Kinslayer
Cora was fortunate that Makko had plucked her body from the frozen wastes of Arkania in time. With the Alliance's position of fragile uncertainty, he'd elected to bring her to Naboo. They had friends there, and more importantly, safer borders.
Weeks had passed before she was able to breathe unassisted, but one lung remained collapsed while the vessels of her heart constricted and pinched, reducing blood flow and hampering her stamina.
Eventually, she was well enough to travel. It had taken quite a bit of convincing for her husband to agree to Thyferra, but Cora wanted to take stock of what - and who - was left.
After an episode during which she'd lost consciousness, she was to stay at Thyferra's medical center for observation.
"Goodness. That's a tough call."
The servos of her hoverchair whined as Cora drew closer toward the Arkanian woman locked in a game of Dejarik. The blonde scrutinized the playing field before her gaze flicked down to the pair of bacta-filled braces fitted around her fellow Jedi’s legs. Her expression softened, and her focus was back on the board.
"You must be playing against a fairly high difficulty setting."
There were several possible moves that she could see, and none could be made without sacrificing a piece to the computer. A fitting echo for the Alliance's future, if she were to send her train of thought in that direction.
“Do you find that it helps?”
Kylass Starhaven
