The Citadel Cantina is located on the second level of the Arcona Citadel. The bar itself is small on the surface, but possess an expansive selection thanks to a clever servos-operated storage system built into the underside of the bar. A bartender only need punch in what drink they require (other than the typical stock) and within a minute the bottle is distributed transparisteel display panels. Relaxed, soothing music plays over the speakers, and a big-screen display terminal with access to the holonet sits across from a series of comfortable lounge chairs and stools.

The Cantina is full-service and is manned by a gruff, one-eyed Rodian named Mick. Mick is a grumpy, former sergeant who served in the Arcona Armed Forces years and years ago. He goes about his business with a series of grunts, gestures, and monosyllabic dialogue. Though a man of few words, he's a genius of alcoholic beverages and mixology. Mick has a very strict rule about no fighting or brawling within the Cantina. The mess hall, on the other hand, is a different story.

The Cantina opens up into a dedicated mess-hall that can hold up to a hundred sentients before it starts to feel claustrophobic. Open at all hours, the mess-hall has been sanctioned as an acceptable area for members to settle aggressions and other frustrations. The tables are all firmly bolted into the halls floor to avoid being thrown over, and are crafted out of durable material that has held it’s own throughout the years. At the far end of the mess-hall there is a pair of double-doors that lead to the kitchen and storage area. The mess-hall is maintained by a full staff of droids, and occasionally a new recruit who has earned the ire of the Rollmaster.

Vorsa had been given several days to explore the Arconan Citadel, or at least the parts of it that she was permitted to see. It was her third day there as an ambassador for Clan Odan-Urr. The signing of the Dajorra-Yhi Concordat meant that they - the two Clans - would join in talks more often now. The non-aggression pact detailed as much and Vorsa was here to accompany the representatives of New Tython’s trade guild and the Kotahitanga-Unity Defense Force officials holding meetings with their counterparts in the Citadel. But more than anything she was here of her own accord, volunteering for this mission, to make sure the Concordat was being upheld. The Arconans - Atyiru aside - still felt odd to her, even if their intentions were mostly honest.

She marched through the Citadel towards the cantina where she and Turel were supposed to meet. She hadn’t seen him since they arrived, him being busy with administration and business of his own. They could finally catch up properly, and she would get a feel for the surroundings he had been living in for the past year.

The Citadel itself was monumental and fitting for a Clan professing to be ruled by the “Shadow Lady”. A monarchy, of sorts. Or better yet an oligarchy, since Atyiru seemed to share at least some of her power with her Clan. Quite different from the New Tythonian form of government where the Jedi acted as advisers to nations and keepers of the peace, rather than a ruling body. Still, it was an experience and she took in every bit of information she could.

Finally she reached the small cantina. She covered her face with the hood of her poncho and entered as silently as she could, trying not to draw too much attention. Several looks turned her way, mostly grimaces and frowns, but she felt no danger from them. Approaching the bar near the far right corner, she sat down on a stool and patiently waited for the Rodian bartender to come and address her.

“Hrmph?” the Rodian grunted moments later, approaching her after cleaning some dishes.

“Water.” Her reply was simple and direct, and yet it seemed to baffle the alien. He made an expression that, among Rodians, passed for “raising an eyebrow”. A silent, quizzical grunt followed but when Vorsa didn’t repeat herself he just shrugged, before bringing her a semi-clean glass with tap water in it. The Neti took a sip, mimicking how humanoids usually drank their beverages. In truth, she didn’t even need to drink. She could simply place her hand in the glass and absorb the liquid like that; but, while she was in foreign lands she acted accordingly.

She waited for a good half-hour, not even drinking half of her glass. The bartender seemed to get more and more annoyed by the minute. No beverage meant no pay, and no pay meant a bad customer. She felt the tension in the air thicken with every passing moment. Even the patrons sitting at the tables - some mundanes, some Force users by the sense of them - started looking her way more and more. An unknown Jedi in their cantina must have been a spy of some sort, after all.

Just as she was about to stand up and leave, and hopefully avoid a confrontation, loud footsteps sounded from the front door.

“Ah, there you are, Vorsa.” Turel walked in with his usual aloof swagger. He passed the patrons without giving them a glance and waved at the Rodian. “The usual, my friend.” The alien replied with a nod, poured some sort of orange alcoholic beverage into a glass and passed it to the human.

“I was beginning to wonder if you would join me, Turel.” Vorsa smiled and greeted her comrade fondly.

“Well, work’s been tough. You know how it is.” Sorenn winked and bowed slightly as he sat down next to her.

Vorsa visibly relaxed in Turel’s familiar presence and unconsciously scooted her chair closer to his. The Human took a swig of his whiskey and savored the sensation of warmth in his chest as the liquor went down. He too relaxed in Vorsa’s presence, though for a different reason. Turel was a regular at Mick’s tavern, all the Arconans present knew exactly who he was and many looked on him with subdued contempt. He had betrayed the Shadow Clan in the eyes of many, and no alliance or proclamation from the Shadow Lady could undo that. The strangeness and unstated hostility faded into the background as the two Jedi focused on each other.

“So, how are you finding our dreary little citadel?” Turel inquired between sips of his drink.

Vorsa paused for a moment as she searched for the precise words to use. “Impressive, yet very cold.” The Arcona Citadel bustled with life but it had a distinct aura in the Force from the continuous presence of so many dark side practitioners. It wasn’t quite to the degree of Antei or Korriban but there was a cloud of residual energy that a light side oriented Jedi would feel.

“You get used to it.” Turel remarked matter of factly as he absently shifted his glass in his hand.

The Neti remained silent despite wanting to refute her companion’s assertion. She had seen first hand the difference between the man who left New Tython to join Arcona and the man who returned broken after the “Great War” on Korriban. His loyalty to his Arconan comrades had come at a high price, he had wandered too far into his own darkness. There were some things one wouldn’t and shouldn’t “get used to.”

Turel noticed Vorsa’s silence and felt her mood shift through the Force. He set his glass down and glanced over in a futile effort to ascertain an expression on the Neti’s face. Instead of making eye contact his gaze got stuck on the Neti’s bust line. He hadn’t notice before but his master seemed more, feminine, than when he last saw her. In the time he had known her, Vorsa had adjusted her form at various times, but something was different now. Turel suddenly became conscious of where his gaze had stopped and reflexively faced forward and focused intently on his drink.

Vorsa pretended not to notice her comrade’s odd behavior and sudden rush of color to his face, though she did grin ever so slightly. “How have you been, since you’re return to Selen?”

Relieved to have the silence broken and something to take his mind off his master’s bust size, Turel replied. “Sista, um, I mean Atiryu has kept me busy with various projects as interim Quaestor which I can’t really discuss. You know how it goes.” The Neti nodded with understanding and the Human continued, “I’d be lying if I said it was entirely easy. The accords help with some of the more outspoken accusations of treason, but the looks of contempt I get from some say it all.” He sighed and returned to his drink.

“What about those close to you? Atyiru speaks very highly of you still.”

“Most of those who I would call my friends were very worried when I left and happy to see that I’m alright now.” Turel shrugged.

Before Vorsa could reply their conversation was interrupted by a gruff, yet obviously male voice behind them. “Oh look, it’s the Jedi traitor taking his Jedi whore for a night out!”

Turel took a swig of his whiskey and slowly set the glass down. He raised his left hand in a “hold on” gesture to Mick behind the bar who was already reaching for his scatter gun. The Human turned around to face a small group of soldiers standing behind him. “What did you say? I’m not quite sure I heard you right.” He inquired with a slight smirk.