(If you would like to join in this, please PM me, and we'll work something out.)

After landing on Coruscant, Istina was something of a wraith to the rest of the Temple. As she was primarily interested in healing at this point, wanting nothing to do with a lightsabre or with fighting itself ever again, she'd become a regular around the Medical areas of the Temple, helping the Healers with their tasks and staying quiet.

On other days, she'd sit in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, listening to the water falling and splashing. The room was blanketed in the Light, and the ripples shivered not only through the water but through the Force. She felt somewhat normal on those days, as the ripples would sooth the still aching hole left by her dead master.

On the whole, she seemed to be releasing her grief well; she smiled and would laugh, but to those who could tell, joy had left her soul, and she was left with something like a hollow within her. It was close to a void, but not quite. She'd not quite given up yet, but didn't know how to handle what she'd been through.

Master Nytrau had been a great help to her, though he'd been distant the last few days. It wasn't like she was constantly looking for him and his soothing words and kind smiles; but she'd enjoyed the instances where he'd given them. She'd spoken to Master Yoda but once after they'd landed. Her childhood instructor never had seemed so distant in his serenity.

The thought had brought her back to her memories of simpler days of her childhood, and she'd found herself among the younglings more and more as the days wore on. They were so innocent, it tore her heart out. So many were dying outside, off the planet; she herself would die to keep them ignorant of those horrible things, to keep them from ever experiencing the horrible feeling of loss and grief and sadness.

She'd gone to where their rooms had been. One entire day had been spent sitting on the couch and looking out the window and remembering. For one entire day, she'd seen her memories of these rooms around her as if they were manifestations of the Force, or ghosts who wept and mourned the loss of any new memories by endlessly replaying themselves over and over again. As if by doing so Master Irkhaniel could take form from them and everything would be made right again; at least in that respect.

That's where she was at the moment. She was staring through the windows of the rooms, surrounded by the familiar smells and solemn ghosts. Master Irkhaniel was standing there as he usually did at that time of day, to watch the sunset. In the glare of the fading light Istina felt that she could just walk over and be beside him once again.

Through the corner of her eye, a girl walked past the couch where she sat, and took her place by her teacher and mentor. Tears stung her eyes as the memory froze there, just like time actually should have. But she continued to stare at the sunset, and see something that wasn't there.

She never heard the chime, nor did she respond when the door opened.