Open Flashpoint Dantooine Disinterested Sympathy

[Ao]

Ao missed the Archives of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant terribly. So much so in fact that she had taken to spending most of her days in the past few weeks meditating in the hopes that she would somehow rediscover the ancestral Similfuturus technique and manage to project herself there in the form of an illusory doppelgänger, therefore bypassing the ban put in place by the Supreme Chancellor of the New Republic.

Although most of the data tapes, holobooks, and holocrons that had been stored in what had long served as the greatest repository of knowledge in the galaxy had managed to be salvaged by the Council of First Knowledge, choices had to be made and Ao did not agree with the Caretaker on what could be considered "information-of-primordial-importance-worth-preserving-above-all-else-given-the-very-limited-time".

Hoping to stir the Padawan away from her pointless reveries, some master had ordered her to travel to Dantooine and contribute to the relief efforts the Order was conducting on the war-ravaged planet. It had not taken long for Ao to devise that she, along with other Padawans and Jedi Knights, had been sent on some sort of PR operation with the goal of helping restore some of the reputation of the Jedi Order as a force for righteousness in the galaxy; something that seemed entirely not worth her time. Clearly, it was not her fault that blithering idiots had ridiculed them on the galactic scale on Kashyyyk.

Nevertheless, Ao had agreed to contribute to the noble endeavor out of the goodness of her heart, and perhaps too because she might snag some tricks on how to perform the more advanced healing techniques that were not taught to apprentices from her more experienced brethren.

A makeshift medcenter had been established in the central plaza of Dantoo Town and the Padawans were expected to help triage the victims of the violent confrontations between Sith loyalists and the members of a fledgling resistance movement. Seemingly undisguisable, they were all converging on the field hospital seeking help ranging from simple wound dressing for superficial lesions to lifesaving bacta immersions.

Bored out of her mind, Ao was running through the motions mechanically, welcoming the refugees with a lifeless smile. All her senses were on alert in case a more intriguing opportunity presented itself...

 

[Asena Zeev]

This wasn't exactly the mission Asena had in mind. Sure, she wanted to get away from the Temple but she was hoping for something better. Something more...exciting. Instead, all she found were masses of refugees, displaced during yet another conflict. To make matters worse, many were injured. Dozens, if not hundreds, were flocking towards the medcentre, all desperate for help, some too weak to even speak. Asena would be lying if she said she wasn't haunted by their visage. Scared, betrayed faces stared at her, with some eyes made vacant from the terrors of battle. They sought for something that had been lost. They sought peace. They sought hope.

It made the padawan uncomfortably frustrated. Asena was a huntress, not a healer. Care and comfort were definitely not her speciality. Then again, knowing the masters, maybe that is why they recommended this mission; to learn that there was more to being a Jedi than swinging around sabers and charging into a fight.

It made the Nautolan sigh. Her heart went out to these people, truly it did but wouldn't it better to fight evil at its source? The Jedi and their reputation was less than flattering, but their duty was to bring balance to the force, not pick up the galaxy's shattered pieces. How many more innocent people would suffer at the hands of the Sith and their followers?

"Tch...it never ends, does it?" She hadn't meant for the mutter to be heard but her expression certainly said enough.

Unlike her companions, Asena offered no smile; it was too toothy, what with all the fangs and such. Instead, she offered something more practical. Having numerous scars herself, the padawan was more than familiar with how to bandage and stitch. Less critical injuries came to her, gashes and cuts in need of dressing; blood did little to deter her and as soon as one patient left, another came to take their place. Children were the worst to treat; their tears and crying so raw and tender. It reminded Asena of her own family and the young siblings she had left behind.

She began to sing, softly at first, more to her young patient than anyone else, but others were welcome to listen if they too needed a little comfort. It was an old song, and in her Nautolan tongue, it may sound a little strange. Still, it was the best Asena could muster "A naeoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth..."

@Aberforth