she was able to walk, at Boolon's suggestion. After losing her arm and getting blasted by lightning, she needed rest. And considering that nearly every other planet in the Galaxy had gravity which strained her body, she'd headed home to Datar. Adjusting to live without electricity had been a bit of a shock, but - hey. She'd grown up here. It wasn't TOO hard.
And Aleidis was a skilled enough physician and healer to see to her own self by that point in her recovery.
Living under her father's roof again had been... well, recuperative. Soothing, in a way. Ghostlings understood that there were more lives on more planets than their own, but very few ever left. To Jobar Ijet, his daughter was a Jedi and little more - and apparently home to stay, which he was markedly happy about. Very few souls in the Galaxy could claim to have treated Aleidis as a girl her own age for some time, so having her father remind her to clean her room every couple of days? Or try and gently nudge her towards the Chief's son? Was kind of refreshing in a way.
Feeling home swaying in the wind, Aleidis picked her tea up in the wrong hand and sipped, moving to the window to look out over the perpetually twilight forest of her people - and then up at the stars that she'd once been leader of. Perhaps, one day they might forgive her. Or understand her. But for now, she was recovering.