Log:Resistance: Icon Immortal Pt 1
Icon Immortal
OOC Date: July 28, 2019
Location: Naboo
Participants: Ambrosia Greystorm, Leia Organa, Tallissan Lintra, Merek, Callax Dalso, Calevaro, Lofty, Aryn Cole, The Resistance
Theed University is the primary source of high academics in the city of Theed on the planet Naboo. The University of Theed was constructed around the time of the city's founding circa 832 BBY. Located near the Royal Palace, the university has served the citizens of Theed for centuries, producing well-educated individuals to work as politicians, legislators, lawyers and with a specialization in political science, civics, and law. In addition, the university is responsible for educating many a reputable artists, activists, engineers, and scientists. A large building built in the style of the rest of Theed with sandstone hued walls and an aquamarine domed roof. Art is on display in every corner of the massive building, its foyer is huge and would fool the average person into believing its a museum. Individual classrooms line the many floors of the university and are instructed by the finest teachers in this part of the galaxy.
[Ambrosia Greystorm]
Before one even makes it through the growing line of mourners and well-wishers to the inner sanctum of Theed University, they can glimpse a bit of what awaits them after...out here. Long tables are set with blue and yellow linen, floral centerpieces, and more importantly: Food.
Platters upon trays upon bowls and bejeweled tins of catered edibles fill each table from end to end. Servers stand at the ready to portion out modest bites to those emerging from the archway dubbed 'exit'.
For savory: roast gornt, mashed kajaka root, boiled fish, gourd soup, honeyed loaf, fungibread, and hearty stews are dished up in small, shallow bowls. For sweet: Decorated air cakes, quinberry tarts, citros snow-cake, and a small selection of puddings. Trays of miscellaneous fruits are interspersed throughout, as are small, iced casks of water. Blossom wine, among other refreshments, are served separately and in small enough vessels that it's clear this isn't meant to be an all-you-can drink affair. Just a polite sip or three whilst commiserating with fellows in the sweet-smelling air.
[Calevaro]
Calevaro stands at the univercity's entransse for a moment. His head is bowed as he walks, his eyes thoughtful. He raises his head, nodding to the food. Perhaps later, when he feels beter about this whole situation.
[Lofty]
Lofty the Talz is too robust for the normal Resistance naval uniform, so he wears a bandolier, and a rank patch with MCPO on his right arm. He also has the mustard-colored soft cover hat fitted awkwardly on his alien head. The naval NCO is slowly advancing forward in the line to Mon Mothma's casket. He holds a bouquet of local indigo-purple Rominaria flowers in his shaggy white paw.
[Merek]
Merek makes his way into the place to offer his respect to Mon Mothma, and has taken his time to put on his dress uniform, which is black with his pilot jacket adjusted about it as well. He has on a special shimmersilk belt, while there is a nicely tucked shift which carries his rank and title in the nobility also. It looks like he is doing all he can to be formal which is for a state leader also.
[Tallie Lintra]
Two more make their way into the hall, Tallissan Lintra and Callax Dalso, Resistance uniforms impeccable, blonde hair shining under the lights. Callax, his platinum hair carefully coiffed, leans his head towards Tallie to murmur a question. They confer a moment before continuing on. His heavily tinted glasses catch the light and reflect the colorful swirl of activity around them. They make their way past the tables laden with food and flowers to stand among those representing the Resistance. Once in place they exchange a glance and face forward towards the Generals and other dignitaries who will lead the ceremony.
[Aryn Cole]
Aryn Cole is situated away from the main crowd and quietly watching with a somber reverence. She's wearing a white noble tunic, cape, complete with a broach that bears her family's sigil. In one hand, she sports a small glass of blossom wine, while her other is hooked to her belt casually. Aryn's bright blonde hair is pulled back neatly, with a single ornately braided strand that is tucked behind her ear.
[Callax Dalso]
Moving along with Tallie, Callax is, of course, as elegantly made as ever he is - likely he'd be in one of those heavenly gowns of his were it not a uniform affair. He walks with the Captain, slipping his arm in hers; the glasses he wears are more like extremely fashionable welder's goggles, the way they seal away his eyes behind black lenses and carefully-tooled leather. Blackout glasses? At a funeral? Surely they aren't so nobody can see him cry.
[Ambrosia Greystorm]
The opulence of Theed flows seamlessly from the University gardens into this deceptively capacious antechamber. It has been made all the more so by tasteful decor arranged /just so/ in reverence to the woman who is cause for yesterday's "Day of Mourning" and today's presentation of an empty casket, mounted on a low, wreathed dais in the center of the grand foyer.
Sunlight brightens and wanes through high-arched windows; their sparkling rays are shifted by every passing cloud in the torquois sky. Flowers, imported special through questionable means from Chandrila fill the space with fragrance, washed over attendees by a lazy breeze. Soft music plays from the far corners where members of the University's symphony heartfully gift their contribution to this somber occasion.
A few members of the Royal Security Force stand guard along either side of the dais, facing the revolving stream of visitors with dignified posture and solemn expression. There is no body present for any miscreant TO dessicrate, only a steady glow of the woman's likeness from atop a pedestal, her holographic face gazing at those who pay their respects with unseeing eyes that do, nevertheless, glow with life and a wisdom all their own.
Nearby, another device displays a never-ending stream of images (provided prior by any surviving loved ones) representing all the other lives lost aboard the Ackbar, Rogue Squadron, even Hosnian Prime. Somewhere amid the inumerable scroll of faces are others who died, Resisting the rise of the First Order, defending those values the New Republic held so dear, demilitarization be damned. Jaya, Devii, Caory, Tess, the scores of others lost...they are all there, intermixed with the civilians and Naval personnel of the NR.
It is between this pedestal and the one bearing Mon Mothma's iconic visage that Ambrosia Greystorm stands, on guard, in dress uniform, at parade rest. Her hips are without the usual ensemble of sidearms and butchery tools. In fact, none of the Resistance personnel inside this University building are carrying heat. House rules - a condition of the prestigious and peaceful grounds playing host to today's affair. Mothma, it could be argued, stood for peace and democracy, above all else. Even when inciting a riot-turned Galactic Civil War against Palpatine and his regime.
But this does not mean the Brigadier General is defenseless. Her feet are clad strangely in neat, consisely heeled pumps, with a point. Her legs above the knee disappear into a neatly tailored skirt, with the tiniest of slits notched into the rear. It's all the 'give' she'd need. Her fists, held tautly together at the low of her back are indeed fists, and beside them, a Sorosuub stun baton hangs from a loop on her leather belt. It's the one time she's opted to wear the feminine version of the Army Brass uniform. And it will likely be the last. For Mothma. Despite longstanding differences of opinion.
May as well also be for Leia's benefit, exhibiting the tamer, diplomatic side Greystorm ought to be capable of, by now. It's no secret how little she cared for the "girl queen" of Naboo, the first time the Resistance came to their shores, asking for help, but she's here on her best behavior.
[Calevaro]
Calevaro would walk into the chamber, head still bowed. His thoughts are on Mothma: It was her speeches that were the inspiration for him to join the resistance: In a sense, she was the person that made the young man leave his confortable life at Corellia and to really devote himself to a fight that wasn't even his to begin with: The first order didn't take anything from him, didn't destroy his planet. And yet here he is, miles away from Corellia, paying his respects to someone who he'd never even meet.
[Merek]
Merek makes his way to a place he can watch, while he shifts his uniform while nodding a bit also.
[Tallie Lintra]
A well covered sigh escapes from Tallie as she stands at attention a few rows back from the podium. She watches the rolling panorama of faces who sacrificed themselves for their cause, blinking once at a face she recognizes, biting her bottom lip as Blue Squadron's face flash by to be replaced by the crew of the Raddus. An elbow nudge to Callax, a little comfort in the vast sea of grief that threatens to subsume her.
[Aryn Cole]
An emptiness fills Aryn's conscious as she stares at the holos of old faces that once frequented the ranks of the Resistance, and prior to that, the New Republic. Each held meaning, significance, and now in the absence of those faces, their purpose has gone to rest. Aryn found it difficult to follow along. She wasn't sure who she should talk to, who she should comfort, or what she should say. The entire place was overrun with sadness and it twisted her heart. Aryn found a comfortable place to observe for now, and she passed off her wine glass to free her hands completely.
[Leia Organa]
Leia Organa cuts a solemn figure beside Amber, likewise dressed in formal attire of a long-sleeved empress style dress with an overcoat in a slightly darker shade. She doesn't appear to be armed, though that's not uncommon for her on most days, and especially not on occasions such as these. Her stance is less rigid than the woman beside her, hands clasped in front of her instead of behind, eyes sweeping the faces of the attendees as they make their way in.
[Lofty]
Lofty keeps moving up the line, and once the Talz is next to Mon Mothma's casket, the large white-furred alien bends. He places a bouquet of indigo-purple Rominaria flowers at the base of the casket, readjusts his cap, and shuffles off to the snack table.
[Ambrosia Greystorm]
"Here come some familiar faces..." Ambrosia murmurs out the corner of her mouth to her forever-Chief-of-State. A few well-manicured fingernails rap against the handle of her baton. Her jade stare tracks the arrival of Resistance uniforms before making note of individual faces /wearing/ those uniforms. Watchdog mode: activated. That's what she's decided her purpose is here. Since taking up her post, she's looked at everyone and everything except that oscillating holosphere of lost souls. Somewhere in the horde of dead smiles is her son's likeness. Beaming that heartbreaking grin of innocence. It's not something she's keen on bearing witness to. Not here.
[Calevaro]
Calevaro would offer Tallie and Callax a wave, his head still down. He simply let his legs take him to wherever they want, ending up next to where Aryn is. He raises his head, offering her a small, polit wave.
[Callax Dalso]
"You know," Callax murmurs to Tallie as he stands there, "I can't see a damned thing. Just...wheel me over with you and I"ll do the murmuring thing."
Callax is a special boy.
[Merek]
Merek looks to the people, and also to the people that came, nodding a bit while he keeps to himself as well.
[Tallie Lintra]
"Don't worry," Tallie murmurs, facing forward, her lips barely moving. "I have your six." Her gaze sweeps over the dignitaries, catching the impassivity of the General's face. Now, that she has spent more time with the woman, she has begun to understand what it covers. The general's son's photo flashes by, another sweet smile gone.
[Callax Dalso]
"Well, thanks be for that," Callax says with a soft laugh. "Honestly, I don't know if I'm night-blind or I'm just blind. I went overboard with these glasses."
[Leia Organa]
Leia has made a point to not look at that display of lost souls, too many of those faces are familiar and it brings about an ache that undermines the stoic, unshakable mantle she has adopted here today. "Good." Not that there was any doubt they would be here. "Wading in through the sea of people here to honor Mon Mothma."
[Lofty]
Lofty the Talz just peruses the snack tables after paying his respect to Mon Mothma. He looks up for a time to watch the image parade of fallen heroes, sniffling and wiping a tear from his upper set of eyes. He finds a canape small enough to fit in his proboscis and he nibbles it. Quietly.
[Ambrosia Greystorm]
"From the smells wafting in with, I'd say they've gotten the refreshments underway." Greystorm observes lightly. She is horrendous with small talk. The dry tone in her voice before she lapses back into silence suggests she knows as much. Her chin tips forward a smidge in acknowledgement to Tallie's wandering eye, then juts aside, questioning quirk of brow pondering Callax's blinders.
[Callax Dalso]
"So tell me something," Callax murmurs to Tallie, leaning against the lady. "Do I look all right, or is everyone staring at me?" Callax adds, "Because I feel like people are staring. And not like usual."
[Tallie Lintra]
"Right, they've finished I think. Want something to eat?" Tallie gives him one of the odd looks that he hopes to avoid. Callax might put on airs of being self-involved and concerned about his behavior but it is only that. Airs. Distraction from the real man. "The General aced you. Prepare for a conversation. I'll try to keep you out of her way. Otherwise," she looks around them surreptitiously, "no more oddly than normal. There is a young man who thinks you might be his cup of tea." A relieved grin breaks out, setting two dimples on either side of her mouth.
"You need to eat as well, I bet you they put on a good spread." Anything to distract herself from the daily fare of listening to the litany of the dead that weighs on her night and day; today's ceremony has turned it up to a cacophony.
[Elrych Cometburn]
Finally making it through the line, and flying Solo at the moment, comes the hodded figure of Elrych Cometburn. Ace Pilot and Jedi Initiate to the New Order. He's taking off his sunglasses, as one showing respect would do, exposing his brillian blue eyes which search the gathering proper. He doesn't enter and mingle just yet, though his attention is on the plethora of food that's being offered. Instead, the cocky Corellian opts to lean against a table and looks cool. He was already fashionably late anyways... The table he leans against just so happens to have a potted plant on it. It wobbles and tips as the Jedi slips, his eyes going wide, reaching out with a quickness to keep the plant from falling over and making a mess all over the floor. Noone saw that... or at least that's what he's going to tell himself the rest of the night. He didn't know Mon Mothma, never met her. Maybe he heard about her... He walks over towards the platter spread and starts to quietly pick things out and onto a plate.
[Leia Organa]
"Good. The more food the better," Leia remarks in a low tone to the woman beside her, eyes moving over Tallie, and Callax, then on to others. "It helps to keep people from saying things they shouldn't." Her eyes are aimed at Elrych as the plant wobbles, then continues on as though she didn't see anything.
[Callax Dalso]
"I feel like a fathier prepped for a carriage," Callax mutters faintly to himself, then murmurs back to Tallie, "Let me just stand here and point me in the direction of the ceremonies. Poor woman doesn't need me to fall all over myself trying to walk around while her memory's being feted."
[Lofty]
Lofty has paid respect Mon Mothma, honored their noble dead, and sampled the canapés. The large white-furred alien begins to extricate himself, taking care not to bump into the masses of mourners. He doffs his cap at Tallie, and then Elrych, and out he goes.
[Tallie Lintra]
"No, nope," Tallie says with the sweetness of the very decided, ace pilots have a tendency to be stubborn. Linking her arm through his, she pulls gently enough to not pull him off his feet but to set them off together. They sail magnificently like two great Corellian ships, all sails set, for the canapés table, steering nimbly out of the way of the brass.
[Ambrosia Greystorm]
"There aren't many left who /can/ speak to the deeds of the deceased," Ambrosia takes her glower off Mr Cometburn's almost-accident and quirks a golden brow to Leia. "At least they've permitted our use of this hall. /Chandrila/ was certainly off the table." She clears her throat lightly and adjusts her stance. It'd seem the B.G. isn't going to hound after anyone anytime soon. Or shadow the liquid refreshments. Much as she'd desire.
The music fades to silence and the musicians grant themselves a brief respite to sip water, relax their wrists, and prepare for the next number. Outside, the number of bodies surrounding the edible offerings is thickening. Hushed murmurs, political banter - all sorts of convo that Greystorm has little stomach for.
