- Joined
- May 29, 2014
- Messages
- 703
- Reaction score
- 124
_THE SOV GALACTIC EVOLUTION_
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general personnel barracks 10:15AM
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general personnel barracks 10:15AM
__Men and women walked the main steel corridor. Some from breakfast. Others to training. Whether they worked here, maintaining this behemoth, or they were guests of its welcoming halls, taking shelter for a time, they moved with brisk and vivacity. Often in pairs they went, hands rolling in direction to relay a point in conversation; toiling the soil of life and its rough patches and trivialities, infinitesimal in the grand purpose this ship represented. Filling out this paperwork has caused her a headache. Or getting this plan a proper presentation to be implemented has strained friendly relations for him. And above it all weighs the threat of the Imperium somewhere off in the distance beyond all those stars.
But tucked away in a forked hallway to the catacomb dorms' entryway to non-vip personnel, sitting on a black cushioned twin bench underneath a small viewport portal in plain sight, lazed one invisibly lonesome Cappi Tremaine.
Black sweatshirt hood over bunned head, his glazed eyes drifted from star to star; waiting for one to inevitably fall but never did. Elbow propped onto the chromed impression around the circular portal, his finger gently and obsessively traced over the recently unwrapped month old scar over his left temple; fuzzy and protruding. Occasionally his brow twitched frustratedly when he realized he'd lost his train of thought again and couldn't remember how long it'd been since he'd lost it. It still felt a little sore. And in those moments he'd catch his reflection and see the bags under his deprived eyes, sleepless nights still a lingering symptom of head trauma, and he'd sigh.
White earbuds playing the tragic melody of nature's beauty, slowly drawn wind instruments flowing through birds' flitting chirps and a horse's warm nickering, as Cappi stared into the vacuum of space was a jocular suggestion taken from one of his physical therapists; a suggestion he had come to loath yet continued to ritually revisit in his solidarity. Usually it embraced his thoughts swarming around the memory of Knight Anrdreas. A bitter taste coming from its mention, yet somehow desired again and again in its wonder. Cappi questioned what had become of him and why Cappi'd been spared by a Sith, his sabers even kept in perfect condition in travel with him; returned from the field by his side.
His time back home with Pops and Zia on Nar Shaddaa hadn't granted him any peace of mind. Yet now that he was here, back with his brethren, he was even less motivated to rejoin their activities; the daily routine of rehabilitation and its many checklists aside. He often felt like a droid, noting his similarly slouched and bony posture next to a protocol assistant in the medical offices during his check-ups. Between bacta naps, healing circles, removing and replacing stitching he was losing touch with the everyday challenges that made life enjoyable. Just getting up on his feet every morning was a fight.
Events had left him with so much to question. Yet even in this difficulty he felt more a part of this family then ever before. Pops and Zia somehow felt farther away. He wasn't as angry as when he learned Mancer was murdered after he'd caused those hostages' deaths. This was where he belonged. These were the people of hope for the galaxy. Just not for his personal peace. At least not yet.
There was so much he had to think about. He owed his life in part to Andreas, who taught him in an instant that not killing for the sake of not killing was un-Jedi like in itself despite what he thought he knew. At least it was incorrect to pose moral questions so absolutely. Just as it was to judge the Sith so starkly. Just as it is to judge himself.
But where did that leave him?
@Benvenu7