First Reply What Surviving Looks Like [Open to Jedi Masters or GA medical!]

[Pinacia Stark]

Planet: Tython
Location: Jedi Temple

IT became evident - first in a tiny corner of her mind, and then blossoming out like a virus - that Ms. Stark had been called here for a reason.

Here was the newly-christened Jedi Temple of Tython, safely squared away in the hills and valleys of this fruitful planet, its hallways and gardens abuzz with new life as scores of Jedi made the journey from Coruscant.

As she walked with trepidation through the gleaming temple, she thought of her own tiny little kiosk set up a dozen meters away on the slopes. She had stashed what few belongings she had into a bag and brought it aboard the first flight out of the Core - and now that bag lay discarded somewhere in a flimsy little corner, waiting for her to unpack.

There was no point to settling planetside, she had been told, because the Navy would have her brought up to orbit within a day. From there she would begin the most basic training required for service within the GA’s naval forces.


There was a tiny little matter - the Colonel had muttered something about a psychiatric eval, and “deeming you fit” and then coughed as he handed her the paperwork to fly down.

She considered herself, privately, to be in great shape; not too narrow, but not overweight, either, and it was true that she felt at least a little excitement about running around a giant cruiser, helping to map out new hyperlanes as the Alliance scrambled to deal with the cataclysmic changes that had just been thrust upon the edges of their stars.


So, it stood only to reason - that the problem lay, perhaps, in her background.

In her mind.

Dr. Stark smoothed the dark blue hair that framed her round face and opened the door to the medical bay that she had been directed to by a Jedi guard.

Inside, the - perhaps it was an office, or a chamber - was so clean the floors were like a mirror. In the Jedi way, it was devoid of clutter or personal touches - at least for now. The Jedi had only settled mere days ago, and she could hear a couple of them laughing to one another as they gripped a fountain of some sort and walked it further down the hallway.

Then the door closed shut, and she was left alone again, in this quiet, minimalist chamber. With only her thoughts again.

She folded one arm around the other behind her back and moved softly from the door. Her off-duty scrubs swished with the patient roll of her hips.

She stopped by a very square, very small window.

The only window in the room.

She took a deep breath, and blinked once, and waited.

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Combat Jumpsuit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

The soft sound of boots echoed gently against polished stone as Valery rounded the corner of the hall. Her dark hair swayed slightly with each step, the quiet strength in her stride mirrored in the calm, watchful set of her gaze. Amid the steady buzz of activity within the newly settled Jedi Temple, it didn't take long for her to notice the anomaly.

Someone was here who wasn't Jedi.

Not a student. Not a Knight. Someone who didn't move like she'd spent a lifetime under the weight of the Code or the hum of a lightsaber. And that alone was enough for Valery to investigate. She paused at the threshold of the chamber, amber eyes settling on the woman by the window. Her navy-blue hair, the slightly restless set of her posture, the uniform that wasn't military, nor Jedi. Valery tilted her head slightly, curious — but not unkind.

"Didn't expect to find someone without a lightsaber in this wing," she said gently, voice carrying that familiar low strength, tempered with warmth. She stepped into the room fully, hands resting loosely at her sides.

"I'm Valery Noble," she offered after a pause, her tone even but not too formal. "I'm the Grandmaster here. And you… don't look like one of my Jedi." There was no accusation in her voice — only interest. A soft glint of amusement flickered in her eyes.

She glanced to the window, then back. "So. What brings you to Tython?"

Pinacia Stark ​

 

[Pinacia Stark]

Pinacia was still waiting by the window when the door opened. She turned her feet in the direction of the entrance, her hands folded behind her in a moment of introspection.

The woman that entered had long dark hair that swept down past her hips, and she wore a near-black suit that snapped to her abdomen and stretched all the way up, almost to her jaw. At once, she was the picture of lithe precision.

Pinacia's lips turned upward briefly in a smile that contained only the right amount of politeness needed for a social interaction. Then she heard the woman introduce herself as the Grandmaster of the Temple here.

Her lips turned downward in first confusion, and then slight embarrassment.

After a second of internal logic - the Jedi would not squander their Grandmaster on a simple evaluation, especially not when they were just getting settled - she blinked and turned to leave the room.

"I am not one of yours," she agreed with a polite nod. "I have the wrong room." It was a statement of confidence, not a question. "My apologies, Grandmaster. I was sent in to be…evaluated…orders from up above. But, clearly I need to find another Jedi. Should I just go back down the way I came in…or?"

She hesitated. Her blue fingers rested on the handle of the door.

Her eyes looked into the flame-like eyes of this Valery Noble, perhaps asking her to direct her elsewhere.

Valery Noble