Yasha Cadera
Mom'alor
"I do now. Being Noble born explains a couple of things. . . I'm just a person from Naboo. Mom wanted me to be a politician, you know, live up to the ancient family name as if stuff that happened nine hundred years ago mattered. Isn't that what Nobility is? A group of people clinging to the actions of the past? Well, I don't know. It never clicked, you know? Dad being a Rhandite. Now it makes me wonder. After we're done on Lipsec, I might hoof it to the Nihil Retreat and . . . it's just. . . it's dumb. The Sorcerers of Rhand would eat me alive. Besides, what parent throws their kid out at twelve?" My voice trails off, I glance over at [member="Lucien Cordel"] and [member="Mikhail Shorn"] and fight off a shudder. My mental voice strokes in coincidence with Mikhail's open admonition. He hated his childhood? I flatten the folds of my blue and gold dress - the very same dress I wore that first night I went to Mikhail and he nearly tore my neck from my body. It's still an amazing dress and one with secrets: The fabric is vong shaped. Glistaweb. The flowing cascades of fabric are little less than body armour.
I wish I had a shawl, as the interior atmosphere of the ship leaves me comfortable, yet slightly chill. My eyes continue to glance outward at the stars, as I speak to Mikhail's mind. 'I'm sorry you hated it, Mikha. I wish I could drift back in time and heal those wounds when they were fresh. So far I can only see the present and fragments of the future. It's not fair, being left hurt, alone and angry in the cold. I can't help you then, but I can be here with you now.'
Maybe this is too much for me. Maybe Coryth was right and I needed to go off with her, spend my life meditating in some boat on Corellia's wide lakes. Maybe I ought to have chased across the skies and made my home in the Sanctum under the guidance of my Master [member="Ilias Nytrau"].
"Hmm? Yeah, Bucket with no head. . . he'd look more like a real bucket then." It barely registers, Mikhail joking about Bucket and Lucien defending my droid. I barely hear Bucket's squalk and it's a bit of a surprise when he backpedals on his foot plates with his hands in the air. "Hey! How'm I gonna defend our fair lady without my head!? I only got one eye, you know! Listen to Lord Cordel, for he is wise and has many butlers to learn from and whiskey and booze to grab for the Suma."
I look over and Lucien's got his feet up, a glass in hand. I lick my lips, all seems right with the denizens of the ship. It won't be long before Lipsec is in view. Lucien's promise that I would get to look the ringleaders in the eye is coming real and as I settle my mind on the justice with which I will dole out, I feel that sandy line drifting toward my toes. I should have known when I left Naboo that there was no going back.
I wish I had a shawl, as the interior atmosphere of the ship leaves me comfortable, yet slightly chill. My eyes continue to glance outward at the stars, as I speak to Mikhail's mind. 'I'm sorry you hated it, Mikha. I wish I could drift back in time and heal those wounds when they were fresh. So far I can only see the present and fragments of the future. It's not fair, being left hurt, alone and angry in the cold. I can't help you then, but I can be here with you now.'
Maybe this is too much for me. Maybe Coryth was right and I needed to go off with her, spend my life meditating in some boat on Corellia's wide lakes. Maybe I ought to have chased across the skies and made my home in the Sanctum under the guidance of my Master [member="Ilias Nytrau"].
"Hmm? Yeah, Bucket with no head. . . he'd look more like a real bucket then." It barely registers, Mikhail joking about Bucket and Lucien defending my droid. I barely hear Bucket's squalk and it's a bit of a surprise when he backpedals on his foot plates with his hands in the air. "Hey! How'm I gonna defend our fair lady without my head!? I only got one eye, you know! Listen to Lord Cordel, for he is wise and has many butlers to learn from and whiskey and booze to grab for the Suma."
I look over and Lucien's got his feet up, a glass in hand. I lick my lips, all seems right with the denizens of the ship. It won't be long before Lipsec is in view. Lucien's promise that I would get to look the ringleaders in the eye is coming real and as I settle my mind on the justice with which I will dole out, I feel that sandy line drifting toward my toes. I should have known when I left Naboo that there was no going back.