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| - Gold Beaches - Coronet City The crash of the surf here is not so loud as the engines of the Port, but they carry the same strength and promise of power, more magestic than any artificial energy. The deep blue of the water is complimented royally by bright gold sand beaches, stretching north-south of the City. It is a fine sand, glittering underfoot, and residents of the city as well as visitors relax in its warmth. The occasional CorSec officer patrols here, for the safety of the public. Leia: This human woman embodies a nobility of rare quality in this galaxy. Though small of stature, her figure of classic perfection moves with an inherent grace and regal aire. Fine-boned hands mesmerize as they gesture in concert with her rich, ginger-toned speech. Bow-shaped lips of coral curve softly. Above them is her pert nose whose mischief threatens her dignity at times. A tinge of shell-pink washes her fair cheeks. Large eyes of deepest brown sparkle with flecks of cinnamon, reflecting the soul of a true and strong-willed heart. Chestnut tresses have remained uncut since adolescence, indicative of her Alderaanian heritage. Today she wears her hair in a thick braid which circles the crown of her well-shaped head, though some wisps escape to softly frame her oval face. Some of her hair has been pulled back into another long braid that runs all the way down her back. She rarely fails to dress with exact appropriateness and today she has selected a practical jumpsuit. A well tailored garment that hugs her form perfectly without being revealing or tight. It has several pockets and is belted at the waist with a woven belt of a deeper tan. A vest is worn as well, quilted and of a warm tan corduroy. The legs of the suit tuck into comfortable dark brown leather boots that rise to just above her ankles. Han: This tall, rangy man moves with the loose and confident motions of a fighter, someone accustomed to getting into tight situations... and getting quickly right back out of them. His brown hair is cut pragmatically short, but is thick enough to hold a hint of a wave, framing a set of ruggedly handsome features that have finally lost the last traces of youthfulness and are solidly into weathered maturity. A long scar crooks across his chin, adding another touch of ruggedness to his face. Sharp-gazed hazel eyes, prone to shift tint depending on his clothing, miss very little that crosses their line of sight, and he typically speaks in a resonant, gravelly baritone. He is currently clad in a simple black vest over a white shirt, tucked into military-blue pants, notable by the single red stripe that runs down the side of each leg, and scuffed black boots. All of his clothing appears to have seen better days, although it's perfectly serviceable. Around his waist is slung a blaster belt, tilted down slightly at an angle towards the holster riding on his right thigh. Jessalyn: The composure of this young human woman is probably the most striking thing about her. Though otherwise unassuming, her expression is one of surprising coherence and calm, belied only by the slightly mischievous gleam in her leaf green eyes. Shining dark red hair falls in unruly silken waves down to the middle of her back, framing her wide cheekbones and smooth, pale skin not as fragile as most redheads'. She is relatively tall for a human woman, with long-boned limbs and a natural grace amplified by her skills. Jessa is dressed in a drab green sleeveless shirt, and a pair of kakhi pants with plenty of pockets. Around her waist is a black leather utility belt. Her hair is held back from her face and clipped behind her head, though stray curling locks continue to fall into her eyes. The fit of her trousers and the sturdy brown suede boots on her legs emphasize her narrow waist and the long-legged rhythm of her strides. Luke: Shrouded in ebon clothing as black as night, this thin young humans sky blue eyes sparkle from beneath his hooded cowl. Shaggy locks of disheveled sun-bleached hair poke out above, defying even the blackness of his clothing. His right hand also is clad in a black tight fitting glove occasionally clenching in its prison, as if recalling some ancient memory. Despite the moody attire, his face is jovial, kind and expressive, if not now showing the early lines of coming age and a well worn tan. Faint laughlines at the corners of his eyes, a barely detectable scar in the crease from his nose to his mouth create character to his face. Yet something deep lingers behind his visage, a thoughtful brooding not found in most men his age. The cloak he wears typically has the hood up to conceal his features. After all, in a dangerous galaxy, incognito is a good bet. It is open in the front showing a dark tunic underneath, going nearly to his knee high and jet black military style boots. The only other object visible as his robes move is a silver metallic object twelve inches in length and clipped to his belt. The beach. Leia has this odd craving for a walk on the beach. With Luke and Han coming back and everyone getting reunited, it's enough to make her head spin sometimes. Such an odd dichotomy. Being able to stand on one's own but at the same time, missing everyone so... They must all feel that way. It comes with the territory of what they do. So Leia walks alone onto the sands, her small booted feet making shallow impressions in the dune. Imagining the shared solitude, as if the empathy would be able to bring her closer to her loved ones, wherever they are. Leia cannot know just what all has transpired on this very beach in the past standard month or so. Her own reawakening, the destruction of the mind trap that had finally freed her spirit after two long years, the battle between the Jedi and the Selas that had ended so horribly, with Simon disappearing without a trace. All of that should've kept Jessalyn from returning here, but yet, she has. She stands just along the water's edge, her trousers rolled up to her knees, ankle-high in water as she looks out over the horizon, paying little to heed to the tourists and Coronet residents who are also enjoying this stretch of the beach. Han had, oddly enough, spent the night on the beach. Not a normal thing, indeed. Instead of coddling his precious baby, he was here, sitting in the sand, peering out at the waters. He had been most of the day. Ever since he woke up from being bashed against the sands by Simon. Which, in retrospect, wasn't very pleasant. But he would do it again, if it meant saving Luke's life. Why is it, even after several years, that Han can still surprise her? As Leia crests the first wind-blown dune, the familiar back of Han's head makes itself visible. "Han!" True, she doesn't know what happened here, but this feels unusual. She picks her way half awkwardly down the dune, sending miniature rockslides of sand down beside of him. Reaching him, she lands her behind on the sand and throws an arm around him. "What's going on here? Are you all right?" There are others on the beach besides the tourists, and Jessalyn doesn't have to turn her head to see the small princess rushing to her husband's side, but she does anyway. They are far enough away not to notice her, and she's grateful for that. Shivering as the cool ocean breeze brushes over her exposed, sunburned skin, Jessa wades out a little further, watching muddy clouds form around her feet, feeling the wind rush through her hair. She bends down to scoop up a bit of water, washing the sandy grit off her hands, wishing it could cleanse the guilt in her heart just as easily. This time when she looks back at the couple, her heart cringes with jealousy, as well, resenting her own solitude. "You're a fine excuse for a Jedi," she tells herself bitterly, forcing herself to turn and walk along the water's edge in the general direction of Solo and his wife. "Oh, fine. Absolutely great," Han mumbles slightly. "Except for the whole ordeal yesterday in which I almost died, and Luke and his friends nearly died from some mandible-sprouting Jedi with not just one, but -two- double-bladed lightsabers, or something to that effect." He pauses, turning to peer at her with a bemused smile, "You know. The usual." He shrugs, "I think Luke got hurt, though. I just got the wind knocked out of my and got made unconscious for a few hours." "Lovely." Leia manages to avoid expressing absolute shock gritting her teeth as she fumes in reaction to Han's explanation, but even all the diplomatic tactics Bail taught her can't keep her jaw from knowwing with contained outrage. The burning in her eyes gets mixed with worry and compassion. "Are you really all right? Is Luke all right?" She catches a glimpse of Jessalyn out of the corner of her eyes and her spirit lightens, but is still tied down. "Is she all right?" "I'm fine, Leia. Fine. You know me," Han replies simply, smiling softly, reassuringly, "And I'm sure Luke is fine. I mean, he's Luke, you know?" And then his eyes catch sight of Jessalyn, and he contemplates quietly for a moment. The weird one that was having... well... whatever it was she was doing with Simon. "I don't know about Jess. She... well... I don't know. You'll have to ask Luke." "Or her." Leia wraps an arm around Han, genuinely relieved that he is at least his old self. After giving him an especially warm and tender smile, her gaze drifts to Jessalyn again. Shifting her one hand to Han's shoulder for support, she half hugs her legs to keep her center of gravity adjusted as she stands. "Even in the blazing daylight, this place can be gloomy." She brushes sand off her behind. "Want to go see if Jessalyn wants to get out of here?" "Sure thing, sweetcheeks," Han offers simply, standing, and brushing sand in a similar motion. Thusly, he wraps an arm around her, and begins goading her towards Jessalyn. "How have you been, Princess? Up to no good as usual?" He inquires lightly with a bemused smirk. Seeing them rise and approach her, Jessalyn picks up her steps, treading over the sand a bit awkwardly as the loose soil pulls at her trudging feet. She calls on the Force to help her achieve a measure of composure, only her eyes betraying any other emotion as she smiles pleasantly towards Han and Leia. "General Solo... Your Highness." She nods her head politely. "It's good to see you both. And intact, too." Her arms are stretched rather rigidly at her sides as she speaks. "Of course. I have half the Galaxy lined up to chew me out for having the New Republic insult them." There is a jest and lightness in Leia's tone, but also a grain of truth in it. They get nearer Leia's old friend. "I swear, Han, sometimes I feel like I'm running around in circles." Now, she projects her voice across the sand. "Jessalyn!" Leia's torso tries to subtly tug free of Han's arm. "Jessalyn." The second time is softer, more sensitive to the way Jessa holds herself back. Grinning slightly, Han lets Leia take her own pace towards Jessalyn, and he himself bobs his head in greeting. And there, he takes a sideline. Maybe he was bad luck to the woman. Maybe she was having unclean thoughts about Han, or something, which is why Simon decided to lash out on the woman and Han. Mmm. Who knew. How much time has passed since Jessalyn had seen Leia? It seemed a lifetime ago since the young Jedi had left on her search to find Luke, leaving behind his worried friends and family. She remembers the friendship she shared with the Jedi Master's sister, and a genuine smile spreads on her face as she meets the smaller woman and embraces her. "Leia," she says, dropping the formal tone, and then chuckling. "How about this, hmm? You have everyone here with you at once." Leia embraces Jessalyn likewise. She smiles pluckily back. "Not quite everyone, but this is pretty close." The words seem to flow out of her like she doesn't even recognize herself. "How are you?" Before things get disasterous, they slow to a more familiar rhythm. "I'm so sorry I couldn't help." Her eyes say that the last could be applied to many things that have happened recently. Jessalyn busies her hands at tying back her windblown hair into a loose tail behind her head as she takes a step back, the movements helping to mask any emotions showing on her face. "It's not your fault, Leia. I've survived," she says succinctly, giving a rueful shrug. "I'm still not exactly sure how I got here, but... I do know it was Cort Stasus and Simon Sezirok who rescued me from Valak. It was months later that I was finally conscious again, though." She blows out a breath, stuffing her hands down into her pockets. "Now that I'm back, there's a lot to be accomplished. I couldn't believe it when I heard about this new Death Star." Leia presses her lips together in a pensive frown when Jessalyn mentions the Death Star. "We're making progress against it. Slowly." After everything that can seem to go wrong on this planet, one of the last havens of sanity in the Galaxy, can one blame Leia for being careful with what she can tell Jessalyn in this setting? You never know when there might be a bug around the corner. Her eyes try to convey this in a flicker. In understanding, Jessa gives a small nod, as well as a quiet communication via the Force between them. She knows that caution is called for. "You know I want to help however I can, Leia. Promise that you'll keep me involved, all right?" Smiling, she tilts her head, studying the rangy Corellian standing just behind the princess. "I hope you've really been well, Leia. I know I've missed a lot. Luke is... well, I can tell he's changed." How or why she can only wonder, but the worry she conveys to Leia is real enough. "Why don't we team up? Go find it? And just blow it up?" Han offers bluntly, leaning on Leia casually. "I mean, we've done it before. This third time should do the trick, no?" As much as she doesn't want to see Jessalyn fall back into another coma as a result of messing around with Imperials and the Death Star, Leia replies gravely and truly to her friend, "I promise. And I need to see Luke soon." She glances around. This place still has a gloomy feel. "In the next couple of minutes, though, do you want to get off this beach? We can go get some icees?" Amused, Jessalyn gives Han a curious look, brows arching. But she answers Leia's question as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her bare feet digging deeper holes into the soft sand. "Sure, I could probably use a break from the sun. Is... Luke still in the hospital?" she asks worriedly, ashamed for not having checked in on him herself, but unable to face him yet in the state she's in. "Yeah, he was still there last I checked," Han simply states, still leaning on Leia. They didn't like his idea of saving the universe again. They were all a bunch of fuddy-duddies. He'd just go off with Chewie and be the salvation of the Universe himself. "Mistress Leia! Mistress Leia!" Servo mechanisms pound as the Goldenrod droid does his best to plow through the sand. His feet shuffle through the sand and, as he gets closer, he completes the sentence. "Mistress Leia, thank heaven I've found you. Master Luke sent me to find you, not an easy task on this miserable planet." Leia stands by while Jessalyn and Han exchange whatever glances they will, but she files away in her datebanks Han's itch to go out and blow something up. At the next mention of Luke, she gets a faraway look in her eyes. After a moment, she comes back to earth and gives Han a reassuring squeeze, in spite of some disappointment in her eyes. Then her head swivels to the sound of the droid's voice. "Threepio," she demands in that way of hers that still manages to sound polite. "Where is he?" "Not him again," Han whispers to Leia disgruntled, "I just got rid of him a few days ago." He frowns to himself, and waits to hear what the droid has to say. Threepio practically bursts his electronic seams with desire to answer, "Why, onboard the Mellenium Falcon of course." The droid's tone does reflect that, of course, Leia and Han should have both known that since C-3P0 was onboard the Falcon when they left, but humans are so illogical. "He requested for me to go find you and Captain Solo. And Master Tighe and Mistress Valios, if they were available." Relief flashes in Leia's eyes before Threepio can even respond. "I know," She responds resolutely to Threepio. After short, purposeful glance to Jessalyn and Han, she adds, "We're on our way." She takes steps to follow the droid. Han dittos.
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* Main Ring Corridor -- Millennium Falcon A circular passageway that runs the circumference of the ship, this corridor provides access to all the major areas of the _Millennium Falcon_. The walls are lined with dirty, off-white, upholstered padding interspersed with bulkheads and the occasional control panel; the illumination is faintly greenish. Luke is seated at the holochess table, injured foot propped up on the board. The injury is obvoiusly heavily bandaged beneath his black pant legs, yet none of the pain he must be feeling shows on his face. Instead, he smiles as each familiar face enters in and he barely resists the urge to stand. Leia has somehow found her way around the Falcon's ring to where Luke is seated. But it is a ring, so it's not very difficult to find anyone. Unless they're smuggling themselves, of course. Upon making eye contact with his familiar black garb, she rushes forward. Careful of his leg, she embraces his shoulders fondly. No words need pass between them. Han himself follows behind Leia shortly, a hand slipped onto his belt as he goes. "You know, Luke, one of these days, you're gonna get into a load of trouble, and I'm not going to be there to save your behind," He wags a finger at the Jedi Master beratingly. Jessalyn comes trudging up the ship's ramp last, behind even the dawdling Threepio. She follows General Solo and the princess, her hands stuffed down into her pockets, watching as they greet each other. She swallows and offers a smile of her own, standing purposefully on the perphery of this little intimate circle. "I hope you're feeling better, Luke," she offers in a kind voice. Luke smiles first to his sister, and then to Jessalyn. "I am fine, thank you for your concern." To Jessalyn he says, "And I hope you are recovering, as well." However, to Han he flips a lopsided grin. "As for you, my friend, you made a valiant effort, but perhaps now you'll listen when I warn you it's a Jedi Affair and stick to simply watching my back." Leia stands back to give Luke his personal space back and share him with the others in the room. She can't help but glance over many square inches of Luke's form, trying to ascertain the state of his health. Her practiced eye can tell that it really isn't awful, but she still needs to hear it from him. "How bad is it?" she asks her brother who has the bad habit of being a hospital patient. "Bah, I knew what I was doing. It was a distraction, you know?" Han offers, gesticulating wildly. "Besides, you're alive, aren't you? Not to mention the rest of your friends." He pauses. "Admit it. I saved your lives." And with that, he leans against what he was hoping would be Leia, only, Leia moved. Leaving Han to lay on the floor, propped up on his elbow. He meant to do that. Honest. Jessa shifts her weight uncomfortably when she meets Luke's gaze. "I was not injured, Master Luke," she reminds him in a calm voice, relying on the formal titles to give a little emotional distance. Her eyes are shaded, like a forest needing sunlight, and she looks away, preferring to let the family members carry on the bulk of the conversation. A distraction? Yes, he was, only the distraction was for Luke and that distraction had nearly cost them all their lives. Yet he doesn't press, leaving well enough alone, especially since the smuggler sees fit to unceremoniously dump himself on the floor. "It's not bad," he answers Leia. "I won't need a prosthetic, this time at any rate." He tries on a weak smile, wanting nothing more to re-assure her. "Wounds of the flesh are easily healed with enough time. Wounds of the soul are another matter," he speaks the last looking at the Jedi Knight, Luke knowing full well the extent of her injuries. Leia sighs and can only feel from Jessalyn's general bearing the fringes of what Luke eludes to. Time. Thest things take time... After that pause, she pecks her brother on the forehead. "I really hope you can get some rest, Luke." Then she rolls her eyes and kneels to help her husband up off the floor. "Blast it. I have some paperwork that really needs to get done. I kept putting it off all day while trying to find you all, but now I simply can't avoid it." A flicker of 'save me' flashes to Han from the eyes of the Princess who does, on occasion, tire of being a Councilor. "Leia, I'm taking you to Yavin. You're not doing -any- paperwork," Han orders as he dusts himself off casually. And he looks very stubborn right now. Jessa bends her head when she feels both the Skywalker twins assessing her for damage of the heart, catching her lip with her teeth. "I'll be all right," she assures them at last, once it seems that Han and Leia may be departing. A slight flicker of panic rushes through her belly at the thought of being left behind alone with the Jedi Master. "There's someone I should check on, too. Orson probably got a bigger bump on the head than he would like to admit." Luke stands, though the effort of doing so is visible on his face. Yet, the Force flows, giving him the strength to manage his pain; and so he stants, with barely a limp. "I will let you two get on with your business. Take care of him, Leia." He grins at the irony of the opposite to what he would have said a few weeks ago. "I would like to speak with this Orson, I have still not formally met your apprentice." "At least I can get a little bit done before we depart," Leia replies just as stubbornly to Han. "I am terribly sorry, everyone," she glances with slightly pained apologetic eyes to Jessalyn and Luke, "but duty calls." After passing a smile around to all of them, she departs for the bunk area.
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* Coronet Space Port - Coronet City This port is busy, like most, but here the hot breath of takeoff and the deep rumble of engines is closer, more of a feature of the port than an annoyance. The landing pads and small maintenance bunkers sprawl across a large open area open to the sky and surrounded by blast walls to protect the farmlands beyond. Pilots, engineers and techs, mostly natives, move among the hardware as if at home in the confusing and fast paced Port. A large complex off to the side houses control functions, transport authority offices, and the CorSec station. Jessalyn ducks beneath the underside of the _Millennium Falcon_, her spine already going rigid when she senses Luke's presence lurking nearby. She keeps her own aura somewhat subdued, though by no means masked, and walks at a leisurely pace towards him. "I'm sorry you haven't met Orson yet. Things have been... strange today. But I'll let him know that you would like to meet him." She keeps her voice cool and lofty, a quick smile accompanying a rigid control of her emotional shields. Luke nods simply. "Yes, I would. Perhaps tonight is not a good night after all, for even we Jedi need to rest." He senses the inner turmoil within Jessalyn, a familiar feeling dating back to his original conflict with his father. "I know partially how you feel," he offers. "Please remember, above all I am a friend and hope you feel comfortable talking to me when it is your time. Until then, May the Force be with you." Jessa gives Luke a curious look, not sure what to make of his demeanor, and unable to keep from wondering just how much he understood about what occured with Simon. "It's not really... an easy thing to talk about," she says uncertainly. "I'll see you later, Luke." She turns, looking back and forth through the crowd, and takes off at a rate that's just a little too fast.
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