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"Trust in the Force." The words mulled in his head. Was it minutes? Hours? It could've been days for all he cared. He sat there on the small mattress, in his drab room which he had moved into only days prior. The room was cramped, a quarters he picked. It was out of the way, had the amenities he needed, and most importantly, it was his. He was allowed to do what he wished with the place, some responsibility which escaped him when constantly on the move, sleeping in huts, barracks- even waterlogged trenches and fighting holes. These comforts were hardly afforded in times of war. It was out of some respect, some condolence for the troops, those clones.

It hurt to think about them. The soldiers who had so vehemently and eagerly fought under the command of the Jedi they had gunned down mercilessly, without so much as a second thought. The thoughts plagued him. Did his master die quickly? Or was he left on the temple grounds to have his life fade slowly. "There is no death, there is the Force." He thought back to his training, the code he was to memorize and understand in full. How could it be true? He'd seen death. They did not become one with the Force. Everyone from clones to even some Jedi died and became little more than corpses burned to ash.

He opened his eyes, and the saber hilt which hovered before him clattered to the ground. The recording cut out, replaced by the sound of a voice. It didn't register right away, the intercom giving no illusion to its state, rasping the sound. He caught "would everyone please come to the main room." Master Azure, commander and director of the vessel. Samuel had his own deep respect for him, the old, wise Jedi who'd perhaps had one of the most difficult ascendancies through the ranks of the Order. He uncrossed his legs and rose, approaching his wardrobe with slow, deliberate movements, prying open the metal doors.

He reached into the dark interior of the wardrobe, the area which hid itself from the dull, dim lamp on the other side of the room, and felt the fabric of the contents, and pulled his cloak from the hook, draping the white and grey cloth around his brown tunic and trousers. He felt some sort of strength, some sort of anonymity under the layers, the pure white. It was these robes that made him disagree with the adage of purple being the noblest shroud. A shroud for the ignorant and pompous, perhaps. But truly, the shroud of the noble was white. Pure. Innocent.

He was caught up in thought again, and forced himself back to reality, closing the doors of the wardrobe with a loud racket. He turned for the door, giving the console a light tap to coax the metal door to spring open. And he shuffled through, banking left down the long, cramped hallway, and continued the straight shot to the fore of the vessel, before banking a right into the common area, where he was called to meet.

He entered the room with an interaction of the door, and greeted those within. "Master Azure, Knight Salavr." He bowed his head in greeting, shuffling off to the side to wait for the remainder of the crew.