Somethings A'brewing about to Begin [Jedi Order]

[Harland Gates]

ANAXES​

Auxiliary Jedi Temple​

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The unthinkable had happened. For as long as there had been a Jedi Order, it had been based on the core world of Coruscant, the city-planet. While it was also home to billions of other sentients the Galaxy over, it had been a refuge, a beacon, and a landmark for the Jedi. The Order of the Light Side, and a monument and testament to their strength, and enduring legacy. Now that world had been invaded by a new fresh conglomerate of vengeful Sith lords. Their bold proclamation to the Jedi had reigned down terror like never before, and sacked the city planet, dominating it to their will and forcing the Jedi to flee. It had never been done before, and that word had spread far and wide, as it rocked the Galaxy, and shattered the dreams of future Jedi for ages to come. If the Sith could band together and accomplish this, what other horrific feats of power were they capable of displaying? That wasn't exactly the notion that had taken a pilot from the depths of space, circling the outer-rim for nearly half a decade back into the core of the Galaxy. It wasn't so much a call to action, as it was like a wreck on the space-lane. You just had to come and watch, it was instinctual, even in the sense of a planet being robbed of it's millennial heritage and birthright.

Enter one Harland Gates - a man who had been out to the edge of the Galaxy and back a time or two. A man who had shunned all that he had known for several years, so much that the boy he once was, was now lost inside a man who held a stone exterior. He'd picked up a few nicknames over his journeys, some of them unrepeatable, and some of them downright hilarious. One of the favorites was Iron Gate - a man who let no one in, and nothing out. He was a fortress in and of himself, but he got the job done. Any job really - anything that paid. He wasn't entirely picky, but he made good on his word, and he was handy to have around. The pilot of an older model ship, The Starbound moved through the atmosphere after having taken a short stop to the former planet of the Jedi and the Republic. A planet that he'd witnessed as quite a turn around. The Sith were doing more than a paint job to that place, and apparently they were not stopping. He was certain that it was going to cause quite a huff in the community he'd left behind.

Circling a star-port in the capital city, the ship landed quiet in the hangar bay, letting out billows of steam and mist as he checked his gear, and his weapons to fit snug and tight on his person. A casual garb of just cloth and leather, aside from a shirt that looked more vacation than it did anything else. He always had an heir of relaxation about him, and the shirt just seemed to fit with it's tropical fauna design underneath a leather jacket. The whine of his pistol echoed in the belly of his ship as he checked the charge, and then spun it into the holster for good measure. Never could be too careful, especially when you're aiming to head into Jedi territory. He wasn't thrilled about it, he generally put good distance between himself and the Order. He'd done that for many reasons years ago, but this even seemed to have pulled him back. It wasn't an issue of trying to sign back up. He was not some soldier come from the battlefield to herald the attack against the Sith. No, he had come here for one reason and one reason only. He just hoped he'd find her here.

​

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"Keep the coast clear. Don't want to get locked if things go south." Hal informed a repair bot that he'd 'tweaked' so that it would simply obey commands and not bother him with endless banter. It also served as a nice sparring target now and again, much to the chagrin of the droid. Gates hit the ramp and clipped down the durasteel platform in leather boots causing a heel-toe staccato to ring out in the hangar as he smoothed back his hair a bit and looked into the glinting sunlight of Anaxes' horizon. The city was quite beautiful, it was no Coruscant, but it was easy on the eyes. Footfalls took the rogue out from the docking bay to one of the many hyperlanes that led in and out of the city proper, the citadel climbing high in the distance. One of the taxi faires pulled up not long after - and praise the Force was it not a bot. "Fist full-a credits you get me as close as you can to the Jedi. Got a meet and greet and don't wanna be stuck walking." Hal said in his usual non-chalant tone as he climbed on board. No sooner than he sat down was he whisked away across the expanse and towards the spire in the sky.

A credit to the driver's on this planet, they didn't ask questions. They piloted your ass from wherever they picked you up, to exactly where you wanted to be. If that was straight into the heart of darkness, or on the cushy side of luxury, as long as they got credits, it did not matter. Good respectable honest folk, those were the ones he could get behind. It wasn't more than a few minutes until the sky cab stopped, and Gates forked over the loot before getting out. The spire was quite majestic, but it still paled in comparison to the Jedi Temple. He has half-glad that he wasn't having to adorn the steps of that edifice again, he'd much rather go to a place where he knew he wouldn't get noticed. Thumbs dug under the cut of his belt as he sauntered up towards the Citadel, as sapients went about their daily routine infront of a large open courtyard that emptied into a pair of gates currently stonewalling anyone who wanted to get closer without a permit. Then of course one of those lovable droids came just infront of Harland with a synthesized voice of pleasant greeting. :: Welcome Sir, how can I he...:: The voice short circuted as fingers gripped a voice emitter from the lower manible of the droid and tore it from the circuits.

"That looked important." Hal said with a grunt, glancing at the tech in his hands. "And annoying. I'm here to see whose in charge. How about you go ring a doorbell or something canner."

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Jsc]

A blue haired woman in titanium armor was walking up the steps through the courtyard when she noticed the droid-sans-vocabulator debacle. Not that she disapproved, naturally. Still. Best to make the effort.

"Hi there. Force Master Karen Roberts, former Navy. At your service. ...Can I help you with something sir?"

She motioned towards the retreating droid with her thumb. Her face read something akin to a musing disapproval mixed with a complete understanding for wanting to destroy protocol droids, such as they were.

[member="Harland Gates"]

 

[Harland Gates]

Sputtering and sparking components finally died down till just a stray spark as the droid turned and started towards the gate - to do what he wasn't sure. A smirk touched the pilot's face as he had the impression that he just stunned a droid. It was the simple things in life that made it worth living. The voice modulator in his gloved palm sat idle with a stray wire poking from the mechanics as an actual sentient being approached him - which is what he would always prefer. Blue hair and armor, he would of assumed Mandalorian - if he had been half blind, and couldn't read. Hal's blue eyes focused on the woman as she approached, her armor reflecting sunlight that made the silver hued features gleam and nearly glow. The smirk stayed in place after she introduced herself - a title which he wasn't asking for, but at least he had a name, and something of an understanding of her position in the grand scheme of things. Hal was half tempted to reply with one of his validated caf club membership cards, as if it held as much weight as her pronounced title. He refrained however. Instead he held out his hand and allowed the voice emitter he tore from the droid to fall into Karen's palm.

"It dropped this." The words came out deadpan, without even missing a beat, he transitioned to the next topic. "Sir is kind of brutal though, and I ain't the saluting type. Gates will do, if Roberts works for you." While he could be an obstinate nerf-herder type of a personality, he had some legitimate respect for people in the military. He at least considered that a job worth having, after all it wasn't all glowsticks and mantras, it was real honest work. He could appreciate that much, even if she did say former. Yes - this man was certainly jaded. Still he wasn't as chummy with her, giving a last name. "I'm looking for who runs the show around here, have a feeling they might want to see me too, but don't quote me on that." He didn't know the kind of reception he'd receive -hence the blaster on his hip just in case it turned into an interrogation.

[member="Karen Roberts"] [member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Jsc]

Roberts raised a brow. She was the officer type who didn't do well with nerf herders. But she'd be patient with guests. It was only social.

"They're either inside or traveling. Usually working by appointment too. And, I take it you don't have one of those or you'd be in her office already."

It came out kind of harsh. But this was business now. No need to sugar coat it.

"Give me a moment and I can leave a note with her secretary. No promises though. ...So. Anything else I should mention or is the name of the game just going to be Gates for now?"

The woman took to steps towards the entrance and stopped again. She wasn't in a hurry but she didn't enjoy talking to strange men with no tact. I guess the Navy had rubbed off on her like that. Happens to a lot of women.

[member="Harland Gates"]

 

[Harland Gates]

Her mouth moved a little bit more this time, more than before. He'd caught the words, but moreso the tone, and it caused the pilot to offer a smirk as to her attitude. Gates genuinely liked people who didn't stand on ceremony, or thought there was call to impress. He also never strove to make that impression unless there was a pistol aimed at their forehead. What he did hear though at least gave him some bit of hope, that single three letter deceleration that he wasn't in the wrong place after all. It was kind of formal though; a secretary, and an office. He didn't expect the sudden shift of all that was the Order moving to a different planet - that everything was going to be so 'red tape' here at the Citadel, but apparently office space had it's perks, and it's dismal downfalls. Breaking rigs and regulations though was what Hal had cut his teeth on early in life. It was a trait that died hard, and wasn't looking for an early funeral.

"Trust me, if there was ever advanced notice - I'm not sure I would of been able to land, much less get an invite. So let's spare the corporate countermeasures, and just walk me in." He took the same two step advance that Roberts had made, hands still tucked against his belt as he glanced her way. Surely as a Force Master, and former Naval officer, Karen Roberts could handle a pilot at her side. "You might even get to see me get punched - which always gets a laugh." He mentioned with as much of a charming grin as he could pull off. He wasn't joking though, not that he was anything of a threat, but there was a history here, and he wasn't entirely sure how it would play out. He'd left for a reason, and he'd come back for one, and neither were anywhere close to the same. The Jedi temple guards would have stopped him about mid-courtyard he wagered. They seemed to have beefed up security a bit more here now that Coruscant was the playground of the darkside.

[member="Karen Roberts"] [member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

War meant projects, and projects needed to be tended to. Kiskla was still getting used to her role (although the weight of The Order and it’s reputation had been on her shoulders for well over a year — she was just getting credit for it now) and having to decide how to allocate responsibilities.

For the most part, she kept the politics to herself. She was the genuine article, after all. She’d already been scolded by her council for participating in a self-jeopradizing scouting mission to discover where the One Sith had come from. Apparently that wasn’t something a Grandmaster should be doing, putting herself at needless risk like that. IT would be difficult to tame the wildfire — that had been her title long before Grandmaster, after all. This Mother Goose business ruffled her feathers.

Recovering ancient artifacts was spread throughout some Shadows from Ossus, but mostly Master Rekali.

Knowledge and maintenance of the archives fell to Master Alince’s hand.

Battle training was Master Wraith’s focus.

Maintenance of the shadows was Master Vosra, as well as keeping the Ossus temple secure.

On reading that, her head pounded and she reached up to brace it. Something about Ossus wasn’t right — and it wasn’t about the banishment of Master Ike.

With a frown, the sweetheart of The Republic closed the files she had been working on and steepled her fingers in thought, hunching severely on her desk. Selfishly, she checked a single file with an update from the colonies — to this she assumed no news was good news.

“Master Grayson,” came the strange dialect of a nuisance-bringing R-1 droid as it hovered into the office without announcement “There’s unsettlement in the corridor.”

She waved her hand, perturbed by the droid’s inability to see her overly-obvious thinking pose.

“It’s very disruptive.”

“Is it?” The Kiffar replied. The droid obviously didn’t see the irony in the announcement. It hovered there, not amused or registering any sort of reaction to her statement. Finally, her frame lifted from the seat — she should be stretching her legs about now anyway; she had to keep fresh for the impending battles to come. Vornskr was on her list, and she’d hit the core of their gaggle of goblins one by one. “Fine.”

It took some time to reach the corridor, at this point there had been a few transactions between [member="Karen Roberts"] and the newcomer. Or, somewhat newcomer. A strange, resonating feeling tapped lightly as an indication on her ethereal glow and she frowned slightly.

“Master Roberts,” The blonde nodded in salutations, her long legs credited to closing the distance quite quickly with minimal effort. Light eyes glanced at the circuits in the blue-haired female’s hand, then at the perpetrator who was giving her that strange feeling. Her façade maintained cool however, despite her metaphysical perplexion. “..And..?” The pause was an indication for an introduction from [member="Harland Gates"].

 

[Jsc]

"This is Pilot Smarty-Pants the Droid Destroyer. No affiliation."

Karen replied with no sense of fan-fair. Though she was surprised that Grayson had come in person. Perhaps destiny was at work here. Interesting.

"And excellent timing I might add. He was just asking for you."

She turned abreast and nodded. I appeared her job as hostess was at an end.

"Will you speak with him or shall I show him out? At your command Grandmaster."

The words were royal but Karen's posture remained comfortably herself. If there was no need for her presence, she would easily move about her business. No need to remain any longer than was necessary. Especially for a conversation meant for two.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Harland Gates]

No sooner than they had started maneuvering through the gates to the main corridor, than the clipped heels of a blonde woman strode towards them. Blue eyes fastened on her from the moment she was in plain view, and didn't let go. It had been nearly eight years by his counting - which wasn't exactly stellar. During his youth and even up until now he was fashionably late, or less. The years had changed him from the kid she had known, to a man that had become so distant, that for nearly six years there hadn't been a word between them. His visage aged a bit, especially with the goatee framing his lower jaw and chin, and a different - more renegade cut to his hair. It was militant in nature, although he had never served officially. He had filled out a bit more, gaining some upper body mass and larger shoulders. Aside from that, his clothes were certainly uncharacteristic of the Jedi she had known. These were the clothes of a common man, perhaps a smuggler with the leather jacket and holster at his hip. Otherwise it was unremarkable.

Grayson had also made a change not so much in her wardrobe, but in the way she carried herself. The clothes hadn't changed much, in fact that looked downright bleak. He never liked the Jedi robes, even hated wearing his own. She had however gracefully matured into a woman that he almost didn't peg until she spoke. The last time he'd seen her had been on a joint mission, both of them in their Jedi padawan attire. The change in her from a learner to the now GrandMaster of the Order was something he hadn't expected, and half didn't believe when he'd heard it. That was why he came here, why he almost knew he'd find her here at the current site for the Order's home base. Now he was standing face to face with a girl he'd known for years, and realized that he didn't know that woman at all anymore. That of course wouldn't stop his mouth.

"I think she'll make time - especially after such a spirited intro." His gaze shifted momentarily to Karen with a smirk resting on his face, before both shoulders raised and then fell in a shrug. "But then again I just lost two-hundred credits on a pod-race against a Druos from Bothan. Make of that what you will." His gaze turned, his eyes focused again, and he offered a genuine smile while he crossed both arms over his chest, and tilted his head to the side, admiring her for a moment. She was a rather cute girl when he knew her, and those emotions he was warned would get him in danger. Man did they ever. Now he was free to look without a Master of the order breathing down his neck. "So Ace, kissed the sky recently?" It was her nickname, one he'd given her during the first time she had 'crashed' a simulator. They weren't experts at the beginning, and it had been a veiled insult at the time, but she had earned the name afterwards. Even put him down in a few faux dog-fights in the past.

[member="Karen Roberts"] [member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

"I'm here, the pilot can show whether or not the time is worthwhile." Coincidence and timing could be the darndest thing. She nodded politely to the blue-haired [member="Karen Roberts"], before turning to focus on the youth from her past -- unbeknownst to the Jedi until he started speaking. That voice was a few octaves lower than before, but it was in the expressions and mannerisms that she found a familiar solace to prey on. Her brow quirked in response, not so much to his word, but to the workings of her mind as all that had happened recently was pushed aside and begun to dig for far more distant recollections.

A ping didn't alert until he asked her if she'd flown lately, to which she would have responded usually with a disappointed or curt 'No'. The last time she'd done any fancy flying had been on Anaxes with a friend turned sour. But that was beside the point. Her curved jawline dropped slightly, and her ever-identifying pouted lips parted in surprise. She looked foolishly blank, and her teeth immediately clicked together and mouth shut. No karking way. She hadn't been floored in a long while, and this sort of feeling where the ground was pulled out had a strange element of refreshment to it. If she had been a dog, her ears would have flattened against her head at the use of the word 'Ace'.

He had bulked out, seemed able to grow some facial hair finally, and was...largely similar to the prick of a friend that she'd separated from years ago. How long? She hadn't been counting. She'd never been one for numbers -- that's why her flight patterns had been mostly intuitive; as was all else.

So all that aside, why was he here? Was it coincidence of history, or the fact she'd pulled others to the light that he had come crawling back to The Order. Was he crawling? He didn't seem so, there wasn't even the faintest slouch in [member="Harland Gates"]' posture. How did she respond to that? With her typical poise, that's how.

"Those droids are expensive." She muttered, almost adding on something about how times were tough when in a war situation. But, time was pressed -- she'd be blunt as usual; which was quite unlike the chattery Padawan he'd known. "How...where have you been? Why are you..?" She didn't finish the sentence, remembering just in time that she'd always been awful at looking the gift horse in the mouth.

 

[Jsc]

The Force had a funny way of letting you know what was going on. Impressing upon your mind the slightest hint or the smallest picture. Even without speaking the words it had a way of whispering to your soul that everything was going to become new again. Karen smiled and took a tiny step backwards. Then the titanium woman gave a quiet nod and turned to leave. Some happy moments were meant only for two.

/exit

 

[Harland Gates]

Fate. Destiny. That all fell in with the mantras, the meditations and the life he'd left behind - only now he was standing smack dab in Jedi Central talking to the Grandmaster. Sure he'd left that life behind alright, to apparently sail around the stars for the last five or six years and end up here. There was a reason behind it, perhaps not one that'd he outright admit, but he had reasons for just about everything he did - legitimate ones and the other kind. He chalked it up to coincidence and good timing that he'd managed to get a face to face with his old friend within ten minutes time of touching down. He'd thought about it as well, a time or two -- how this meet would go. What Kiskla's reaction would be to seeing someone that she'd spent years training besides and flying beside that he exited her life and the Order in such an abrupt manner. A glint in his blue eyes, as he was pleased to know that he could still take the words right out of her silver tongue.

As the blue-haired Master parted company, he studied her face. The expressions of shock, surprise, and complete bewilderment all being placed and sorted in her understated visual ques. There was conflict in those eyes, and a billion conversations between them that never happened. She was worlds away when he left, when he said his goodbyes through a single message, not even a hologram recording. At the time he couldn't even face her virtually. His world had crumbled around him, his entire structure of belief had been so shattered and broken that he had to leave it behind. He was rather sure there was resentment on both sides, and he regretted it often, not reaching out again. He had cut ties, and soldiered on, until now. Whether this was going to be a 'happy' moment, he couldn't quite tell.

"This, that, and the other. Never in that order." Gates' offered a slow nod, knowing there was still quite a bit of shock left over, causing the blond to lose her train of thought mid-sentence and ponder his arrival with the list of twenty questions her mind was running through. He paused, and waited, his eyes met her own and they focused a bit more. He wasn't touching the Force these days, he stayed away from it mostly, and there hadn't been a twinge of regret in that decision either. Ancient religions...and the rest you know. His lips finally parted after a moment, and he relented from his normal sarcasm.

"Hey." Simple, to the point and casual, but that one word said volumes. A picture was worth a thousand words, but a single utterance could fill a thousand pages - especially when there was a history, and there indeed was between them. His foot moved forward, breaking his stance, arms slid to his side before he came forward both hands came right to her waist and he pulled her in. Gates' was not known for being emotional, he wasn't known for it because he wasn't. The times when he actually let out that he was able to be affected by things that the Galaxy through at him were rare times now a days. This was one of those, but it meant a lot. Still, he half expected a slap to the face before he'd get anywhere near those darkened robes. He took the risk.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]​

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

When Kiskla was younger, she had been a very bubbly and loveable imp. She'd taken days to blow off lessons and simply roam with Gates-- sometimes venturing into Naboo's swampland and poking at random toads before sitting in the mud and hair staring at them. Kiskla wasn't so emotionally receptive these days, and Harland's disappearance was only a single block in her internal jenga. There had been many factors that prepared the cinematic eccedentiast for her premiere; now with the spotlight always on, so was the façade.

Instinctively, from years of training and honing her body to be a weapon, her arms snapped up when [member="Harland Gates"] stepped in. Both palms met his pectorals with a rigid heel, preventing his arms from fully wrapping. With all the betrayal that was happening lately, someone who was coming in after years in the cold held no promise of grander — despite his history with the prodigal Kiffar.

“No — real answers.” Her light eyes flashed for a moment, and she held her ground. “It’s been years, Gates. Years.

Where have you been, and why are you back now.”

It was nothing personal, it was business. She was a youth thrown into a lot of responsibility, and if she let any sort of judgemental err by her based on emotional naïvety she’d never live it down. Despite her better judgement, she asked about his personality: "What's in it for you?"

 

[Harland Gates]

He had expected to be punched, or slapped. He knew he deserved that for leaving like he did - and he had banked on not being welcomed back with open arms. What he hadn't banked on -- was Kiskla, or this version of her that was now holding his arms at bay with a quick and sudden trained motion. It made the pilot pause, his arms testing somewhat the limitations of her actions, only to find them firm and rigid. It wasn't only the flash of her crystal blue eyes that showed the determination and grit, it was her tone and her actions. She had changed, maybe more than even he had, and it was something of a blow to his memory of the girl. At one point in his life, she was his whole world - and he hadn't spent a day when they weren't side by side. it had been five years, and the space between them was so thick with tension and mistrust that she'd be hard pressed to carve her saber through it. In all the years he'd known her though, she never had pushed him away, and it felt strange to drop his arms, though he reluctantly did and took a measured step back.

"When did you become such a robe-head?" That was a term between them and a handful of then padawans that they'd shared it with. The Masters of the order, the robe-heads were the paragon of the Jedi Order, and they were by the book serious. It wasn't that the Jedi weren't a lively bunch, but the padawns generally didn't get to see the levity of the Order, they saw all business. To Gates it was a constant stream of rules, regulations and mantras that were endless, inexhaustible, and downright annoying. They all said they would never grow up to be that, that their order would be different. Dreams of children, but the term stuck. He was calling her out on it though - the change he saw. She fit the description, and he was disheartened to see it. Needless to say he wasn't exactly pleased at the reaction. He'd of taken a punch a whole lot better than this.

"Why am I here?" Generally repeating the question meant you were stalling, but in this tone it was more about shock-and-awe than trying to buy time. A smile cut across his face, but not one of enjoyment, it was simply laughable to be asked such a question considering recent events. "Coruscant ring a bell Ace? How many millenniums has it stood as Jedi Central?" He said, his voice raising, his right arm gesturing in the direction of the nearest wall, as if somehow indicating that Coruscant was in that direction. It might of been, he really wasn't sure. "The Galactic Empire, the Vong War, the Gulag Plague, the rise of the Sith time and time again, and it was -never- taken down. Never completely overthrown in the history of the fething Galaxy!" Yeah, he was passionate about it, but it didn't stand to reason considering he had left the Order. "And you wonder why I'm back now? They marched in and took it Ace - right out from under you." Yeah he knew, everyone knew. "Word spreads - even out to where I was." He still hadn't answered where exactly that was.

Gates paused, his hands dropped as he leaned against the corridor wall. A shake of his head was offered as he ran fingers through the dark auburn locks cut in a militant fashion. He was angry with her, for the audacity that he heard in her tone. He was angry at himself for not going to see her first after he left. There was a lot of anger in him, enough that even a padawan would take a second glance. But he was relenting now, the anger subsiding and the rationale leaking back into his persona. He never stayed angry at Grayson for long - never could. He could go up against crime lords, hutts, even a few Mandalorians and not blink. But that gaze, that soul penetrating stare that she could inflict with a single glance - it still could cut right through the exterior and see him for who he really was. Oh how he hated that stare.

"So what's in it for me?" He said a small chuckle at the laughable conclusion he had drawn when he heard the news. His blue eyes turned, facing Kiskla as both eyebrows sunk in and expression of concern. Something he wasn't always so apt to show. "You are Ace...I came back to find you."

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

[member="Harland Gates"] came back to find Ace, but instead found a Jedi that had boiled blood just over a year ago with some unexplored talent. Someone who bridged the gaps between the light and dark by welcoming in Sith who came in from the cold and establishing treaties with foreign worlds. One who was slowly but surely gaining some respect for the Jedi title once again. It was a process and a half, but she’d always been determined.

Before she had taken off, and Harland had left, she was a different girl. She had been a girl. Then, when that distress call rang, she’d gone to save her family. They’d dropped like flies until her mother died in her arms. Then, Kiskla had let in the dark side and slain the woman’s captors. Two years later, and her ethereal presence was commanded to warden ancient architects of The Force itself. A shadow that had kept her alive when her very Force signature was ripped from her and she became a vessel to murder her late master. The very essence of the dark side of the Force was imprisoned in the alchemical cuff hidden beneath her sleeves — only kept undetectable by the very council itself by her unparalleled abilities with Art of the Small.

He was looking for Ace perhaps, but she was so much more now. She had always been dimensional, a cube perhaps. A prism. Now, she was a polyhedron of complexities and webs all woven so intricately that not a single person in the galaxy knew everything about Kiskla Grayson. Some thought they knew it, little details, but they were sorely mistaken and would not be corrected for their assumptions. The woman across from him, although seemingly nothing more than an ornate representation of The Jedi Order, was the epitome of balance and façades.

“Huh.” She breathed, as if considering everything he had to say with little to no interest. She did afford him a quirked brow, however, as she folded her arms across her chest and cocking her hip. The term that had been condescending at one time meant little to her, it was like bouncing off rubber. It was a falsity. Kiskla wasn’t orthodox, she was reckless. Her council was keeping her in check these days though, scolding her if there were lines to be wary of tiptoeing over. And she had someone she constantly needed to impress, for he was always disdainful of The Jedi and methodologies. Kiskla didn’t believe in tradition. She believed in necessity and efficiency.

“You’re here to help.” Her observation was placid and strung between them like day-old spaghetti. Kiskla paused, giving her old friend a once-over, wondering whether or not she could let her walls down. She couldn’t. She never could. She would forever be enigmatic and blanketed in mystery; it was a cocoon she had accidentally suffered her identities in and allocation was becoming difficult.

“Do you have a plan — or you find me and I show you the promised land.”

 

[Harland Gates]

Help?! Apparently his words weren't as pointed as he had believed him to be in the seconds after he had finished saying them. He had no loyalties to the Jedi, no loyalties to the Republic, the Sith or any other faction vying for a slice of the Galaxy like one proverbial pie. Gates was his own man - a man who had lost his way, and instead of looking for an answer from someone else, he'd found it in himself. He had cut his teeth in the Galaxy these last five years. In a war torn and constant power struggle where treaties, and contracts were the currency of the times. A truce here, a joint faction there, the rise and fall of systems across the stars swaying in what was laughably called balance. He had no ideas as to what his childhood friend had gone through in his time aborad, as he likely wouldn't have waited so long to return to find her. That however was his reason now, he came back to find her - but as it turns out, he still hadn't found her. Gates was looking for what was, and he was staring down the face of what is. The two images didn't match up, at least beyond the surface.

"Promised land - must be chewin' the lunaweed. I'm not some prodigal son coming back to the halls of the Light. I'm Hal coming back to find Ace, and make sure that she's in one piece." He offered in a slightly agitated tone as he surveyed her posture and her facial expressions. "And I'm not rightly sure she is." Gates added in as he took a step forward. "Yeah I left, I got outta dodge and went my own way. Maybe I screwed up, maybe that was the biggest game of kick-the-rancor a guy could play, but it was my call." He said thumb to chest emphatically. "But I didn't come back from the black to lock horns with a grand master. I came back to find my best friend in the entire Galaxy and make sure that she didn't fall when Coruscant did." For a Jedi - especially of her caliber, the pain was evident in his thoughts and in his voice. There were few things that a man like Harland Gates cared about in the cosmos; his ship, his life, his coin...and her. Kiskla Grayson was one of the few people he could respect as a Jedi, any others were long dead. Whatever this was though, it seemed like his best friend had gotten swallowed up in this implacable demeanor.

Harland though was no moral compass of truth or beacon of light. His priorities had shifted and he wasn't the same semi-white lighter that he'd been on Naboo. He'd fallen in with criminals and thugs, and even took on their identity a time or two. Mercenary work, a few smuggling positions. He'd been thrown in prison, nearly killed a dozen or more times. Five prices laid on his shoulders from gambling debts alone. He was a drinking, gambling, womanizing cheat that would just as soon steal from you than blast you between the lids. It was business though - just like Grayson, it wasn't personal. This however, this meeting was very personal. When a man loses his way, loses his belief in everything he holds, and the last piece of that jagged and shattered puzzle becomes so blurred he can't make it out - it threatens his pysche, his core. And no matter what road he traveled, Ace was in his thoughts.

"So tell me, did I come back too late. Is my best friend standing here in front of me, or did I throw snake eyes one last time?"

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Her pouted lips curled downward -- they had always been her most distinguishable feature, and would remain to be. She was used to being accused, escalation came with a price -- being the one to make the calls came with whispers. Thankfully, she usually had a cheering chorus with her condemnations -- but she was aware there were those unsettled. Mostly because she was mystifying. A Jedi Master, 21, leading an ancient Order? One who didn't even know the roots of the Jedi lore? Blasphemy. And still, they dedicated their lives to her dictations. At heart, she was still somewhat unchanged. She didn't like mornings (although sleep came rarely these days, there was too much to oversee -- The Force kept her sustained and satisfied). She still was a bottomless pit when it came to her appetite, and she could still fly circles around many of the RAF. Her wit was also untouched, and still as sharp as ever. "Let me paint you a picture, since you seem to be one for the arts now -- especially theatre what with all these dramatics."

Her arms unfolded and her hands rested on her slender hips, squaring her shoulders to look at [member="Harland Gates"] who was on his high horse -- just as she remembered him. But then, she'd been in the same saddle.

"I appreciate your concern for my personal well-being. And I'm impressed at the longevity of your consternation. Thank you. I'm well, and I'm alive, as are many in The Jedi Order and The Republic, but unfortunately the ratio isn't as strong as I'd like it to be. So as much as I'd like to take the time to be selfish and indulge myself in the comfort and solace of someone who wants to make sure I'm alright -- well." She pff'd at this, snorting slightly with a shake of her head "You said it yourself, Gates. Coruscant fell. There's a much larger things at hand. An unfathomable scope.

If you're here to help, I'll make arrangements for you. Heck, you can even keep a personal monitor on me so your concern doesn't cripple you while galaxies away. Goodwill is good for karma -- which is something your gambling has always demanded.
If your visit is a one-way street, then again, thank you, but this conversation ends here." It was a painful statement, but it was delivered through cold, marble lips. She was fully aware she was cruelly leveraging whatever ounce of affection the man had of their friendship. That wasn't very robe-headed of her at all.Perhaps he believed she was still the girl that giggled for hours over the slightest of whims. Perhaps it was her company, but she laughed little these days, although always appreciative of humour. There was nobody to deliver it. And Harland hadn't seen her with crushed bones, an infected mind, a poisoned bloodstream, and covered in blood of her own and others -- not that she cut to kill. She cut to maim, always leaving an opening for a sliver of redemption -- but battle was always a messy affair. And her skills as a warrior were not laughable.

True, this conversation could have gone smoother. She could have been as empathetic as she was to those who said they were interested in the lightside of The Force. Kiskla was a redeemer, she was known for it after all her work as the Councillor of Reconciliation. The fact of the matter was, another person of importance in her life would be detrimental to her cognitive and decision-making abilities. Darron was back from his time soul-searching, he was advising her from Tython. He knew a lot about her from Flow Walking -- and he mattered to her. Ben Watts had also returned, and he was important to her to the point that she'd jumped between him and three Sith -- one being a Maleabus because she believed he should lead The Jedi Order. Apparently her heroics had earned her this exulted position. Tamara was somewhere in space, and although both women liked to keep their secrets, there was a compassionate understanding. Tamara was Kiskla's first admitted friend in years. Then there was Marcello, who Kiskla had befriended five years ago. Well, not befriended in the slightest actually, but he'd grown used to her and visa versa and now she didn't even want to evaluate his impact on her life for fear of admittance. And her throne on Kiffu and Kiffex -- that entire nation of warriors was important to her. She knew the dangers of shatterpoint, and if she admitted it to herself these would all be breaking points.

Harland Gates could not be that straw on the camel's back. So she would remain as plastic as possible, and stay away from flames for fear of melting.

 

[Harland Gates]

If there was anyone in the collective of the core, mid-rim, or the unknown regions who could get under his skin better than Kiskla Grayson, he didn't know it. While she could be the balm of his temper, and the light in his darkness, she could also rake the coals and fan the flames of his frustration like no one else. He had always been a bit of a hot-head, and his flare for the dramatic was also an unchanged feature when things got him hot under the collar. He'd worked hard to dampen that particular bad habit of his. To the rest of the Galaxy, he was the smart-mouthed spacer that could wheel and deal with the best of him. A touch of everyday sardonic humor laced within every onset of speech. The Iron Gates had warded off many attempt to seep into his personal space, and guard against beliefs and trust. The chip on his shoulder over time had formed into armor plating.

Unfortunately for Hal, Grayson was firing armor piercing rounds from her sharp and quick tongue. The evidence of her affect on him was apparent, with the gripping his digits into tight fists. She was getting to him, getting underneath him, and she hadn't shown a dent in her armor that was raised the moment she realized he was back. Sure, she made sense logically, defending her stand by the fall of Coruscant, and the needs of the Jedi outweighing the reunion of long lost friends. Logic however could be to the kath-hounds as far as he was concerned.

"You..." He grunted and let out a sigh, his forefinger rising to point in accusatory fashion at her. "If I...." He struggled to find words, they were failing his quick to wit nature. "One way street...." He gave a huff of anger, driving his fist in a semi hard approach to the nearest wall, with a dull thud against the metal. If it hurt he didn't register anything but aggravation. "You think you can just go cold on me? I am not one of your students Kiskla, or your council, or a karking Senator. I'm the guy who fought by your side through Gundarks, charged the planes of Datooine, and held you for two days while you recovered from crazed bantha fever." He turned, his eyes narrowed on Grayson as he approached her again, this time far more dominant in his stance. One hand coming to rest on her right shoulder, a heavy hand that wasn't going to be batted off so easily.

"You don't lock me out. Not you...not after all this time. I came here to find you, and I am -not- just going to walk away because you have bigger things on your plate sister." If she knew anything about Gates at all, anything from their time in the swamps of Naboo - she knew this. He was loyal. He didn't shake, he didn't bend, he would weather the storms and brave the winds if you were in his book, and at his side. Grayson was the only person he knew that he still cared that much for, and it would take more than a cold shoulder of hers to ward him away. Gates didn't have the luxury of friends, of companions in his days. He didn't have the faith to trust again that he wouldn't relive what had torn his world apart. She was that last thread of hope, and if this was the Redeemer of the Jedi, the sweetheart of the Republic - maybe she just might see that while he had come to find her. Perhaps it was Ace that needed to find Hal.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Both brows lifted when he expressed himself savagely against a nearby wall. Vindictively, she hoped his knuckles bruised. Pulling out memories from skinny adolescences was nothing -- she'd forgotten about that fever. Let me tell you, her experience with vong poison was very much worse; and she'd been alone for that. Until she reached the Circle of Healers. As for fighting by her side, she had plenty of comrades who had faced far more severe threats; not that his was insignificant, she'd just not held it in the same cradled esteem he had, apparently.

Her expression remained unflinching, although her nostrils flared slightly and she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she oft' did when irritated. She let him touch her this time, just so he could feel as though his point was driven.

"Then you are here to help." She said simply, drawing in a thin breath that caused her small shoulders to move slightly, despite the weight of his hand. He could play to her inner-Ace all he wanted, but she was a practiced show woman. A ring leader. [member="Harland Gates"] could see that and call her out on it until the rotations completed ten times over, but it wouldn't change.
"Or did you want to go skipping through knee-deep mud again; would that prove to you that I'm fine?" Stressed but fine. "Please, walk me through how you want me to respond, Hal. How does Ace react to this."

 

[Harland Gates]

An old but true saying. When a woman says she's fine, she is anything but. There were however few times when he'd ever changed Grayson's mind when she was dead-set on something. What really floored him is how she could be so distant, so stonewalling when he had already made it clear he'd let down his shields around her. He always had, but in five years so much had changed for the both of them, that trying to recapture the past was like trying to hold onto lightning. Pale blue eyes shifted, weighing her expressions, looking for that insight into her inner self, the one she guarded with a shield of placid calm. What had they done to her? He wondered, and by they he had meant more than just the Jedi, but he knew at least in part that it had something to do with the Order. She'd been shaped into something else, someone else that despite pressing the advantage of recalling fond memories, she resisted.

For a while he said nothing to her declaration that he was here to help. This hadn't been one of the ways in which he imagined the reunion going. This was an unexpected curve ball to his idea about Kiskla Grayson, the GrandMaster. She had turned into a robe-head for sure, but he could still see her in there. Despite her calm demeanor, he had touched a nerve or two, but she was ultimately better at hiding it. In classic fashion of the man she had known, Gates' game face slid back into play and his sly grin raised as he gave her an audible response.

"It's nice to see you too. I'll be in touch." He had said it, she hadn't. Perhaps he was just trying to place a little bit of guilt on her end for a change. And with that, he leaned forward and placed kiss on her cheek before he withdrew his hand and started to head the other way. "And they're cheaper when they don't talk. The Droids that is." Gates called out behind him, leaving the Grandmaster to stand in the hallway. Was it all a game to the man, or was that real emotion that he displayed in the corridor. Five years had gone by, and Harland Gates was back in her life. Whether or not she was affected by the meeting, if she'd have to internalize the affair and bring it into subjugation to her mind - one thing was for certain. An east wind was blowing, and something was about to begin; for both of them.

[member="Kiskla Grayson"]​