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While on the outside, he appeared calm and collected, he was anything but on the inside. Memories of what he had seen on Coruscant haunted him, though it had been weeks previous. He remembered the visage of smoldering buildings ravaged by the terrors of war - the buildings of what once was one of the most prosperous worlds in the Republic. The streets were so full of life, and yet on that day so full of death and destruction. It held a bitter irony in Gregory's mind, eclipsed only by the near-death experience he endured in trying to escape Coruscant. He could still feel the burning at his side, and the lightheaded feeling of blood loss now and again. The pain made him close his eyes, which offered little respite as the sounds of blaster fire filled his sixth sense. The memory was so real - as if he were reliving it upon the shores of the lake. He could smell the scent of carbon scoring, and hear the cries of pain as his protectors gave their lives to keep him safe. He could hear the muffled cries of those urging him and his entourage onward, and of the sound of a lightsaber cutting through armor, tendon, and bone. No matter how unpleasant the memory was, the Supreme Chancellor - despite all of the fortitude and resolve he projected to those who observed him, felt altogether helpless and alone.
Beads of sweat rolled down his brow even though a nice breeze billowed past him. The only thing that managed to bring him back to his senses was the gentle voice of his aide, Clara.
"They are here to see you, Chancellor." And indeed, 'they' were. A group of senators had arranged a meeting with their leader at his lakeside retreat. It was supposed to be an unofficial meeting to pay their respects and see how the Chancellor was doing, but Gregory knew better than to believe that. Their leader had almost died, and one of their most important worlds was lost to the Sith Brotherhood. He shifted his weight, revealing a slight grimace as he applied pressure on his left leg while turning to face his aide. Despite his best efforts, it was obvious he was unsuccessful in hiding his pain from Clara, who gave him a sympathetic smile. To her credit, she wordlessly left him to make his own way back to the lake house. Although he appreciated her efforts to make him comfortable, Gregory was a proud man. If he couldn't make it on his own strength to greet his guests, he might as well call off the meeting. And so he made his way to the lake house, his plain white shirt and grey pants billowing in the breeze as he slowly made his way, cane in hand.
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