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TUCKED IN A BLANKET with a steaming mug of tea cradled in both of her hands, Indira focuses on the way the white spirals of water vapor expand and dissolve into the surrounding air as she waits for the general to take a seat. She lifts the cup to her lips, blowing softly on the Alderaanian drink before taking a sip. Somehow, its warmth seems to spread throughout her entire body and succeeds in chasing away some of the foreboding chill that has settled into her bones.
"Feeling better?" General Organa asks, settling down in the armchair across from Indira. A robe is draped over her shoulders now and her hair has been swept back into a hasty braid. She looks far more put together than Indira feels.
"A little," she says hoarsely, clearing her throat when she realizes just how rough it sounds.
The general gives her a sympathetic smile, taking a sip from her own mug before leaning forward and clasping her hands together. "Now," she begins, observing Indira carefully, "you want to tell me more about that dream of yours?"
"It wasn't a dream," Indira says sharply, setting her cup down. She realizes after the fact that it was perhaps a bit rude to speak to her commanding officer in such a blunt manner. "Sorry. I just ... I don't know how to explain it, but I know it wasn't a dream. It was real."
General Organa nods, brow furrowing. "Poor choice of words on my part," she replies, amending for her misstep. "This vision, then. What did you see?"
Taking a shaky breath to calm herself, Indira launches into her account of the bloody scene she'd witnessed during her sleep, leaving out no details in the process. Her voice wavers at times, threatening to give out as she recounts the horrors she had seen. Leia listens with an impassive facial expression, though she flinches slightly when Indira mentions the masked man with the crimson colored sword. Other than that, the general keeps a still and silent countenance. Her face betrays no emotions as she listens to the younger woman speak.
