>>5676966>>5676977>>5676984>Rolled a 7, 8.>Factoring in Sia-Lann, a Jedi with a modicum of talent in Force Healing…>Factoring in Master Larid’s medical droid aboard the Bantha…>Bringing B-33 allowed you to take a recording of your duel…>…you survive the strange poison, if only just barely.>>Meanwhile, in an emergency joint MSDF High Command/Triumvirate meeting…“…and then Master Farren started bleeding from almost everywhere.” Ceyla’s voice was uneven, hitching at every other word as she recounted what had happened to her master. “…nose, mouth, ears, eyes…every breath he tried to take, there was just this horrible, choking noise…”
She couldn’t bring herself to finish. The young miraluka was on the brink of tears, and through the Force, her fear and distress radiated as bright as pulsar stars. Her crewmates, a Clone and a Nagai, offered what solidarity they could, patting her shoulder and offering soft words of encouragement. But Ceyla’s emotions went beyond what they could provide in front of the assorted committee of Jedi and military officials.
At one time, she might have been chastised for failing to maintain an emotional center, if not a presentable façade. Whether or not her master perished from the poison would be ultimately in the hands of the Force. And if he died, then it was permittable to mourn, but not to linger on his passing.
That’s what Grand Master Yoda might have said, but none of the sitting Jedi on the Triumvirate would have thrown those words out as “consolation”. Even if Ceyla’s master hadn’t been the son of a person they held dear in their hearts, none of them were nearly that dispassionate or dispensary with those kinds of insensitive platitudes.
Brethon Larid exhaled heavily, clearing his throat to get the attention of the room. “…thank you, Ceyla. You can go now.”
Ceyla had been the last of the Albatross crewmembers to be debriefed. As one, they bowed respectfully to the assembly, and quietly withdrew from the meeting hall. Doubtless to visit her master as Farren fought for his life in a bacta tank.
Masters Aure and Kosa were equally concerned, but Larid's guts had twisted themselves into knots, and a fist seemed to be clenching at his heart. In the thirteen years of his apprenticeship beneath the Shadow, Farren had never come so close to death as he had now. That didn't mean that they suffered injuries - their line of work thrust them into peril and danger at almost every turn and passing.
But it seemed that every time Farren set off from Amagi on a mission or adventure, death aggressively courted his old apprentice. As if that, after becoming a Jedi Knight, there had been some sort of protection that had been revoked. And even with the rise of the Empire and the triumph of the Sith, the galaxy was trying to compensate by throwing the worst it had to offer.
The Revenant and Storyteller.
The Force Entity Jombaral.
The Jedi Conclave.
(cont.)
