Kiskla Grayson-Matteo
Redeemer
Protectorate Space - Outskirts of Liberty Concord Camp
Kiskla was tolerant to a point. She had been patient through the wan smiles, the semi-flirtatious quips and the outbursts against Padawans. The reaction during the invasion of Coruscant however, was what sent the blonde Master of the Order over the edge.
She had been a good girl, kept her simmering anger beneath the surface when meeting with the Silver Jedi (okay, maybe she'd screamed into her pillow for a very long time), she had been patient when people groaned at The Council and their inaction. That is why she had taken action, and had been working to make allies across the galaxy. As councillor of reconciliation, she was doing her job.
Unfortunately for her, a bruised ego was going to be her undoing. But it was no ego of her own that had crawled beneath her skin; it was the ego of the former Grandmaster. He had the audacity to crawl into The Jedi temple while his brothers and sisters were slain beneath the Sith's oppression, and hadn't lifted a finger. Thankfully, all of the archives had been backed by master Alince as an archiving precaution long ago. What was he doing, anyways?
Now, she was in Protectorate territory, navigated to meet Joshua on his terms. She had been wary of him for some time, but her patience was finite and her armour needed to be tested out. She had borrowed a jetpack from the Republic's resources, and had perched herself pleasantly on a ledge overlooking the area that the Liberty Concord seemed to frequent for training rituals. She was a curious individual, and had intercepted his note on the Grandmaster's desk -- an area she was privy to as his right hand. Through psychometery, and some cyber assistance from a sourced sentinel, she had pinpointed this location for a chat with [member="Joshua DragonsFlame"].
Giddily, her long legs swung as they hung over her perch. A light breeze picked up through the temperate atmosphere, brushing her hair as she rested a hand on her helm. Light eyes were peeled for the ever-familiar form of the former councillor. Idly, she wondered if his pet dragon had glittered talons yet. Or if it had turned, or if it was of any use at all.