Slowly Turning the Page (Open to GA, Allies, and Naboo Peeps)

[Marcello Matteo]

Theed, Naboo
One Week Following the Attack on Coruscant

"Lord Matteo..."

The melodic voice of Cerysi Xerian carried across the expansive chamber which Marcello occupied in solitude. His mind was a swirling mixture of various thoughts and concerns. Shortly after his private meeting with the Princess of Theed and members of the Royal Advisory Council, Marcello had departed Naboo. He had departed to fulfill a promise, a solemn oath to all those that lost their lives in the initial Sith attack on Coruscant. His decision hadn't exactly been met with enthusiasm from most of the nobility. The tragic reality of Naboo's isolationist tendencies even now was a point of concern for the, now former, Jedi Master.

At the conclusion of the operation, he had made his intention clear...there would be no return to the New Jedi Order for him. He would forever be there to support the people, of course, but his primary concern had to be that of Naboo for the foreseeable future. His decision had turned out to be...somewhat fortuitous as just three days ago, he had been informed of the results of the emergency election. Departing from recent trends, a teenager had not been elected to the monarchy of Naboo. Nor had it been someone with a career in any amount of politics. In the ever-changing galaxy, the people of Naboo had chosen to take the first step in adapting to the times...and selected a former fighter pilot-turned Jedi to be the next monarch of Naboo.

Slowly, Marcello turned his glacier-blue gaze to face Cerysi, offering the woman a polite bow. "You may as well not get used to that..." His last name was merely one of many things that would inevitably have to change in his life.

The Princess of Theed offered a thin smile that looked...awkward underneath the makeup on her face designed to give her the appearance of mourning. "You may as well not get used to that, Lord Matteo." Cerysi made a small motion towards the bow he had extended her. "You are nervous."

Marcello rolled his eyes as he turned his gaze back to the rolling hills of Naboo just beyond the Royal Palace, where he would spend the night in one of the guest quarters to aid in facilitating this evening's ceremony and tomorrow's as well. "You are perceptive, Your Highness. Far beyond your years should even allow..."

Cerysi Xerian stepped further into the room, motioning for her assistant to remain outside. Once the door had closed behind her, she clasped her hands in front of her and smiled at the back of Marcello Matteo. "You will be fine."

Marcello did not turn around. "I don't do this...lording over others, guiding entire societies."

"No? Some would say that a Jedi has more experience guiding a multitude of societies than even the most seasoned of politicians."

Marcello immediately snapped back. "Yeah politicians would say that."

Cerysi could not stifle the brief chuckle that escaped her lips. "How ready do you think the rest of us were when we were voted into roles of responsibility? You...at least you have lived a full life, traveled the galaxy, interacted with countless species. I daresay your resume is twice as impressive as the rest of us...yet you are the one fraught with worry?"

Turning from the balcony, Marcello retreated back inside and gazed down at the Princess. "What? Ugh. Is there like...a school you go to that teaches you these things? It's like talking to my first master, and that dude was basically ancient."

Cerysi only managed a smile as she reached out a hand to lightly touch Marcello on the arm. "You'll pick it up. You need only remember one thing, Lord Matteo. You have been safeguarding nations and societies your entire life. Nothing has changed other than your residence and the number of people willing to assist you. Be a champion for Naboo as you've been a champion for the galaxy. I do not sense that failure is part of your personality."

Marcello laughed softly. "I've failed plenty. I just ne---" Marcello's attention was pulled not by the two soft knocks at the door but by the presence he'd sensed sweeping down the corridor. Waving the door open, the Rogue Master smiled broadly at the sight of [member="Kiskla Grayson"], worry instantly ebbing away. "You made it."

Cerysi turned to greet the newcomer, offering a shifting glance between the two adults. "I was just leaving. You must be Master Grayson? Lord Matteo never mentioned how beautiful you are. Hopefully you can...calm his nerves a bit."

It wasn't until Cerysi had left that Marcello feigned a scoff. "Whatever...my nerves are clearly fine." Which reminded him...he still needed to talk to her about the young girl he'd met during an early trip to Naboo. One headache at a time, Marcello...

Spoiler

OOC: Open casket funeral procession will officially start from the Royal Palace to the burial location in my next post. I'll give others some time to post their arrivals and what not in the interim.

[member="Andromeda Versai"] | [member="Ajira Cardei"] | [member="Elaine Thul"] | [member="Avalore Eden"] | [member="Ryan Korr"] | [member="Ria Misrani"] | [member="Cecily Demici"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

Insofar as Jorus had a ship for official functions, it had been the D'Lessio, but he and it had taken heavy fire over Kal'Shebbol. Outlaw techs and doctors were still working their magic. He would pull through; the ship might not. For this trip, then, he was flying the old Gypsymoth, the YV-929 that had carved out the Mara Corridor and led any number of raids against the Confederacy, the Fringe, and the Sith. The Gypsymoth tended to blend in when he visited, say, shadowports. Theed, not so much. Not during a funeral of state, alongside chrome ships and finery.

Jorus wrapped up preflight a little awkwardly, what with the bandages. The last time he'd landed the Gypsymoth here had been right before he'd commanded the defense of Theed, street by street against the Obsidian Knights. Royal Security Force, local cops, the variegated Force adepts that called Theed home -- it hadn't been a lot to work with. But against eighty-plus trained Force-users, including multiple Masters, they'd won. And captured virtually every one of the surviving enemy.

Suffice it to say, the reconstruction efforts had come a long way since then.

He changed out his kolto patches and locked up the ship. The Kathol Outback's Underground forces had promised to send someone from the general staff, and the lot had fallen to him, largely because of that battle. He'd chosen his old ODF dress uniform, which bore naval Captain rank stripes and a metric fethton of ribbons. He'd been an ODF reservist, semi-retired, during the Battle of Naboo, and it had been that allegiance that had brought him here, not to mention put him in charge. He'd worn other uniforms since then -- the Levantine defense forces and astronautical corps, the Underground's general staff -- but this one seemed right.

 

[Elaine Thul]

[member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Marcello Matteo"]

Elaine attend with the head of her security as an escort, she did not want to appear alone.
She unsure what to do here, other than mingle, and she felt awkward to say the least.
She hardly knew the queen, she barely knows the person lined up to replace her.
Though she had duty to do, to stand shoulder to shoulder with her neighbours in this time.
So she made sure she looked the part, as she dressed in black, and waited for the funeral cortege to arrive.
She hated making sure the dress and coat was appropriate, as she had to make sure the standard black was correct for naboo.
She hated funerals, she had soon to many on Alderaan, force knows what the new sith overload is doing there now.

 

[Kimiko Taiyou]

It had been some time since Kimiko had actually been able to serve a purpose. Being mostly in recovery since the action on Kal'Shebbol, the toll on her mental and physical states had been to the point she had slept in a short coma. The woman had then isolated herself from those around her...she needed to get out.

Her opportunity came when [member="Jorus Merrill"] had been chosen to represent the Outback at a funeral. She had asked to tag along as an escort and servant.

She stood diligently at the ramp of the transport, her dark themed servant's robes fit the occasion. Her hands clasped in front of her as she looked out at the Theed spaceport, awestruck at the colorful assortment of ships around them. She took her spot left and abreast of Jorus as they left the port. Her silence and stoic expression did not waiver as they began their trip to the procession.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

[member="Andromeda Versai"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Elaine Thul"] | [member="Kimiko"] | [member="Kiskla Grayson"]

A few minutes later, Marcello emerged from the large guest room with the Kiffar at his side. Dressed in a series of ceremonial robes patterned in a black and blue scheme, the former Jedi Master silently traversed the long corridors of the Royal Palace. An ice-blue gaze roamed the various decorations that adorned the palace corridors, still quietly wondering what he'd gotten himself into. The thought, however, was fleeting. There was something definitively selfish about being concerned about his future when today was a day to honor the past of another. An individual that had given herself completely to others from an age much younger than Marcello. What had he been doing as an early teenager?

Nothing. Lots of shockball.

Despite the quality his life had evolved into, he couldn't help but wonder what great things Andromeda Versai might have accomplished had she benefited from a full and complete life. During the wake earlier in the day, he'd listened to the girl's mother and father speak about her various accomplishments and personality. There was an entire side to Andromeda that he, and no doubt countless others, had never known. It was indeed time that Marcello made the transition from warrior to peacemaker. He had certainly defended and, unfortunately, destroyed his fair share of societies, but he had never truly tried to build one.

It was time.

A few minutes and a deep inhale later, Marcello emerged from the main entrance of the Palace. The Princess of Theed was waiting to receive Marcello and his Kiffar mate as they began to descend the ornate steps towards the procession waiting in the courtyard. Candlelight from throngs of well-wishers gave the impression of the open-casket procession preparing to proceed down a brilliantly lit highway. What few lights were left on in the city reflected off the crystal clear waters. Naboo had given Andromeda Versai a beautiful sky under which to complete her journey, the final chapter of her immensely selfless life.

Arriving at the bottom of the steps, Marcello simply offered a polite nod to Andromeda's parents before signalling for the procession to commence.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Marcello Matteo"]

Ajira had no place in the procession. Her title was middling; so was her position within Theed Hangar's senior administration. She had a place near the front ranks at the side of the road.

It would have looked a little odd if her principal aide, Lady Shambleau, missed the event. The Mikan, presumed by all to be Omwati, or maybe Umbaran or Zeltron, had slathered on a thick layer of makeup and wore a formal Naboo dress with a heavy, broad hood. Ajira wore something similar. Worst-case scenario, Shambleau would freeze immobile -- and their role in the processional ceremony was to do exactly that.

There's something wrong with me, whispered a small, quiet part of Ajira. To stand here in a young girl's funeral and consider it through the lens of position, obligation, and risk of my secrets being revealed. I love Spencer, and Ibby to some extent, and that's my proof that I'm not some mechanical, soulless sociopath. Then again, any number of other people here are looking at these processes through a similar lens. Position. Obligation. Advantage. It's possible I'm one of the few who has no real interest in proximity to the throne. I've had a throne or two, and greater ones than this.

Still, Matteo faces an interesting challenge. Naboo has true potential. An old name, good friends, a strong shipbuilding base, naval strength of its own. A good deal of the latter due to me. I find it interesting that I've done so much work to that end. Sentiment on my part? Or just setting up options for future endeavors, maneuvers? I've never been anything really special at dejarik, but when I win, I win because I've set up five or six different possibilities and then close in. My enemy beats one or two or three of my endgames, and then one works, and another mops up. It's a brute-force approach that takes patience. By strengthening Theed Hangar's fleet so far, I recognize my old patterns at work. A Naboo-built, Naboo-owned fleet constitutes any number of options for the future. But who is the 'me' in this game? Myself? The Hangar? The government of Naboo? To what extent has my refuge turned into a home, my false identity and stolen life into a reality? That's clearly the case. Now what? Does this affect my judgment? If so, is that acceptable?

Good thing I've got this hood, and the best qey'tek meditation around. I'm not sure I could keep this much introspection from getting noticed. Fortunately, tragedy drives everyone into introspection or naked ambition. Neither pattern has much likelihood of targeting me for special notice.

 

[Elaine Thul]

[member="Ajira Cardei"]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afGjt5glJk8

Elaine stood quite her head bowed, as the funeral presentation started to pass her by. She was stood in the crowd with other nobles, the main royal family and her heir and successors, where waiting in the main building. As it passed her fell in behind it, to take her predetermined seat. She sat down, and for some reason probably as she did hate funerals, she had to dry her eyes. She then waited for the songs to be song, and [member="Marcello Matteo"] to make his speech.

 

[Ugohr Poof]

After his run-in with the crazy Zeltron predator that once wished to eat Gungans by night (or was it Omwati, or Umbaran, but in all cases she was bald), and someone attempting to buy 150 square kilometers of what was mostly forest land around Otoh Mandassa to build a silver-level podracing track, Ugohr finds himself wondering whether [member="Ajira Cardei"] made her decision concerning whether to buy the 450 or 618 Golf Lane in Rellias. She seemed to like the 450 over the Gungan-built 514 and 578 and Ugohr had to say, the 578 was rather phallic in construction. But Ugohr had yet to receive any memorandum of understanding stating that she would purchase either the 450 or 618. Before he was to leave for Elrood for his real estate business, For some reason, he senses the presence of that crazy Zeltron that wanted to eat Gungans by night. Ajira had a far better relationship to the Gungans than the crazy Zeltron ever would hope to have. Even though he was a general in the Alliance's ground army, today he was just a Gungan like another, despite wearing his dress uniform.

He quietly waited for the musikagungs (and militiagungs) to make his appearance, alongside other Gungan dignitaries like the Rep Council, regardless of whether that Gungan-eating Zeltron would actually get a chance to actually eat Gungans. And for [member="Marcello Matteo"] to make his speech. But he wouldn't know whether [member="Lady Shambleau"] actually ate Gungans that night: as far as he knew, she didn't eat Gungans while under his presence in Rellias.

 

[Marcello Matteo]

[member="Ajira Cardei"] | [member="Elaine Thul"] | [member="Kimiko"] | [member="Ugohr Poof"]

Though the mood was somber, Marcello supposed that his emotional spectrum had been hardened through decades of loss. That wasn't to say the former Jedi did not feel emotion. Quite the contrary. It was merely that when he felt emotions about something, they were very strong. He doubted there would be another heart-stopping feeling as [member="Kiskla Grayson"]'s simulated death in the Force during her capture by Vornskr. It had taken all of the strength he possessed not to give in to the rage that had quickly moved to replace the sorrow. Truthfully...he had still used his emotions. They had fueled his actions, his search for some alternate reality where Kiskla had not passed. Luck had favored him that time...finding her alive but far from what she had been during their last encounter.

As the Kiffar had mostly recovered now, Marcello remembered standing by her side through it all. It was a dedication he never really thought he would give to another. Though he'd never even had a thought of being with anyone else since that fateful night at the celebration of [member="Rianna Ar'klim-Organa"]'s wedding, he'd conversely never placed much stock or necessity in his own marriage to Kiskla. It was that thought which weighed heaviest on Marcello's mind as he sat quietly during the early parts of [member="Andromeda Versai"]'s burial ceremony. Death and loss were the furthest things from his awareness. Instead he thought of the massive weight of responsibility that would be thrust upon him in the morning.

To both the love of his life and the people whom had asked him to lead them over the next four years.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Lord Matteo of House Veruna."

Marcello gave Kiskla's hand a light squeeze before coming to his feet. The years of former military experience and subsequent service to the Jedi had forced Marcello to an understanding that exuded an air of confidence was infectious...regardless of how one might actually be feeling. As his large frame situated at the front of the room, long hair swept back behind his ears, Marcello smiled warmly at the family of Andromeda for a brief moment before shifting his gaze out to the masses. The following of the late Queen had been so large that less than an eighth had been approved for access into the funeral hall proper. The final resting place of Naboo's various monarchs over the ages - a large, regal edifice in its own right. However, large screens had been placed in various areas of Theed to afford all the opportunity to see and here. Across the planet, the holonet played similar images - even throughout Alliance space.

"During my first interaction with Queen Versai, I made a request of her. I asked her to accept the fortune I wished to donate to Naboo...in order to be a noble of no consequence in this system." Marcello paused only long enough to shrug. "I told her I merely wished to live a simple life. To rest from a life of combat and sacrifice...as if I had made some momentous contribution to the galaxy she could not hope to understand."

Another pause.

"I was wrong. I found out, days later, that she had been living with the knowledge...that she would die. She battled a genetic illness everyday of her life knowing that she could fight all she wanted, but in the end she would lose the war. It was inevitable. At that precise moment, I thought about the number of times in my life...that I had such strength." Marcello's glacier-blue gaze had hardened not into an expression of shame or regret...but empowerment. "Never. I have never willingly waded into a conflict that I did not think I had a chance of winning. Now..." The large noble paused only long enough to motion towards Kiskla with a half-smile. "...my lovely partner would, of course, argue that point saying there was no way I thought I had a chance of winning her over given our somewhat confrontational past, but-" Marcello raised his hands briefly as his smile grew among moderate laughter from those assembled. "-I think I did alright."

As the laughter died down, the smile on Marcello's lips slowly melted into a more neutral expression. "Queen Andromeda Versai...empowered me from that day forward. We never spoke of it, but she was my personal hero. In less than two decades on this planet, she managed to acquire a strength that even the most prolific of warriors wish they could have. That is the quality of her legacy and the focal point of my vow to her and her family." Marcello waved an almost dismissive hand. "I don't mean just her immediate family, whom have my deepest appreciation for their support, I mean to all of you. No matter what your job is...or what role you play on this beautiful planet of ours, you do play a role. I am not saddened by the passing of Queen Versai."

Marcello paused, ice-blue gaze surveying those arrayed before him. "I am humbled, honored to have had the opportunity to meet someone that literally left it all on the field. A person that gave every last fiber of her being to what she believed in. A person that allowed her pain to push her...from where she was to where she needed to be, where she needed to be for all of us. Ninety-three thousand and six hundred, ladies and gentlemen."

Marcello straightened his back slightly. "That is the number of seconds in a standard day. The number of moments you have to make a difference each day. I challenge you to accomplish this. When you die, leave no dream, no opportunity, no goal left behind. That is the legacy left to all of us by Queen Versai, my personal hero." Unceremoniously, Marcello stepped off the dais and returned to his position beside Kiskla.

The rest of the ceremony proceeded as required, family of Andromeda Versai saying their final, heartfelt pieces. When everything had concluded, Marcello made his way briefly to the family of Andromeda Versai, exchanging heart handshakes with the males and warm embraces with the females. Shortly thereafter, Marcello departed the building with Kiskla, making casual progress back to the Royal Palace. There was but one more ceremony to be had in the morning. This particular evening, however, Marcello would contemplate the reality of the journey upon which he was about to embark.

Spoiler

[member="Aneya Maev"]

 

[Faith Organa]

There was one duty that Faith did not look forward to, representing Alderaan at funerals. It was a role that made her feel her own mortality. Eloquent speakers would tell of the late Queens virtues if there was anything to fault her for it followed her to her resting place.

With her Captain Lindsey who nudged her when [member="Marcello Matteo"] spoke, she gave him a look that she didn't understand. The captain leaned down and explained how he knew the man, "really thank you" the new king of Naboo had a link to House Organa perhaps they could once again be friends.

Once the formalities were completed Faith headed to the suite where she would stay tonight before tomorrows festivities. She called [member="Draco Vereen"] who was off on something for his mand'alor.


Hello Drahr things are well. The funeral as beautiful as the woman described. Wish you were here. Be careful I miss you. Faith


Faith ordered in, she wasn't quite up to walking about. Tomorrow was another day.