[center]~| Onboard the Memory of Coruscant (Jedi Quarters→ Bridge) : Day 3, 17:56 - 18:00 GST|~
[sub][h3]~|Lyric|~[/h3][/sub][/center]

When the Jedi left, Lyric had left the bridge hours ago and departed for his quarters. He needed to center his mind before things became too knotted to focus as his boots causally clicked within the metal hallways. The master’s pace was calm and graceful, with a hint of laziness in it while he cut corners to reach the Jedi quarters. His door opened immediately on sensing him stand in front, the middle parted with a sound hiss allowing him to step in. It closed quickly behind him while he discarded his top layer then casted it aside onto his modest bunk. Scars, old and faded, were seen across his arms etched by close encounters with combative Sith lightsabers through his history. 

The war, as much as it hurt him to admit it, was a much simpler affair. He merely followed orders and killed when needed, lowering the Sith number. Lyric bitterly realized it wasn’t enough. Despite how many lives he ended, the numbers seemed to grow instead of declined leaving the Jedi at a disadvantage while their ground was slowly lost. It was a fact he hated though he had long ago came to peace with it. 

Inhaling slowly,  Lyric’s legs curled up underneath him and he lowered himself onto the hard floor. His arms settled on his thighs while he continued to inhale, bring his energy to the surface. It warmed and tingled with the pure light of the force, his flesh becoming alive thanks to the energy coursing through it. It filtered outward to spread into the air like a gentle flame igniting the room’s inside in a light feeling that brought tranquility and calmness. It caused Lyric to smirk at the sensation playing on his core, completely enjoying it, until the comm buzzed on. His teeth tightened about his cigarra end as the skin crinkled, his canines nearly biting it off, when the woman informed him of an answer to the distress beacon. Lyric’s eye popped open with a raised eyebrow to study the words in silence for a few moments longer. 

Finally, he spoke. “Alright, I’ll be there shortly.” 

Vebra and Fa were right when he never changed the channel, mostly out of pure laziness but also because he knew many of his old combat allies still used it in times of distress and emergency aid. Part of him had been counting on hearing from a few that were empathizers to his cause. He lifted to his feet then made his way to the bridge, a quickness to his step and the assumption that Vebra likely went through half a dozen insults by the time he reached it. A few Jedi Service Corp staff turned their heads at sensing him enter, their bodies raised to saluted then once more sat down. It annoyed him to see them acting so formal toward him yet he sealed his lips, adjusting his attention to the holoview nearest him. 

Lyric chuckled at the latest insult. Schutta. His cigarra smoldered at the end and nearly died, his hand reached upward  and aimed to toss it into a tray disposal. The other hand went for his robes, expecting to feel the hard case. He stopped when he quickly discover he had left it back in his room. He gave a slight groan, his teeth pushing past the cheap papering., while the man stopped his motion. Instead he didn’t take out his smoke and merely flipped on the monitor. 

“So… How long did it take your thick skull to come up with Schutta or did a Twi’lek have to help you?”