Faction Station of Solace (SJO, TJO, and any/all Jedi)

[Aldric]

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Peace
Jedi Moon

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The porcelain sea of ghost grass swayed gently. Peace appeared serenely cold at first glance, but a warm breeze rolled over its surface. Giant golden rings kept its atmosphere regulated. Ancient constructions of enigmatic design, they surrounded the station a far way above its surface, allowing Jedi and friend alike to roam its broken landscape.

Recently large parts of the station had come to be inhabited by more than Jedi guardians. Refugees from the war-torn planet of Kintan had settled in and around several of the Zeffo structures dotting Peace's surface. Though its Jedi residents had worked tirelessly to undo the disrepair eight centuries of abandonment had wrought, the sudden influx of inhabitants had worked to breathe new life into many of the halls that yet stood empty.

The combined effort of many Jedi had ensured that the refugees were not left wanting of compassion. The Jedi of Silver Rest and Peace had fought side by side in the defence of Kintan's people and their joint action extended to ensure they were not abandoned in the aftermath. Peace had provided the space and Silver Rest the resources; together they spared the people of Kintan the cruel venom of the Sith's war machine that still seeped into their home. It was together that the Jedi were helping those people here on Peace to this day.

The refugees still required all the help they could get, even on Peace. Many still bore scars and injury, others suffered illness and loss. Much still had to be done to alleviate their pain. Of Peace's Jedi, Ryv had taken charge in coordinating humanitarian relief efforts. Personal responsibility for the victims of war had kept him working tirelessly to bring compassion to those who needed it most.

Furthermore, Peace was a massive station, many of its ancient corridors still stood unexplored. Curiosity had driven many a padawan to get lost inside the massive structures many still believed to subtly rearrange through mysterious and unknown means. For many of the Jedi who stepped onto the station for the first time the prospect of exploring its inner workings made for an irresistible adventure.

The Masters from Peace and Silver Rest alike had come together for a tour of the station's efforts, an opportunity to appreciate what their combined compassion had managed to achieve. The mantle of duty weighed heavily on their shoulders. Expectations of guidance during these trying times of war from younglings, padawan, knights, and refugees alike brought the pressure of leadership down on them to bear. Even they were still mere sentients, in need of brief respite to remind themselves of what it was they fought for.

 

[Quinvee Dogen]

Peace was simply a marvel of engineering. There was no other way to describe it. When his brother and sister told him that they would be able to bring Quin to Peace to study the ancient Zeffo and slowly accumulating Jedi texts he thought they had been joking. As one of the few non-Jedi on the station it was a privilege to watch their meditations, sit in on their lectures, and have access to their library and the food processors here weren't too bad either. Day in and day out the station's Zeffo constructed caretakers hovered about busying themselves with cleaning this area or that, aiding the Jedi in making the place livable for people again. Quin helped out where he could, but often times he felt like he was more in the way of the caretaker constructs than anything. They were also a huge help to his research, able to find any text in the library or direct him when he got lost in the seemingly endless corridors and shifting hallways of the deeper passages. But it wasn't just he and the Jedi anymore. Refugees from Kintan had been brought to Peace temporarily and Quin had taken up residence with them, helping out where he could.

"You still surprise me with your strength," said one of the elder Nikto refugees. WIth brown scales and a refined look about him, Gin-Ro was a local leader of the Mountain Nikto and had stepped up to the plate regarding distributing resources and talking with the Jedi alongside other Nikto leaders. The man patted Quin's large biceps like he was some sort of prize nerf. Quin smiled sheepishly from behind his thick, green beard and shrugged, the stack large plastoid bins of components shifting uneasily in his arms.

"I try to stay strong. Always comes in handy in times like these." With a grunt, he set the containers down with a soft thud and jangle. Dusting his hands he stretched and looked over towards the precession of Jedi. He adjusted his glasses and asked, "Another meeting?" The Nikto sigh grunted and placed his hands on his hips.

"It seems like we have one every day."

"They're doing their best Gin-Ro. They took everyone in, but this place...Probably hasn't seen use in over two thousand years."

"Well they should have put a sign up that said 'Shifting Tunnels Snatch Younglings'"

"Someone else go missing?"

"Last night, another youngling. One of the Pales. His brother is worried sick." Quin wanted to ask where the kids' parents were but if they weren't here then he probably knew the answer.

"I'll ask my siblings to pass it on to the Council. I'm sure they can get a search party out and start looking for these kids." Gin-Ro grunted indignantly and started walking towards the Jedi. When he was out of hearshot Quin squatted down and hefted the six containers again and started for the refugee camp.

 

[Ryv]

Dark bags decorated the spot beneath each of Ryv's eyes, showcasing the Jedi Knight's lack of proper rest in recent days. His head throbbed whenever he moved too quickly, and his body ached from continuously pushing himself to take care of the refugees of Kintan. Each meeting held by the masters aboard Peace helped keep things tidy and in order when it came to the administrative efforts. Still, the growing refugee camp followed an ebb and flow all its own—many of the refugees stuck to their small communities and avoided unnecessary interaction with the Jedi of Peace. Ryv couldn't blame them. Being displaced overnight and forced to abandon his home would likely do the same to the Jedi.

The kiffar took a moment to look himself over in the mirror as he washed away dirt and grime from his hands. The face that stared back at him reminded him more of his spice-running days in the outer rim than it did the Jedi he had become. He quietly told himself the masters were hard at work, determining where the large group would settle once the wounded were taken care of and families reunited. Turning away from the sink, he took hold of the rag hanging from his belt and dried his hands while departing from his room's washroom before moving out into the corridors of Peace.

He nodded to a group of their guests as a youngling duo led them on tour through the station.

"I need to remember to thank these kids for all their hard work. Maybe extra dessert once this all blows over? Master Quill would probably love that too," Ryv chuckled as he turned down a hall and strode into the station's central hangar. Being large enough to house ships of varying sizes, it made up the most substantial part of the refugee camp. Each corridor breaking off from the hangar housed tent-like structures and bundles of cloth used to shelter the former residents of Kintan temporarily. More younglings and padawans walked among them, delivering food at the scheduled mealtime, but they weren't enough to ensure everyone ate in a timely fashion. They needed help.

As Ryv moved deeper into the camp, he paused at the entrance of a ring of medical tents erected to house the wounded. He strode inside and walked the circuit, frowning as he saw the extent of the wounded and how understaffed their healers were. While they had enough bacta to treat many of the wounded, there just weren't enough trained in such matters to properly take care of the growing masses.

With his survey complete, Ryv left the improvised clinic and approached the group of Jedi gathered together on the edge of the camp. Some of the refugees looked on them with mistrust, blaming them for not being able to turn back the Sith's forces and save their home. Others adored the heroes who saved their lives and offered them an escape from the hellhole New Kalandra had become.

"Alright, everyone, gather round," the kiffar cleared his throat and offered the best grin he could muster, given the circumstances. "Sorry I'm late, just did a quick look around to see where we're needed most. As it stands, the clinic is understaffed, and in need of any trained personnel, we can spare. If you've got medical training or any experience in healing, that'll be the play. We're behind on mealtime as well. The younglings are doing their best, but they're kids, and we can't expect them to do all the work. Aside from tha-" he'd stop midsentence as his commlink buzzed to life.

"Ryv, we're having an issue in sector C," a muffled voice reported to the Sword of the Jedi. "Two groups of refugees are preparing for a fight. It looks like a rhodian family may have stolen food and supplies from their neighbors."

"Roger that. Do what you can to keep it from breaking out into a brawl, I'll send someone your way A.S.A.P.," Ryv turned back to the group with a frown. "I need a couple of you on that immediately. Otherwise, let's break into teams and tackle this together."

Auteme | Aaran Tafo | Aldric | Chiara Viren | Quinvee Dogen ​

 

[Elise]

Elise stepped into Peace, pausing to watch as a gathering of SJO personal, from padawans to healers to even financial advisers, disembarked around her. Everyone came with a task in mind-- Some meant to deal with the citizens first hand, while others set off with the authority to oversee and set up incoming arrangements. Elise was here for none of that. She merely wanted to help, in whichever way the Force tugged her.

The refugees' presence on Peace was meant to short-term. SJO was doing everything in its power to arrange for new opportunities for these families. But it was a complicated affair. A political affair.

Elise did not stick her nose too deep into matters, but she was pleased to know that from this destruction, a new sense of unity was forming amongst the Nations they protected.

A Concord, actually. But more on that later.


A set of padawans came running past her, their laughter stalling as the more somber nature of the station filled their senses. She gave them a sad smile, running a hand over shoulders as she pointed left.

There. Go there, she directed. Serving the hungry was just as honorable as fighting back a sith. Both could kill, if left unattended. With that sobering reminder, the younglings went off.

She straightened, strands of her hair falling from her braid. A replenishment of supplies, more bountiful in quantity now that The Concord had had its sway, was unloaded around her. SJO was delivering on their arrangements with TJO. Peace took care of SJO civilians. SJO took care of Peace. With all the tensions as of late, she hoped the gesture spoke loud enough.

Her gaze skimmed upwards, following the picturesque curve of the habitation sphere.

 

[Auteme]

P E A C E
Tag: Ryv | Open!​

---

Just another day on Peace. Watching Ryv feel like he needed to carry it all on his shoulders. He looked terrible. Kinda cute, but mostly terrible. She knew he'd resist any attempt to slow down, and deny offers to lighten his load, but she still wanted him to stay healthy. He'd put so much work into this, he'd done so much already -- couldn't some other Jedi do this work?

She sighed as he finished speaking, assigning people to their tasks. Even in his obviously exhausted state, he had the drive to keep helping. His leadership skills had improved too. The Sword of the Jedi was a title not bestowed lightly, and he'd been doing a great job. Auteme wouldn't stop supporting him, but... she wished he'd take a break every once in a while. Or just get some sleep.

"I'll diffuse the fight," she said calmly, giving a little wave and smile to Ryv. The other Jedi soon declared where they were going and the group began to disperse, but before she left Auteme approached the kiffar, a concerned expression on her face. "I know I can't stop you, but... take a break, please. I'll be going to the clinic afterwards, and I don't want to see you on a cot when I get there, okay?" She paused for a moment before pulling him in for a quick hug. After that, she was off to Sector C.

Hopefully she could actually diffuse the fight...

 

[Chiara Viren]

Wearing | Hair​

She hadn’t been on Kintan, but heard what had happened and was here now, in the aftermath, prepared to take on as many patients as possible. She had, after all, pledged her aid and skill to these Jedi in this sort of capacity and did not take her oaths lightly.

Chiara had several items in experience, training, and ability that gave her a considerable margin within which to accomplish a great deal for the injured and infirm, but in no way did she expect that this was going to be easy, it would be a long day with no shortage of work. Unlike the clinic she usually worked from on Sabarene, there wasn’t a disposal of attendants available to treat sparring wounds, this was going to be an ‘all hands on deck’ scenario.

Knight Ryv looked like the ticking hours had already taken their toll, but he was pressing through, and had the right idea on handling this. Hopefully together, they could accomplish this harrowing task, or at least lighten the load of one another. A valuable experience for all of them, no doubt.

“I’ll be glad to go to your triage, first, and will try to accomplish as much as I can.”

The petite fire-haired Knight turned and began to head in that direction, already making a mental list of what would need to be done first, and a game plan.

Chiara only hoped that they could expect more healers, and that Ilias Nytrau received her message.

Elise | Auteme | Ryv | Quinvee Dogen | Aldric​

 

[Phalsi Drynchen]

Phalsi had spent time marvelling at the station. She had also done some work distributing food and also keeping the peace when neighbors decided that they did not like who was next door. What caught her interest however was the sheer number of kids that were running amok on the station. She had keyed into the stations systems when she arrived with her personal device, monitoring what she could manage on the device such as power to certain sections that she was in or lights and other small things.

Which had her thinking all the while she was working. People were running around in the tunnels. And rumors were abound that they were shifting and said explorers were getting lost. She had been itching for a good laugh anyhow, and what could the harm be in giving people something to be afraid of to avoid getting lost in the wide array of space they now occupied.

The idea cooked for a while, all the while she was creating sub-programs in her device keyed to local light systems and doorways for a touch of fun. But something was missing from the flickering lights and 'randomly' opening or closing doors. Mulling on it for a while longer, it struck her. Feeling scared because of something you couldn't see. Or even feeling something you weren't feeling. The lesson at the force tree stuck out in her mind, Kyra Perl being an empath and able to make others feel what she was feeling.

That would be handy for scaring the pants off people.

With her own cloak in tow, she snagged the spare from her vessel and went off to see if the other was on the station and maybe up for some shenanigans.

Kyra Perl

 

[Kyra Perl]

Kyra was easily found in zone 3, her hands outstretched as she stood between two angry boys.

"S-Stop it! Calm down!" The girl had put herself between the reported fight, much to her great strain and distress. The chaotic tensions on the area did little for her own state of mind, but she took a deep breath, trying to block the foreign emotions out.

"Fight, fight, fight!" The children around them chanted.

"Nooo, we don't fight! We should breath! Um- meditate!" She regurgitated the many masters of Silver Rest's words, despite never being able to take them to heart herself.

"He stole our bread!"
"He punched my mom!"
"He-"

"Whoooa-" A force push nudged a leaping boy back, his fist nearly skimming her ear. "I'm sure he didn't mean toooo, at least he didn't kill her?" Her outstretched hands shook, but she stood her ground.

A spark of pain flashed over the boys face. She knew at once she said the wrong thing.

"No? Okay then. Right." She dodged the incoming hit, moving quick as her training brought her to do.

Phalsi Drynchen Auteme

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Wyatt had been buried in requisition paper work and reports for weeks now, as one of the only administrators of The Jedi Order; only recently inducted under emergency powers at the Grand Master of the Jedi Order to ensure a more refined administration, especially in the wake of millions of refugees brought aboard. He sighed quietly as he readjusted his robes and walked into the hanger Elise and the others had docked in.​

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“Silvers.”, he offered invitingly, with a gentle smile that rolled off his quietly tired expression.​

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“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Jedi Master Wyatt Morga.”, he offered, almost equally as quietly.​

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“Thank you for coming. I’ll be helping to guide you through the station with the help of Aldric here.”, he said with a quick motion the Jedi Master besides him.​

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Wyatt exhaled slow as he turned back -​

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“Is there any questions you might have? I’ll try and be as detailed as possible as we go forward, but I apologize if I miss anything.”​

 

[Auteme]

P E A C E
Tag: Kyra Perl Phalsi Drynchen ​

---

Just another day on Peace... watching the place not quite live up to the name.

Auteme hurried to where the fight was supposedly breaking out, arriving as two boys began punching each other, another padawan -- Kyra? -- trying to get between them and break them up, with little success. She caught a bit of what the girl was trying to say, and clearly it wasn't working. The way Kyra moved made her combat training clear, but the way she spoke was failing horribly. There could always be fighters, but why weren't the Jedi being taught how to diffuse fights peacefully? It seemed that many adhered to the letter of what a Jedi was meant to be, rather than the spirit. It was no fault of Kyra's. The masters were so often cryptic... their lessons buried in their own prejudices and ideals and practices.

She needed to use her head, instead. One boy was a Nikto -- the forehead ridges and small horns around his face marked him as a Kajain'sa'Nikto from the Endless Wastes -- and the other was a Rodian, likely from the immigrant community that had been in New Kalandra. Both were extremely belligerent races; the two young boys were fighting with the same ferocity as the adults of their species. As for the adults, could they be counted on to break this up?

The fighting paused as the two boys broke off from one another for a moment, before suddenly being pulled back by males of their species, likely the boys' parents. For a moment Auteme hoped they might resolve this on their own, but whoever had been reporting to Ryv hadn't been joking. More of each group congregated, some holding pots, pans, and the occasional broom, as the two males began yelling at each other in Huttese. Auteme didn't know the language well -- compared to Arkanian and High Galactic, it sounded like a meat grinder -- but she got the gist of it.

"Your son hit my son. You people need to discipline your children better."

"Please, he was fighting back! That boy of yours is a little monster, I think my son was just teaching him a lesson."

"Apologize, now."

"I'll apologize when you apologize for stealing our food!"

"No one here stole your food, but if we did, it'd be because your 'cooking' tastes like sewage steeped in chit, and we actually know how to cook a meal."

"Take that back, you pile of bantha fodder."

"Make me."

Basically, they were going to fight. And there wasn't much Auteme could do about it... she needed to think.

"Get 'em dad!"

"Knock his teeth in!"

Or maybe she needed to use her heart.

 

[A'Sura Den]

A'Sura and a few Jedi have come to assist the people of Kintan in the aftermath of the catastrophe. to help the refugees who have lost their homes and families, injured, and need help altogether. He learned of the tragedy of Kintan, but he had no idea that there was so much suffering.

There are people struggling to hold their families and care for them without falling apart themselves. As such as a few fighting against each other. The struggle everywhere is real and it is slowly growing more stressful for everyone.
He sought to where his skills would be of use. A walked and excused himself through the large crowd of refugees to a tent to where the injured are being treated. As he got closer, he heard more screaming and cries. "Sooner or later, they will pay for this." He thought to himself while holding a calm expression; not releasing any hate or anger.

He quickly went to the closest person that needed assistance. A woman who was heavily injured. Her body was nearly completely wrapped. He assumed it could have probably fire or burned flesh. But he didn't think too much of it.

A'Sura saw dry tears on the corner of her eyes. She was crying for a long period of time before his arrival. "Do not fret. The pain will slowly disperse." A'Sura first placed his hands on the poor woman's face. "Close your eyes." With the Force, he used Force Healing to heal her face, while slowly lowering his hands to her chin and neck.

There will be a lot more work for him. But he doesn't mind staying for days to help these people.

 

[Phalsi Drynchen]

Phalsi showed up to see two other jedi trying to handle a quickly escalating situation as two large groups gathered. Both sides were of belligerent species, which only made it worse when trying to get them to see eye to eye. Frowning, she went ahead and put herself between the two groups.

"Alright, no need to act like a bunch of spiced up thugs with the need to measure who is bigger. Or is this station to peaceful for everyone? You all want to go back where you are from?" Phalsi cut in, annoyed at the discontent that everyone had for one another. There were padawans like that because they came from everywhere. On the other hand, even padawans went through some emotional training. Civilians however. did not and were more prone to outbursts when they felt like they were slighted.

"They stole food. Wow, someone is hungry. Hmm, if only, I don't know; You were on a station that was handing out food and other supplies." Phalsi began, waving her hands around a bit before handing off the grey green cloak to Kyra. She cut into a different route when she spied the kids. "You all want to make yourselves and that energy useful? Come help us find the lost children. Or can you not look beyond your own to see another mother and father hurting because their child is missing?"

Kyra Perl Auteme

 

[Elise]

Elise smiled to Wyatt and Aldric, nodding a hello. A tour it was, then. It would be nice to see Peace in its full capacity. The work was still rough and going but it had certainly come further since that initial meeting all those moons ago. The presence of the refugees and the supplies SJO sent with them had had their part in the growing construction.

"I'm eager to see how your dream has come to light," she told Wyatt. She glanced over her shoulder at Riamah , the Master accompanying her. "We have no pressing questions-- let's not worry about those formalities today. Please, as friends," she stepped forward, taking his arm to urge him on wards. "Show us your home."

Her aura was undeniable tranquil, a sense of warm comfort to be gleamed from her hand as it patted on top of his.

 

[Kyra Perl]

It seemed none of the padawans were good at subduing crowds.

Kyra slowly slumped as the two boys separated and went to their respective families. But that didn't seem to end the situation there. Then the parents started up. She shot Phalsi Drynchen a grateful look as her sharp words subdued the moment completely.

What would you know, a section time being rough got people to calm down. ...She was taking note.

"Uuuuu, I'm sorry. What? Missing children?" She glanced behind her, towards the dark passageway that seemed to lead on forever. At first she figured it fun to explore. Who knew what kinda adventure waited them in it. But now to hear children were being eaten in it?

...Alright, not eaten. But her imagination was filling in the blanks. She gave Phalsi a wary look.

"...If you try to pants us halfway through..." She knew a incoming prank when she smelt it!

Auteme Phalsi Drynchen

 

[Riamah]

If Elise was the tranquil Jedi, Ra was almost her polar opposite. It wasn't that Ra was an excitable woman or anything, but she just wasn't as good of a Jedi as the others. She choose not to show emotion and kept them buried like a good businesswoman would.

This was her first time here, but she would certainly remember this visit. So far so good. This place looked exceptional and she looked forward to the tour that was offered. Perhaps in time, this would be a location where she could do business. Time would tell though and she didn't get her hopes too high. People, places, items...everything eventually faded away. Even in her own lifetime, Ra had seen the rise and fall of things and there was no going back in time to rebuild or reclaim them.

Meeting the look of the healer, she nodded her agreement and remained silent. That was her way. A silent observer and jumping in only when she needed to. They weren't here for business and that was fine with her.

 

[Aldric]

The recent weeks had been difficult. The refugees had been too much work on the comparatively small number of Jedi on Peace. Had Master Morga not taken charge of the relief efforts' logistics there wouldn't have been a night's worth of sleep for any of the other masters of Peace. Aldric was fortunate enough to catch two hours or so of sleep and meditation before today, so he appeared moderately presentable in the spacer-jedi robe blend he wore. The metal mask he wore on the lower half of his face still felt uncomfortable. With the number of refugees unable to communicate in galactic basic sign language, however, there had been an unspoken obligation to wear it whenever he left his quarters.

He nodded in greeting as Master Morga introduced him to the newcomers on Peace. It was always nice to see other Jedi, let alone other souls who were inclined to show compassion. The more he had travelled around the galaxy the more he had realized just how much of a rarity a friendly face could be.

"A pursuit of knowledge shouldn't be forsaken simply because it might fall under formalities. We welcome any questions in the spirit of mutual understanding." he offered, his coarse voice amplified by the vocoder in his breath mask.

He'd grown accustomed to the unpleasant hoarseness that his vocal cords produced over the last few days. Pragmatism had won out over any self-conscious anxiety over his voice. Though he still felt uneasy around other people, the crash course in being social that Peace had turned into was proving to be more manageable than he'd initially anticipated.

It only dawned on him now how many new faces were flooding in with the Silvers. Underneath his mask, his expression contorted into a nervous smile as he watched the other masters. People weren't his forte.

Wyatt Morga Riamah Elise

 

[Merrick Sato]

"Stalwart, I will stand, until mountains turn to sand."

​

That was her, getting right down to business. Chiara Viren's work ethic was nothing less than inspiring, and the months they had spent working together thus far, throwing their lot in with the greater movement of Jedi and on the side of the downtrodden, was a boon to his transition from the idyllic Naboo life that was, and the erstwhile love that left his heart shattered, to being a Jedi in more than just name and the lineage of his training. Merrick watched his fire-maned counterpart go for a scant moment, then set his attention to finding what he could do to help. She didn't need him to stand watch; this wasn't a warzone, but the aftermath of one. If only they could have been there.

While he could alter perceptions of physical pain, he couldn't ease or disperse it like she and other Jedi could, but there were other ways he could mend hurts, or ease worries, even though that was only one of many potential result of his doing what he was trained to do. Having seen three padawans head in the direction of a brewing situation in Sector C, Merrick followed suit, taking off after them at a far less urgent pace than he might have otherwise, because padawans could be very capable, and he remembered being grateful for getting the chance to prove he was capable at that stage. Though he wasn't going with the thought that they'd need help, he got the distinct feeling that there was more going on than thievery. There were too many potential issues with this many different peoples and this big a place, outside of the shortage of helping hands.

Seeing the tension brought down when he arrived, and overhearing the words Phalsi Drynchen used on his approach, both made him look on, appreciably, and swallow a laugh. They were hard words, but this didn't seem the kind of crowd that could be gotten through to with kinder words or more subtle methods. After a brief assessment of the situation as it was now, he glanced, too, towards the shadowed passage, as Kyra Perl did, only his gaze stayed there when she looked away, his eyes narrowing in thought. He didn't know any of their names, not even Auteme .

"Do the parents," he started, not looking back at the three. "have anything belonging to the missing children that we could borrow to help track them down?"

They could be anywhere on the sphere. Peace was massive, and these corridors could branch off and get anyone very, very lost. Merrick turned back to the three, to explain.

"Residual presence: it clings to belongings, and it's easier to track a specific individual if you have a reference."

​

 

[Kyra Perl]

Kyra perked at the newest person's words, her eyes alight. "Oh! I know that one! It's like-- when you touch something and see memories, right?" The excited burst cut through the conversation.

It wasn't often Kyra knew a trick that others may not.

"Psycho- Psycho-..Pscyhomeretryeye..." She stumbled over the word, her brows pulling in. Soclose.

 

[Phalsi Drynchen]

"I wouldn't try to pants you halfway through. I'm not that mean." Your to useful for that Phalsi thought quietly as she turned to the new person. The idea of tracking with a personal effect was refreshing, and it would certainly give them a far better idea of where the kiddos were than just, aimlessly wandering the corridors. Phalsi wondered about her shenanigans now however, likely having to branch off when they did start looking to stir up the trouble she had planned.

"Psychoscopy?" Phalsi blurted. It was something she had seen on holonet, but had never actually thought anyone capable of. Something that was quickly being remedied with all the strange things she had encountered thus far as a Padawan with this order. An empath, a force tree. What next? A talking bantha? "I am sure they have something..."

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Wyatt made a noise in his throat of acknowledgment before walking along. The hangers were most often situated on the rings that surrounded the station, so they piled into one of the smaller cargo lifts, as it took them the many meters down to the planet’s surface. He glanced to Elise and her guest as it began its slow trek down -​

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“So, I’ve been meaning to follow up since the original meeting the Orders had.”​

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He readjusted his sleeves as he spoke, “Now that Kintan is settled, and the war effort will likely be turned back around on the Sith, what are the Silver’s intentions with the Jedi Order now?”​

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As little more than the repulsor lifts of the elevator carried them down, there wasn’t much else to speak of yet; nor was there a tour to give on the cramped space - so the next best question was simple and straight forward.​

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Elise │ Riamah │ Aldric​