Laphisto
High Commander of the Lilaste Order
"Truth be told, I was fully devoted to the life of a Jedi," he said, offering a soft chuckle as he gave his armor a final brush. "Back then, my biggest dream was to bring peace to the galaxy... maybe even earn a seat on the High Council someday." He shook his head at the thought, a low rumble escaping his throat amusement touched by age. "Funny how distant those goals feel now." His gaze drifted toward the large structure ahead, eyes narrowing slightly behind the visor.
"As for the library... that'd be the hope. We recovered a few intact texts during the first expedition. Enough to build a translation codex that most of our droids can use. If anything survived in there, it might still be readable assuming time and frost didn't take it first." Laphisto took a few steps forward, his feet crunching softly against the cracked stone beneath them. His eyes scanned the silent streets and hollow buildings lining their path.
It wasn't just ruins to him. He could almost see it the way it once was. Crowded markets. Children weaving between merchants. Guards standing post beneath colorful banners. The scent of warm food. The hum of conversation. It clung to the edges of his memory - or more so the memory of the gods, and maybe even the kiev'arian he had consumed last time he was here - like smoke from a long-extinguished fire. There was something... alluring in the quiet. Not peaceful. But hauntingly familiar. "Hard not to picture it alive again," he murmured, more to himself than to her. And then, with a quiet exhale, he kept walking.
Iandre Athlea
"As for the library... that'd be the hope. We recovered a few intact texts during the first expedition. Enough to build a translation codex that most of our droids can use. If anything survived in there, it might still be readable assuming time and frost didn't take it first." Laphisto took a few steps forward, his feet crunching softly against the cracked stone beneath them. His eyes scanned the silent streets and hollow buildings lining their path.
It wasn't just ruins to him. He could almost see it the way it once was. Crowded markets. Children weaving between merchants. Guards standing post beneath colorful banners. The scent of warm food. The hum of conversation. It clung to the edges of his memory - or more so the memory of the gods, and maybe even the kiev'arian he had consumed last time he was here - like smoke from a long-extinguished fire. There was something... alluring in the quiet. Not peaceful. But hauntingly familiar. "Hard not to picture it alive again," he murmured, more to himself than to her. And then, with a quiet exhale, he kept walking.
