Nausea. Persistent and everlasting, no matter how hard Tionne tossed and turned in the bunk bed she was assigned to; who could ever sleep after the dreams she had been having for the past twenty years whilst incarcerated in her carbonite grave? Slumber would not ensue, so the entirety of the night was spent staring into the ceiling, reminiscing and processing all that happened earlier that day. The world she knew was no longer - the Knight instead woke into a shattered galaxy, tortured by conflict and war, with the remnant of the once proud Jedi Order in hiding.

It was their pride and overconfidence that lead to this outcome in the first place; however, Tionne was never destined to be part of this scenario, this crescendo that wiped them out a quarter of a century ago. Both triumphant and sad, the Coruscanti Jedi just lay there with mind afloat. Her thoughts rushed to her Corellian student and his whereabouts, then to her friends and family - none of them could she feel in the Force. Certainly, there were palpable Force signatures nearby, but none of them were familiar. It was only in the earliest of mornings that the restless mind allowed for a dreamless nap, only to be woken by laughter in the corridor outside of the confined quarters.

Finding no point in remaining in bed, the Knight rose from the sheets and crouched down to pull her black buckle boots on. With her eyes in level with the cabinet, the redhead noted her weapon where she left it last night. The finely crafted hilt was still in good shape, the luminescent metallic cylinder still untouched by the passage of time. Without any reluctance, she scooped it up and attached it to her belt, then erected herself to full height, glancing in the mirror briefly.

Tionne had not aged a single day since she froze herself in carbonite in a desperate try to avoid fate Palpatine installed for all Jedi; her pale visage was still as fresh and wrinkle-free as it was in the time she fought in the Clone Wars. Flicking a few stray locks away from her face, the Knight headed for the door, apparently not too amused by what she saw in the mirror. Most women would rejoice, but Thanewulf was not most women. Her own youth was a logical fallacy that still needed explaining, as soon as she would get her paws on some scientific equipment. However, she needed a drink first.

It was rather easy to find a bar aboard any ship; it was the place all officers gravitated to exercise social skill. The Coruscanti merely followed the chatter to a large metallic door that opened with a dampened hiss, revealing a spacious chamber with a bar and tables - visibly less cramped than the rest of the ship. Lifting a lofty ginger brow, Tionne proceeded inside, heavy boots clomping against the metallic floor. After scanning the perimeter from the corner of her eye, the Knight hopped onto a stool next to a tall man, then leaned over to put her elbows on the counter. Her long ginger hair fell over her back and shoulders, its density almost completely covering her upper body, while curly ends dangled from the side.

''Beer. And a shot of whiskey.'' the woman commanded, eyeing the serving droid that diligently wiped a glass to perfection.
''Right away, Master Thanewulf.'' it responded, reaching out for a mug.
''Gossip surely travels fast around here... Master Thanewulf.'' the Knight said to herself, mimicking the metallic voice of the droid in the last part. It seemed as if everybody had been informed of her presence here.