What of it?

[Tyberius Fel]

Vorian gritted his teeth in frustration whilst perched in meditation upon a circular rock upon the wind swept plains and swaying grasses of Yutan. A gentle planet he supposed, a shame it is spoiled by the incompetence of the conclave. Normally, Vorian was a quiet, scholarly type of Jedi, more prone to quiet contemplation before action --.. but the knowledge that trillions upon trillions of galactic inhabitants writhed underneath the durasteel fist of the Sith sparked a burning flame within him. The farce of a Jedi Council had proved itself more than apt at the task of endlessly squabbling among one another over who would sit in a glorified seat, whilst people toiled and died enslaved upon Coruscant. It was wholly a thing of utter and complete madness, something that sickened him so thoroughly that he could no longer bare to remain within the 'conclave.' For now, he calmed himself by exercising his mind and focus by continuously utilizing telekinesis to lift and drop various surrounding boulders. Meanwhile Leto, his Arkanian Eagle, perched upon a low hanging branch and focused it's avian eyes on it's master with as much concern as a bird could muster.

Madness! To think, the Sith had more effective leadership than the Jedi! When the Dark Lord hollered out to his followers to kill and destroy wantonly, at least they followed without question. It was a thing of little longer how they rose from obscurity to dominating the literal center of the galaxy. Perhaps if the Sith possessed a leader that was willing to attach collars to his hounds..

At this moment, the well-honed senses of the Arkanian's genetically engineered body perceived the distinctive snap of a branch not too far behind him. Whirling about, Vorian turned his milkglass gaze onto the imposing figure of a familiar face...

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

[Placeholder 04]

Cyril was a worry wort. He was constantly stressing over how his friends and students might have been doing. It was the parent in him; always hoping for his cohorts to succeed and dotting over them as if they were his own children. He made a mental note to try and put a stop to it as he set out to do just that.

Vorian's behavior at the conclave was less than savory. His wants and desires made perfect sense, but the Jedi Master was having trouble justifying the Arkanian's actions. Perhaps it's just stress, he told himself. With a furrowed brow, he made off down the path he'd seen Vorian storm down upon his rather dramatic exit. There was a kernel of the bogan in the boy, whether he knew it or not, believed it or not, did not matter.

Cyril saw it, and it was his duty to quell it. More importantly, his friend was distressed, and he wanted nothing more than to bring Vorian some peace.

He came into Vorian's private realm with his cowl drawn over his features. Two foam cups of caf steamed in either of his hands.

"Calm down," he smiled, "I'm not here to bite you." Cyril strolled over to his friend and offered him a cup. "Figured we could talk."

[member="Vorian Adasca"]