Adrestia sat angrily in her chair. She was not used to sitting still; she was used to sailing through the stars and nebulas of the frontiers of Wild space, for months on end with no one outside her crew in sight. She was used to the warm hum of the starships main drive, through the cold durasteel deck. As a girl and then as a young women it comforted her and kept her from feeling lonely.

Now that she was tied to this planet; locked inside this building, she stared at the floor. A warm carpet was stretched across the surface of the floor, but the carpet was dead. It didn’t pulse with life, the warmth was in the fabric not from the heart of the structure and there were no vibrations to sing to her, and rock her gently to sleep the way the engines of a starship still seem to, even today.

So the Gray Jedi Equite sat, in the middle of the dark early morning hours; covered in a cold, sticky, sour, sweat. As she stared at the lifeless floor; her eyes glazed over, dried and became bloodshot.

Starring at the individual strands of the carpet that sprung from the floor in wayward fashion, as if randomly and without purpose; she said out loud toward the floor, in the empty room, “Shab!” she exclaimed.“If this election isn’t the death of me, you will be.”

She said this toward the floor as her fingers traced the outline of a dagger located in the waistband of the small of her back but then she suddenly realized that stabbing the carpet did sound crazy. Questioning her sanity she stood and existed the room in an exaggerated huff.