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]

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.