video | un: orren

[orren]

[The video feeds open on a human man. His features are sharp and regal, but there's no haughtiness or hostility to them. His long hair flows down well past his shoulders, and a well-groomed beard highlights the lines of his jaw ... but more than any of that, what will jump out immediately is that he's in rough shape.

[His cheeks are sunken, his skin looks pale, and there are dark rings under his eyes. There are a few fresh cuts on his face, including one that runs along his cheekbone that's highlighted by a purpling bruise.

[He's smiling though. It's a tired smile, one that clearly takes a bit of effort at the moment, but a smile nonetheless.]

Hello to anyone who might be listening. My name is Orren Organa - of the Jedi Order, should that mean anything to any you. From what I understand of our current situation, though, I understand that it might not.

[He sighs and tucks an errant lock of hair behind his ear.]

That same situation is why I'm putting out this call. The Head's information was ... helpful, but vague enough that I'm left with some questions about this place. I'd appreciate whatever insight that anyone who's been here longer can offer, and ... that's about it, really.

[A beat.]

Apologies for my appearance as well. I was in a bit of a rough spot before I was pulled here, but I'm quite alright.

[Or, at the very least, he will be. His connection to the Force is still as strong here as ever, and he can already feel it working to repair the damage to his body.]

Comments

[orren]

[Orren's smile falters and the brief moment of relief is gone as quickly as it came. He doesn't know what to make of it, and for just a second his silver tongue turns to lead.

[Ever since the Council had explained their plan to Orren, this very moment - where Revan embraces the name and identity that used to be hers was his worst fear. It was the nightmare scenario, and it's hard not to feel a rush of anxiety when confronted with it. But ... again ... she feels like the woman she was before Saul Karath had revealed the truth. He didn't sense any overwhelming darkness within her.

[He didn't sense Darth Revan.

[It's possible that she could conceal that, given the extent of her power, but ... why would she? If she was the Dark Lord of the Sith again - if her anger and desire for vengeance was so strong that she'd fallen all over again - what did she have to fear from him?

[He hesitates for a moment, before finally speaking.]

I'm sorry ... I didn't know whether or not you'd want to be called that.

[If that was the case ... then so be it. But she's right. No matter how much he's been dreading it, this conversation needs to happen.]

[therevanchist]

[Revan takes a deep breath that's not the result of her sprint. She is not going to yell at Orren.

Well, probably.]

Were you in on it?

[The question almost has a pleading note to it. As much as she wants a target for her ire, she doesn't truly want it to be Orren. His involvement strikes her as unlikely, against everything he's ever shown her about himself, but even the slight possibility tugs at her, turning her stomach, souring what should be a happy moment.

Revan can understand how her past self fell, really. The dark side will seep into any crevice, freezing and cracking a soul like winter's ice. She can feel it trying now. The Mandalorian Wars must have provided it so many opportunities.]

[orren]

[In this moment, he'd have preferred the yelling. Whatever abuse she might have hurled at him, it would have hurt less than hearing that note of pleading in her voice and seeing the pain written on the face of an old friend.

[He felt it, too. That little sliver of cold, emptiness, and despair working its way into her heart. It scared him. Dragged up unbidden memories of the past and set a little shiver of fear running through him. It nearly froze him for a moment, but he quickly pushed them aside.

[Right now, she needed him. She needed the help he hadn't been able to give her the first time around and fear had kept him from doing that for long enough already.

[He shook his head.]

No. Seeing you on Dantooine was the first time I had any idea what the council had done.

[therevanchist]

[Revan's shoulders slump as the tension she hadn't realized was there drains away. What would she have done if he'd said yes?]

Orren, I-- [She stops and shakes her head.] Let's not have this conversation standing in the street.

[She takes the last few steps up to him and, standing in the street or no, pulls him into an embrace. Going on tiptoes puts her mouth reasonably close to his ear, so she can speak without fear of being overheard.]

Thank you.

[orren]

[He doesn't know. He doesn't want to know.

[Orren tenses up a little at the sudden embrace. Not because he expects her to do anything to him, but because ... well ... it's been a good, long while since he's had any unconditional affection. He doesn't know what to do with it at first. His shoulders tense, his arms hang awkwardly about their sides ... and then she thanks him.

[She thanks him, and all that tension drains away. He embraces her. Leans over, almost onto her to pull her closer.]

You're welcome.

[His throat is painfully tight, and his voice betrays that.]

I'm not sure that I deserve it, considering how much I kept from you ... but you're welcome.

[When he pulls back there's a little moisture gathering around the corners his eyes, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand.]

You're right, though. Let's ... let's find somewhere else to discuss all this.

[therevanchist]

[It's been a rough time for all of them, even if Revan doesn't remember most of it.

She looks around and spots a cafe, conveniently indicated by a sign featuring a steaming mug and some kind of pastry. Midafternoon, they should have their pick of tables.]

C'mon. [She tugs Orren's arm, starting towards the little restaurant.] Caf and carbohydrates.

[orren]

That ... that sounds good.

[There's a hint of a chuckle in his voice, though even he couldn't tell you whether it was relief or anxiety pushing it out of him.

[In either case, Orren allows himself to be pulled along towards the cafe without any sort of resistance. He'd been Malak's captive for several days - something that's left him very tired and very hungry, and something he'd prefer to remedy before they delve into the conversation ahead of them.

[It takes him a minute or two to parse through the unfamiliar names on the menu board and figure out his order, but it's predictably simple: a hot tea that the barista assured him was caffeinated and a pair of savory pastries to fill his stomach.

[Nearly all the tables in the cafe were empty, just as Revan had thought, but Orren still picks a booth off in a quiet corner to give them some semblance of privacy. Once they're settled in there ... well, it's fairly clear that whatever relief Orren had been feeling has evaporated. It isn't quite walking-on-eggshells-anxiety, though there is a bit of that written on his face and in his presence in the Force, but it's obvious that he's harboring a great deal of guilt.

[He takes a bite of his pastry and stares pensively into his tea as he chews, watching the steam rise. Eventually, he looks up and meets her eye.]

What do you want to know? [He asks.]I can't promise that I'll have all the answers that you're looking for, but I'll tell you all that I know. You have my word on that.

[therevanchist]

[Revan, meanwhile, has some kind of cream-covered abomination that must be at least half sugar by volume...and that's just the drink. She stabs it with the straw a few times, mixing in some of the whipped cream and taking out some of her frustrations simultaneously.]

I don't know where to start. I don't suppose they told you what the hell they were thinking.

[She can feel his trepidation through the Force, and frankly, she doesn't feel up to doing the work it would take to reassure him. "It's okay" would be a lie, anyway, and they both know it.]

[orren]

[Orren shakes his head.]

Not until I confronted them after seeing you on Dantooine.

[She'll probably have some memory of that. She wasn't there for his audience with the council, but she saw him storming out in the aftermath.]

Before that, all I knew was that they were assembling a strike team to go after you. I don't know if this was their plan from the start, but ...

[He pauses for a moment, drawing in a deep breath before letting it out through his nose in a short sigh.]

I didn't look too closely, didn't press for specifics ... I decided to stay away from it. That it was best that I didn't get involved. In hindsight, all that did was remove an obstacle from their path.

[therevanchist]

I remember the strike team.

[Revan's eyes go distant as she replays one of the only scraps of memory she has.]

...I was winning.

[Rather than Revan's usual smugness about victory, she just sounds haunted. If the fight had gone on a little longer, she'd have killed Bastila.]

[orren]

I'd be surprised if you weren't.

[Orren admits with a small shake of his head.]

At the height of your power, you were the most powerful Jedi alive by a very wide margin. There weren't many people who could have challenged you before the war, and by that point most of them were either dead, converted, or in no condition to fight.