- Joined
- Mar 2, 2018
- Messages
- 182
- Reaction score
- 174
It was a miracle her personal ship was still in working condition. Being submerged in the clear waters of Ifrane, it only required minor tweaking for flight. Although, there were several occasions of near death, either due to an engine unexpectedly snap or a few broken controls here and there, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She was lucky to have reached the Jedi fleet and the Brighthome temple in time before the ship burst into flames, and in time before Wyck left for the end.
Steering into the space station’s hangar, disregarding her designated landing point, Imani leapt from the cockpit. Dressed head to toe in her old Jedi robes, now worn after the many battles and wrinkled from a later lack of use, she streamlined to the temple’s war chambers. As she did, many other members of the Order, maintenance or full-fledged Knights, were surprised to see her alive and well. Since her departure, most believed she was either dead, dying or long lost her faith in the Jedi. All of which they would come to find was untrue. Imani was ready, she was willing, and she wanted to speak to Wyck.
An unoccupied lift immediately shot her to her destination, where she was greeted by another fresh set of shocked faces. She brushed them aside, along with their questions or concerns, and this time made her way to the center of the war room. There, behind the looming hologram of a planet that resembled Coruscant, she caught the perked ears and bulbous green head of none other than her old master. The young Jedi Master screeched to a halt. And with locked eyes and a gentle call, she flagged down the clearly busy Grandmaster. No matter what he was doing, they had to talk.
“Master Wyck.” Her voice reverberated in the bridge. That should get his attention.
@Malon
Steering into the space station’s hangar, disregarding her designated landing point, Imani leapt from the cockpit. Dressed head to toe in her old Jedi robes, now worn after the many battles and wrinkled from a later lack of use, she streamlined to the temple’s war chambers. As she did, many other members of the Order, maintenance or full-fledged Knights, were surprised to see her alive and well. Since her departure, most believed she was either dead, dying or long lost her faith in the Jedi. All of which they would come to find was untrue. Imani was ready, she was willing, and she wanted to speak to Wyck.
An unoccupied lift immediately shot her to her destination, where she was greeted by another fresh set of shocked faces. She brushed them aside, along with their questions or concerns, and this time made her way to the center of the war room. There, behind the looming hologram of a planet that resembled Coruscant, she caught the perked ears and bulbous green head of none other than her old master. The young Jedi Master screeched to a halt. And with locked eyes and a gentle call, she flagged down the clearly busy Grandmaster. No matter what he was doing, they had to talk.
“Master Wyck.” Her voice reverberated in the bridge. That should get his attention.
@Malon