First encounter with Commander Bastila Shan.
The Endar Spire has a a new Commander
The Endar Spire hung motionless in the vast expanse of space, as if time itself had frozen around the Republic cruiser. From my vantage point, I stood stock-still, my eyes fixed on Colonel Tavhir, the ship's commander. His tall, lean figure cut a striking silhouette against the stark backdrop of the docking bay, setting him apart from the other officers present.
Tavhir paced nervously, his head slightly bowed as if weighed down by unseen burdens. His meticulously groomed, graying hair lent him an air of wisdom that belied the tension evident in his movements. Here was a man who had proven himself time and again on the battlefield, earning the respect of those under his command.
Yet, I knew that despite his accomplishments, Tavhir's career had likely reached its zenith. His straightforward nature, while admirable, had often put him at odds with the Republic's high command. But the Colonel seemed to care little for political maneuvering or further promotions. For him, the freedom to voice his convictions without restraint was paramount.
Even so, the frustration radiating from him was palpable. Try as he might to conceal it, his men could sense his growing irritation at the obstacles being placed in his path. As I watched him, I couldn't help but wonder what new challenges awaited us, and how Tavhir's unyielding nature would shape the events to come.
Today was a day that pushed Tavhir's self-control to its limits. The Republic had handed down what was undoubtedly the most galling order of his career—a directive that strained his discipline and sense of duty to their breaking point.
Not far from the agitated Colonel stood one of his Lieutenants, a stolid presence amid the tension. The man, on the cusp of his forties, cut an impressive figure in his thick, pearlescent orange jacket. It was paired with dark pants that disappeared into polished black boots, a uniform that spoke of both authority and practicality. His remarkable beard and short, dense brown hair framed a face etched with experience.
The Lieutenant's eyes never left his superior officer, tracking Tavhir's restless movements with a mixture of concern and curiosity. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, knuckles white with tension—a silent mirror of the anxiety radiating from the Colonel. As he watched, the Lieutenant couldn't help but wonder what kind of order could rattle a man as seasoned as Tavhir.
Behind Tavhir and his Lieutenant, a formation of soldiers stood at attention—nearly thirty of us, arranged in four impeccable rows. Our Republic armour gleamed under the harsh lights of the docking bay, presenting an image of discipline and strength. This was the new garrison to which I had been hastily assigned, a last-minute addition to their ranks.
My mind briefly flashed back to the gruelling two months of intensive training on Coruscant. Now, here I was, aboard the Hammerhead-class cruiser Endar Spire, ostensibly serving as a translator and interpreter for this garrison. Our mission, I knew, was to accompany the legendary Bastila Shan, though the specifics of our upcoming adventures remained shrouded in mystery.
From my position in the third row, I could feel the tension radiating from my fellow soldiers. We maintained a rigid silence, our disciplined stillness a stark contrast to the agitated movements of our superiors just metres away. Despite our best efforts to remain impassive, it was impossible to ignore the undercurrent of dissatisfaction in Commander Tavhir's voice. His murmured words, tinged with bitterness, carried to us on the recycled air of the docking bay.
"They're late," grumbled the Colonel, his words met with silence.
"They're late, Carth!" he repeated more forcefully, his gaze snapping up to the man in the orange jacket.
"Yes, sir. They may be," Carth clarified, his tone carefully neutral.
Tavhir's voice rose, tinged with indignation. "They have the audacity to disembark and kick me off my own ship, to force me to abandon my men, and they can't even have the decency to arrive on time for it!"
"Commander," Onasi interjected, his calm tone a stark contrast to Tavhir's agitation, "you know this measure is temporary. You're not being stripped of your duties."
"Thank goodness for that. Otherwise, believe me, I'd have made it difficult for her! That little girl would have hit a brick wall!"
Carth's expression tightened slightly. "She doesn't need that to find herself in trouble. She's a Jedi, after all. She knows nothing of military life. And if you want to get your men back as you left them, you'll have to be more patient with her."
Tavhir's shoulders sagged slightly, some of the fight leaving him. "That's why I'm counting on your professionalism, Lieutenant. You have qualities in that regard that I readily admit to lacking."
Carth nodded in agreement, a flicker of understanding passing between the two men.
An alarm suddenly pierced the air, its shrill cry drawing all eyes upward to the vast expanse of the docking bay. Through the shimmering electromagnetic field, we could see a shuttle making its slow, deliberate approach towards the cruiser. Tavhir's eyebrow arched in surprise; something was amiss. There should have been two shuttles.
Carth's gaze flicked briefly in our direction. We remained statuesque, adhering strictly to our orders. His attention quickly returned to his superior, whose face was a canvas of barely contained frustration.
With a soft hum, the shuttle breached the force field, gliding smoothly to a landing several hundred metres from where we stood at attention. The ship's ramp deployed with startling abruptness, crashing onto the hangar floor with a thunderous clang that echoed through the cavernous space.
Two figures in Republic uniforms emerged from the shuttle's interior. Tavhir's sigh was audible even from where I stood. With a curt gesture, he motioned for his Lieutenant to accompany him. Carth fell into step beside the Colonel as they strode purposefully towards the new arrivals.
As they closed the distance, the tension in the air seemed to thicken. From my position, I could only watch and wonder: who were these unexpected guests, and what news did they bring that required such an unorthodox arrival?
"Colonel Tavhir, Lieutenant Onasi," the first individual greeted them, his voice tinged with apprehension. "We apologise for the delay and the inconvenience regarding the transfer of command of the Endar Spire."
Tavhir's jaw clenched visibly. "Because there's another inconvenience?" he asked, barely containing his exasperation.
"Colonel, as you can see, the Jedi shuttle is not here yet."
"Well, thank you for pointing that out to me... Ensign," Tavhir replied, his sarcasm biting as he emphasised the man's significantly lower rank.
The Ensign swallowed hard. "We were informed that the shuttle will join the Endar Spire in about fifteen minutes."
"Very well. Let's wait then," the Colonel said, his steely gaze fixed on the increasingly uncomfortable Ensign.
"Colonel, I'm sorry, but you must leave your cruiser. We need to get you back on board the Arbiter as soon as possible."
Tavhir's silence was deafening. Beside him, Carth's expression tightened, clearly bracing for what was to come.
"Help me understand, will you?" Tavhir finally spoke, his tone dangerously calm. "You're telling me I have to leave my ship and my men when my successor hasn't even arrived yet? You're asking me to leave my cruiser without command?"
"Didn't you appoint a steward, as Admiral Dodonna ordered?" The other man, who had remained silent until now, suddenly interjected.
Tavhir's glare could have melted durasteel. "Lieutenant Carth Onasi is my steward. And who are you?" he demanded, eyes scanning the man's jacket for any military insignia.
"Dreshan Norr, Senator of the Taris system," the man replied, unfazed by Tavhir's hostility. "I am aware of the recent measures taken by your Admiral, who entrusted me with overseeing this transfer. Therefore, Tavhir, you are commanded to obey. The Jedi had a slight delay, which is in no way Commander Shan's fault."
Tavhir's jaw clenched, the Senator's words echoing in his mind. He had no choice. These orders came directly from Dodonna, a woman he deeply respected. Despite their occasional disagreements, Tavhir harboured a sincere admiration for his Admiral. She had always conducted herself with dignity and competence. He had to trust her judgment.
With a resigned sigh, Tavhir slowly unfastened his insignia. The metal felt heavy in his hand as he passed it to the Senator. He exchanged a meaningful glance with Carth, years of mutual respect and understanding passing between them in that brief moment. Then, with measured steps that belied his inner turmoil, Tavhir walked towards the shuttle.
The Senator and Ensign watched his retreat warily, as if expecting the seasoned officer to change his mind at any moment. Only when Tavhir had disappeared into the shuttle did they relax visibly. The Senator gestured for the Ensign to join the Colonel, then turned to Carth, solemnly presenting him with Tavhir's insignia.
"We must depart," Norr stated, his tone formal. "You will deliver this to Commander Shan. She should arrive shortly. Before we leave, I'll inform her that she needs to address you. Our apologies for this... somewhat chaotic handover."
"Thank you, Senator," Carth replied simply, his face a mask of professionalism.
Norr offered a respectful nod to the cruiser's temporary commander before striding towards the shuttle. Within moments, the vessel had lifted off, bearing Tavhir away from his command.
A minute passed, filled with a tense silence. Then, Carth approached our group, still waiting at attention behind him. He took a deep breath, his voice carrying clearly as he announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, be ready to welcome your new superior very soon. Please maintain your positions."
We remained silent, but a subtle ripple passed through our ranks as we adjusted our postures, each of us striving to present the best possible impression for our incoming Commander.
Part of this disciplined formation yet acutely aware of my unique role, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of leader this Commander Shan would prove to be. The unusual circumstances of her arrival had already set a tone of uncertainty. How would she navigate the complex dynamics aboard the Endar Spire, and what challenges lay ahead for us all?
The wait was mercifully brief. True to Norr's word, the Jedi shuttle materialised suddenly, gliding to a smooth landing with a grace that belied its size. Once again, the ramp slammed onto the hangar floor, the harsh sound echoing through the cavernous space.
From the shuttle's interior emerged two figures clad in pale brown robes. Their movements were fluid and ethereal, a stark contrast to the rigid military bearing we were accustomed to. I found myself captivated by their presence, and a quick glance at Carth confirmed he was equally entranced. After Tavhir's gruff demeanour and the heavy atmosphere of military protocol, this display of subtle grace was a welcome change.
The two Jedi paused at the foot of the ramp, their stillness radiating a sense of expectancy. We didn't have to wait long to understand why. A third figure appeared at the top of the ramp, and even from a distance, there was no mistaking the aura of authority that surrounded her.
As she descended, her steps were measured and purposeful, exuding a determination that was almost palpable. She moved towards Carth Onasi with unwavering focus, her presence commanding attention without a word being spoken.
I watched as Carth's eyes followed her approach, his usual professional detachment momentarily forgotten. There was something in his gaze – a mix of curiosity, respect, and perhaps a touch of wariness – that spoke volumes about the impact of this new arrival.
As she drew closer, the anticipation among our ranks grew.
Bastila Shan, the very name that had been Tavhir's nightmare, now stood before us as the new Commander of the cruiser. Her reputation preceded her, a name whispered with awe throughout the Republic forces. She was, undeniably, a true war hero in her own right.
Her almost unique power of Battle Meditation had been a crucial asset for the Republic, relentlessly pushing back the seemingly inevitable doom of the war against Dark Malak's Empire. This extraordinary ability could restore strength and determination to allied troops while simultaneously eroding the morale of the enemy. While Battle Meditation was not unknown among the Jedi, Bastila Shan was unquestionably the most gifted practitioner in the Order's long history, surpassing even the few Masters who had mastered this rare technique.
And then there was her crowning achievement: the resounding victory over Dark Revan in their fateful duel aboard his flagship. It was a feat that had catapulted her from promising Padawan to living legend almost overnight.
Viewing her now, it was easy to understand Tavhir's initial hostility at the decision to entrust the Endar Spire to what appeared to be an inexperienced young Jedi. Yet, faced with her commanding presence, it was impossible not to feel a deep sense of respect, even gratitude, towards this remarkable woman.
I watched as Carth Onasi stood motionless, seemingly transfixed by the Jedi's arrival. The spell was broken abruptly, and he lurched into motion, hurrying to meet the newcomers with a clumsiness that belied his usual grace. A palpable nervousness radiated from him; clearly, this was not the moment to make a poor impression on his notoriously demanding new superior.
"Lieutenant Carth Onasi, I presume?" Bastila's voice cut through the air, crisp and devoid of emotion.
"That's correct, ma'am," Carth replied, straightening his posture. "Welcome aboard the Endar Spire. Please, allow me to present you with the command insignia of this cruiser."
With a solemnity that seemed almost rehearsed, Carth offered the small object that had adorned Tavhir's jacket mere moments ago. Bastila's gaze flicked down to the insignia. She took it with slender fingers, tucking it away beneath her Jedi robes without ceremony.
"Thank you," she said, her tone as cold as Hoth's winds. Her eyes never met Carth's, and I could see him shift uncomfortably under her dismissive demeanour.
Bastila's gaze swept over our garrison, lined up behind Carth. The silence stretched, becoming almost palpable before she broke it with an impatient,
"Well then? Did you expect us to gaze into each other's eyes all evening? Proceed, Lieutenant."
Carth's eyes flashed, a mixture of defiance and disbelief crossing his features. For a moment, I thought I glimpsed anger simmering beneath his professional veneer, but he mastered it quickly.
"Commander, if you permit," he continued, his voice tight with controlled emotion, "I would like to introduce this group of soldiers who have been specially selected to assist and protect you."
Carth Onasi gestured for the young woman to follow him, and she complied with fluid grace. Her Jedi companions remained behind, silent sentinels in the bustling hangar. We all stood, almost perfectly still, a sea of uniformed statues. From my position in the ranks, I found my gaze irresistibly drawn to her.
"So, it's her," I thought, my attention wholly captured by the renowned Jedi. Despite the soldiers in the front ranks partially obscuring my view, I could clearly make out her form. Clad in her brown robe, she embodied the very essence of what I'd always imagined a Jedi to be. Her movements were precise, economical, yet imbued with an almost ethereal quality.
As she walked, the occasional shift of her robe revealed tantalising glimpses of the double-bladed lightsaber at her belt. I felt a thrill run through me at the sight. Few Jedi dared to wield such a challenging weapon, yet Bastila Shan was famed for her exceptional skill in duelling. It was a testament to her prowess, a physical manifestation of the legends that surrounded her.
I couldn't help but smile, caught up in the wave of fascination that washed over me. Here she was, the hero of the Republic, the wielder of Battle Meditation, walking mere metres away. Despite her cold demeanour towards Carth, I found myself captivated. What must it be like, I wondered, to hold such power? To be the fulcrum upon which the fate of the galaxy could turn?
As I watched her, a strange sensation crept over me. It was more than simple awe or admiration. There was something... familiar about her presence, though I couldn't quite place why. I shook off the feeling, attributing it to the stories and legends I must have heard about her exploits.
Still, as Bastila and Carth moved further away, I couldn't shake the feeling that her arrival marked the beginning of something momentous.
My thoughts shattered abruptly as Bastila Shan's piercing gaze locked onto one of my comrades. The unfortunate soul had been visibly distracted by the Jedi's arrival, and now found himself the focus of her ire.
"Approach," she ordered, her voice sharp as a vibroblade.
Confusion rippled through our ranks. The targeted cadet glanced uncertainly at Lieutenant Onasi, whose face briefly mirrored our bewilderment before hardening.
"You've received an order, Cadet," Carth barked, his tone brooking no argument.
With careful, measured steps, the cadet navigated through our formation. From my vantage point - my imposing 189-centimetre frame affording me a clear view - I watched the scene unfold with growing unease.
"State your identity to the Commander," Carth prompted, his irritation palpable.
"Cadet Jarol Sidbun, Commander," the young man announced, his attempt at solemnity undermined by a slight quaver in his voice.
Bastila's gaze, cold as Hoth ice, remained fixed on the cadet. "Where were you assigned before being sent to the Endar Spire, Cadet?"
Before Sidbun could respond, Carth intervened, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Ma'am, he's one of the civilians we recruited. He's not military personnel and isn't very familiar with protocol."
Bastila's frigid stare silenced Carth before returning to the cadet. "Where were you assigned before this cruiser?" she reiterated, her tone razor-sharp.
"I was assigned to the Research department of the faculty of micro-biology on Coruscant, Commander. I worked in collaboration with the governmental authorities for about four months, and I-"
"I don't need all those details, Cadet," Bastila snapped, her composure cracking to reveal a flash of anger. "If you're here today, it's because we already know everything you were about to say. 'Governmental authorities' have no relevance here. Just do as you're told. And for now, what is required of you is to remain still, in your place, in the third rank. You're a cerebral, aren't you? It's not an intellectually demanding task, is it?"
Her words, dripping with condescension, hung in the air like poison. I felt a surge of sympathy for Sidbun, coupled with a growing unease about our new commander. The Bastila Shan before us seemed a far cry from the inspirational figure of legend.
I found myself in a quandary, unsure of what to make of the scene that had just unfolded. Had I underestimated Bastila's sensitivity as a Jedi? Even so, her attitude seemed excessively harsh, bordering on cruel.
The echoes of her haughty, accented voice still reverberated through the hangar as the chastened cadet hurriedly resumed his position. Without a word to the rest of us, Bastila gave a curt nod to Carth Onasi before sweeping out of the hangar, her Jedi companions in tow.
Carth stood rooted to the spot, his face a mask of barely concealed shock and disapproval. It was clear he found Bastila's conduct provocative, perhaps even unprofessional. Yet, ever the faithful guardian of military discipline, he kept his silence.
"This collaboration is not going to be easy," he muttered, almost to himself, before ordering us to break ranks and leave the hangar.
A heavy, perplexed silence descended upon us as we slowly regained our composure. Hushed murmurs and meaningful glances were exchanged, testament to the confusion that reigned among our ranks. Bastila Shan had arrived heralded as a war hero, yet her arrogant and contemptuous attitude left us all questioning her true nature and intentions.
As we followed Carth's orders, gradually dispersing and making our way back to our respective quarters, I couldn't shake a sense of unease. The legendary Bastila Shan, it seemed, was a far cry from the inspiring figure we had anticipated. Her cold demeanour and apparent disdain for those under her command painted a troubling picture of what lay ahead.
Yet, even as these doubts swirled in my mind, I was acutely aware of the larger context. The war against Malak's forces raged on, heedless of our personal misgivings or confusion. Whatever our new commander's methods, we would need to adapt quickly. The fate of the Republic hung in the balance, and it would not wait for us to reconcile the legend of Bastila Shan with the reality we had just witnessed.
As I made my way to my quarters, I found myself grappling with a mix of emotions - disappointment, concern, and a grudging curiosity about what the coming days would bring. One thing was certain: life aboard the Endar Spire had just become far more complicated than any of us could have anticipated.
"Well, my friend. What a pleasant moment you had! Were you ogling your Commander?"
Jarol Sidbun sank onto one of the benches in the common room, letting out an exasperated sigh at Garrick's teasing comment.
"That's right. And that little public humiliation was such a delightful moment," Jarol replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Garrick, sinking further into the bench, pretended not to hear. "After all, you have to admit that she's much more pleasant to look at than old Tavhir."
"Will you just shut up for a moment, Garrick," Hannah interjected sharply from across the room. She set down her datapad with a clatter, her frustration palpable. "This woman has no consideration for us whatsoever. We're nothing more than cannon fodder in her eyes, completely devoted to protecting her holy person! For heaven's sake, guys, engage your brains for once!"
"This woman has no consideration for us whatsoever. She barely even glanced at us! We're nothing more than cannon fodder in her eyes, completely devoted to protecting her holy person! For heaven's sake, guys, engage your brains for once!"
Garrick's demeanour shifted, his voice suddenly grave. "You're being unfair, Hannah. You're treating us like we can't be professional just because of a few harmless comments." He stood, crossing to her table. After a pause, a wry smile played on his lips as he added, "Besides, that Jedi robe doesn't exactly invite casual observation."
"You're impossible," Hannah replied, her tone flat. Garrick chuckled, departing with Jarol for the mess hall.
I rose to join Hannah, who was visibly struggling to refocus on her reading after the heated exchange. Settling into a chair beside her, I broke the silence:
"You know, I kind of get what happened with Jarol earlier. It was surreal, seeing her in the flesh. We've heard so much about Bastila Shan. Her presence was... distracting. It felt like a character from a novel had stepped into reality. Everyone talks about her, but you never truly expect to cross paths with a living legend."
Hannah looked up from her datapad, her gaze intense as it met mine.
"It felt odd to me too," she confessed. "I can't stomach the idea of being under her command. She's detestable. And yet... I can't help but feel a twinge of envy."
I nodded, understanding all too well.
Hannah continued, her voice tinged with frustration, "I'm probably older than her, and what have I accomplished? She's the Order's prodigy. We likely owe her our lives, and we don't even know her. And what little we've seen doesn't exactly endear her to us. It's... maddening."
"You're selling yourself short, Hannah," I countered gently. "You're part of an elite corps. You're just as crucial to this war effort as that... difficult woman. And don't forget, you've got a wonderful family waiting for you. That's something she can never claim."
My words seemed to lift a weight from Hannah's shoulders. A soft smile graced her features at the mention of her family – her husband and two daughters, her very reason for being. "You're right," she murmured. "Besides, even if she could, who'd want her?" A nervous laugh escaped her lips, and I couldn't help but chuckle in response.
"Thank you, Corem," Hannah added, gratitude warming her tone. "This is just a rough patch. We'll look back on this and laugh someday."
"No doubt about it," I agreed, smiling.
Our moment was interrupted as Lieutenant Ulgo burst in, his voice urgent, "If you lot don't get a move on, you'll miss tonight's meal!"
"We're on our way, Lieutenant," Hannah assured him.
I stood, giving Hannah's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Shall we?"
Let's refine this passage to enhance the atmosphere and the narrator's perspective:
Hannah nodded, setting aside her datapad with a soft clatter. We made our way to the mess hall, where the rest of the garrison had already assembled.
The cavernous space could easily accommodate several hundred people, its vastness now filled with the low hum of conversation and the clinking of cutlery. Each unit huddled around their designated tables, islands of familiarity in the sea of uniforms.
I found myself at our usual spot, surrounded by the now-familiar faces of my comrades. Yet, as the minutes ticked by, I realised I was barely following their animated chatter. The cacophony of voices and clattering trays seemed to fade into a distant buzz as my attention was inexorably drawn to the command table a few metres away.
There, Lieutenant Carth Onasi sat alongside Commander Bastila Shan and her two Jedi companions. The foursome appeared deep in discussion, their heads bent close together over their meals. I couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between Carth's open, expressive gestures and Bastila's contained, almost regal bearing.
My gaze drifted back to our enigmatic commander, seizing this moment of relative calm to study her more intently. Bastila had shed her Jedi robes, now clad in the dark, form-fitting uniform of a Republic general. The change was striking, lending her an air of authority that seemed to command respect even from across the crowded mess hall.
I found myself grudgingly impressed. The uniform suited her, accentuating both her rank and the lean, athletic build of a seasoned warrior. Yet, as I observed her, a familiar conflict stirred within me. Was this change of attire a gesture of respect towards her new role and the soldiers under her command? Or was it merely another calculated move, designed to provoke and assert her dominance?
One couldn't fault a Commander for dressing the part.
Her bearing remained as aloof as ever, her posture perfect as she conversed with Carth and her Jedi companions. Even in this mundane setting, she exuded an aura of detachment, as if she were somehow separate from the rest of us mere mortals.
I then shifted my attention to the Jedi's face. Loath as I was to agree with Garrick's crude observations, it was undeniable: Bastila Shan possessed a striking beauty. Her dark brown hair, now freed from its earlier confinement, framed her face in soft waves, drawing attention to her finely sculpted features.
What truly captivated me, however, were her eyes. Large and luminous, they were an unusual shade of grey that seemed almost opalescent under the mess hall's harsh lighting. Framed by meticulously shaped eyebrows, her gaze held an intensity that was difficult to ignore.
I found myself fascinated, not merely by the aesthetic appeal of her eyes, but by the keen intelligence that radiated from them. Despite her cold and somewhat off-putting demeanour thus far, one couldn't deny the gravitas of her presence.
Bastila Shan had something captivating about her, something that drew attention and sparked curiosity.
Her body language radiated an undeniable self-control and confidence. Every gesture was precise, each glance imbued with a certain gravity. I found myself discreetly captivated by Bastila Shan's imposing presence, studying her from afar.
Suddenly, my silent observation was shattered as the Commander's gaze locked directly onto mine. A jolt of surprise coursed through me. It was as if she had been acutely aware of my scrutiny all along. But surely, I reasoned, that was impossible in this crowded mess hall.
Yet there she was, her eyes boring into mine. For what felt like an eternity, but was likely only a matter of seconds, she held my gaze. Her face remained an impassive mask, betraying no emotion, no hint of her thoughts. I felt exposed, as if those piercing grey eyes were peering straight into my soul, uncovering secrets I didn't even know I harboured.
Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the moment passed. Bastila broke the connection, her gaze sliding away as smoothly as if it had never rested on me at all. She rose from her seat with fluid grace, exchanging a brief, polite nod with Carth before sweeping out of the mess hall, the other two Jedi falling into step behind her.
A gentle nudge from Hannah jolted me back to our table. "Spire to Corem," she teased, her eyes twinkling with understanding. "You're a million light-years away. Trying to read lips?"
I offered a sheepish grin in response, but couldn't shake the feeling that something was brewing.
"I told you she was a catch," Garrick chimed in, his voice cutting through my reverie. It took a moment for his words to register.
"That's not how I see it," I replied, my mind still half-elsewhere. "She possesses an elegance I've rarely encountered in anyone."
Garrick's eyebrow arched in surprise. He studied me for a beat, then broke into an amused grin. "To each their own," he retorted. "Though I suppose she does know how to put people in their place with a certain... grace," he added, casting a meaningful glance towards Jarol, barely suppressing a chuckle.
I couldn't help but crack a small smile at his jibe, but the levity felt hollow. The buzz of the mess hall suddenly became overwhelming, the air too thick.
"I'm heading back to our quarters," I announced, rising from my seat. "I'm tired."
Garrick's face registered brief confusion before he shrugged and nodded. Hannah, however, looked at me with concern etched across her features. "Are you alright, Corem?" she asked softly, her eyes searching mine. "You seem... distracted."
I managed a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, just need some quiet. Don't worry about me."
Hannah nodded slowly, unconvinced but respecting my need for space. "If you need to talk later..." she left the offer hanging in the air.
"Thanks, Hannah," I replied, genuinely appreciative of her concern.
As I made my way towards the exit, leaving behind the cacophony of conversations, I found myself replaying that moment of eye contact with Bastila. What had it meant? And why did it leave me feeling so... unsettled?
The corridor outside offered a welcome respite, its relative quiet allowing me to gather my thoughts. As I walked, I couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had just occurred, though I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.