Vansen Tyree
Apr 25th, 2012, 06:44:40 AM
Vansen walked slower than ever, as if the weight of the world had settled onto his shoulders. In a way it had: for the revelations of recent days had turned his world upsidedown. The news of General Dan's sordid secrets and machinations were bad enough: the General was a hero of the Alliance whose actions in the past had been enough to earn complete ungrudging respect from Vansen Tyree. But the news of his wife - his dark apprentice - had cut the Commodore even deeper. Loklorien s'Ilancy was a woman who he had trusted more than almost anyone else in this life. He had never been so badly betrayed.
His gaze strayed to Adonis Inirial: one of the contingent of important souls that had travelled to the Wheel on behalf of Alliance Intelligence and High Command. He wondered if someone had dispatched his mentor's son as a kindness: a way to soften the emotional blow being inflicted upon the grizzled Old Man that Vansen had become. Regardless, it hadn't worked: hearing the news delivered by such a familiar face had made it even harder to disbelieve.
Worse still was the errand upon which he had now been forced to embark. The Whaladon - the heart of the Jedi Order's fugitive fleet - had been swallowed into the ventral bay of the Challenger; Vansen stood at the airlock, waiting for it to finish cycling so that he could escort the envoys of the Alliance aboard and let them announce to the Jedi Council - in person - how they intended to react to this dark news.
The resounding clunk of heavy-duty mechanisms heralded the slow disappearence of the airtight doorway, a slight hiss of differential pressure breezing past Vansen's ears. His eye adjusted to the slightly dimmer light that struggled it's way into the pristine white of the Challenger; two Jedi Knights stood waiting, ready to escort their honoured guests to the Council chambers.
He turned to the most senior of his companions, his face more grim ans grizzled than ever. "After you," he said simply, gesturing a hand towards the bowels of the Whaladon.
His gaze strayed to Adonis Inirial: one of the contingent of important souls that had travelled to the Wheel on behalf of Alliance Intelligence and High Command. He wondered if someone had dispatched his mentor's son as a kindness: a way to soften the emotional blow being inflicted upon the grizzled Old Man that Vansen had become. Regardless, it hadn't worked: hearing the news delivered by such a familiar face had made it even harder to disbelieve.
Worse still was the errand upon which he had now been forced to embark. The Whaladon - the heart of the Jedi Order's fugitive fleet - had been swallowed into the ventral bay of the Challenger; Vansen stood at the airlock, waiting for it to finish cycling so that he could escort the envoys of the Alliance aboard and let them announce to the Jedi Council - in person - how they intended to react to this dark news.
The resounding clunk of heavy-duty mechanisms heralded the slow disappearence of the airtight doorway, a slight hiss of differential pressure breezing past Vansen's ears. His eye adjusted to the slightly dimmer light that struggled it's way into the pristine white of the Challenger; two Jedi Knights stood waiting, ready to escort their honoured guests to the Council chambers.
He turned to the most senior of his companions, his face more grim ans grizzled than ever. "After you," he said simply, gesturing a hand towards the bowels of the Whaladon.