𝘚𝘈𝘓𝘜𝘛𝘌→𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩

tipoca city.

ALORA NERO FELT a great deal of unease as the Havoc Maurauder drew closer to the landing pad. The pouring rain and gloominess was fitting for her, however, and she was already feeling a sense of belonging. She wouldn't want to say anything, considering just how happy the clones had seemed to finally be home.

"Do you think they missed us? I bet they missed us. Wait till they see who's with us!" Wrecker was rambling on continuously, the excitement filling up inside of him the closer he got to being able to walk on his home planet once more.

Alora was staring out the window, a visible ponder in her eyes. She was trying to understand why she was feeling the way she was in that instant. Being on the planet—she felt odd. The girl never mentioned it, however, because she couldn't quite explain how it felt; she felt clouded.

"Will I be welcomed here?" She looked over at Tech, who was shutting down the ship.

He pushed his glasses up after they slid down the bridge of his nose, "I don't see why not. After all, you are one of us now. I am certain they'll welcome the idea of having a Jedi-" He stopped himself, momentarily, before speaking again more carefully, "A..person of your skill set, added to our team."

Alora knew he meant no harm in calling her a Jedi. She didn't know what she wanted to be called. All the girl knew was that she did not want a part in the Jedi Order anymore; that was that. Besides, it was nice being welcomed into their team with, seemingly, open arms. Even Crosshair didn't show any signs of disagreement. And that was a surprise.

"Come on, Alora!" Wrecker said, coming over to grab Alora by her hand. He pulled her down the ramp, and onto the landing pad, they were in a hanger. They were now in Tipoca City.

Alora couldn't help but smile at the big man's enthusiasm. He was happy, but suddenly, he groaned. "It's always raining!"

"And you always complain about it." Crosshair sneered behind him, resulting in a pretty hard shove from Wrecker.

Alora pulled the hood of her robe above her head, as her and the men walked briskly into the building. It was interesting, to say the least. She had worked with countless clones before, but she never seen where they came from. Looking around, she saw clones of different ages. She knew they were all engineered to mature faster than most human species, two times as fast to be exact. But something about the innocence of the younger clones, made a great sense of sadness wash over it. They would all be exposed to the horrible ways of this war; whether they want it or not. All that being said, as she walked further into the place, she felt surges of the force within her. From none other than the Dark Side. Being so close to Count Dooku, she could never forget the feeling....

"Uhh.. She's doing the thoughtful staring thing again." Wrecker's boisterous voice broke Alora out of her small trance, as Tech was snapping his fingers in her face to get her attention.

Once her eyes adverted to his quickly, Tech rose an eyebrow. "We are at our barracks now."

Echo quickly pushed past Tech. "Please, commander. Mind the mess."

Alora nodded, before walking inside, followed by the rest of the men. "You don't have to call me commander anymore." She said softly, to which Echo only grumbled a response.

Looking around, the place was quite a mess. Not terrible, but still, nothing Alora was used to. In the Jedi temple, the padawan's barracks were always clean and tidy. And as she became a knight with more freedom, she kept her living area's neat. But for some reason, the carefree sense in this room was nicer to Alora.

"I'll get the wall!" Wrecker exclaimed, before he began to carve tally marks into the wall. She watched as he carved seven marks. "Eight- I-I mean seven successful missions!" Alora knew that the eighth probably would have been that recent one, but it couldn't be the furthest from success..

"Have you gone that many missions without returning home?" She asked, slowly sitting down on a large crate of, only the maker, knows what.

"We have not returned home in.." He sighed, "A very long time." At that, Alora frowned.

Wrecker walked over to his side of the barracks, setting his helmet down on his small cot. He began moving things around, becoming quite frantic. "Where is it?" He ripped the sheet off of the cot, "Where's my Lula?"

Alora furrowed her eyebrows, looking over at Crosshair, who was leaning next to the crate she sat upon. He looked down at her and rolled his eyes. "His.. tooka doll."

Dismissing Crosshair's annoyed tone, Alora perked up, looking around the room quickly, in hopes of spotting it. "I-I have a tooka doll.. It's.. at the Jedi Temple, however." After a moment, the girl stood up, lifting the lid of the crate she was sat on. She then smiled. On top of piles of clothes, there Lula the tooka doll sat. She was maroon and black, as Alora had since observed, seemed to be the men's signature colors. She lifted up the dolls. It was a lot larger than her own, and it was definitely worn, but it was soothing nonetheless. "I can see why you were wanting to find it so quickly. Here you go, Wrecker." She carried it over to him, and he excitedly snatched it out of her hands. Seeing the big man so happy over something so small, made her smile.

"We might want to run your presence here by some people, Alora.. But we can do that later." Tech says, slowly sitting down on his cot. He had taken off his armor at that point, wearing only his black under suit. She could tell by the way he was moving that his muscles were sore. He leaned back, closing his eyes. "I am too tired."