Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Faction Project Dark Heart || NIO

Halketh

Libertas quae sera tamen
There was always something about these sorts of environments in which Halketh found the most opportunity.

Opportunity was a funny little word, wasn't it? Especially for one of his caliber.

And yet, here he floated all the same, drifting and wandering along in idle absorption of his surroundings. The utterance which had wandered his way spoke the truth, and in that truth, The Vulture had flown to scavenge. Wounded troopers in various states and statuses were ushered around the bay and through the narrowed corridors, muddying the fog of his vision. He found the shifts in the air and the bleeding essence distorting the flow of energies around to be repugnant, though he refused to express it beyond some mild twitch of his hidden lips. Heavy, cloaked layers were drawn more closely to his frame, and his mask adjusted then. Some vague dignity cracked his spine, straightening up his posture with the passing into the hangar. The winding concealment wrapped around his frame to smother what would have otherwise been so dreadfully obvious adjusted, warping momentarily in such a way the miraluka found himself blinded by the flash. An irritated scoff huffed from scarred lips.

A second followed as he felt some idle tug at his gut, a gnawing, nagging feeling which beseeched him to delve further into the murmurings he had heard. That was, of course why Kezec had come. Such mysteries were among the few things he found exciting after watching the same situations unfold for decades. It was always the same, wasn't it? But perhaps... perhaps this concept would be something new. He could hope. His service as advisor and scholar both gave him ample reason to be here, didn't they? Why did he feel himself so on edge? Was this such a strange thing to hope for?

Irritated at the realization of as much, the miraluka pushed a lowly, rattling growl from his throat and turned, carrying himself back down to the bay.

Even, easy strides carried him by an array of doors; rooms he found occupied by droids and personnel. How was he to figure what the murmurings were about if he could not have a moment of privacy with one of the wounded? There. The sorcerer's head twisted abruptly to his left and he halted, peering towards the room with the cracked door. Energy bled from within, though the hum of artificial life was absent. Mostly. The Vulture stepped forward and extended a hand, pushing the door open to better expose the interior of the room.

A wounded trooper, Redmond Geller Redmond Geller , how unsurprising. Though this one was not being fussed over by a dozen staff or hacked open by droids.

Progress.


The mystic cleared his throat and offered something of a nod towards the man. What empathy the smell of bacta and blood always stirred ignited within the miraluka's gut then, and he tilted his shrouded face, listening how he could. There was not much for him to see here, beyond the vague, broad silhouettes. "Pardon my interruption to your solitude-" Halketh started, slowly tucking each gloved hand into the opposite sleeve of his outer robe, "-Have you been visited by the doctor yet?"
 
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I could hear a human talking on the otherside of the wall I was leaning against.

"Pardon my interruption to your solitude have you been visited by the doctor yet?"

"So I'm next to the medical ward huh? Stupid biologicals. Any biological that was injured beyond use should have their organs recycled and put to better use."

Dissapointing.
 

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