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Thread: The Stowaway

  1. #121
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    The small group passed through two more encampments, their way through eased by Zela's help. The inhabitants of Scarif were a suspicious lot, and for good reason, she supposed. Life here was in no way easy, and sometimes a single meal was the difference between life and death. During their trek, Zela spoke of the raiders, and even cautioned against the Flesh-Eaters that roamed the wastes. The very thought that beings had been driven to consume one another was something that turned her lips downward in a disapproving frown, and s'Il turned a troubled gaze out toward the wastes that surrounded them.

    Even KHER walked with a strange gait, his inky black eyes turning to and fro as if expecting an attack.

    The longer that they traveled, the larger that Fellspire grew. In the near distance, the forms of a larger pocket of traders and squatters could be seen, having built a tent city of sorts. Brightly-colored coverings, earthen tones of sandstone brickwork, scavenged materials, and a scattering of bodies milling about were beginning to take more shape. And, in a way, it was beautiful and pure.

    Sounds and smells began to drift their way on the gentle breeze, and the Lupine slowed her pace slightly as she tried to take it all in. There was of course the scents of smoke and cooking food, but woven throughout all of that was a strange tinge of spice that she could not identify. It was enticing, and she turned to look at Zela, then Michael.

    He held a strange look that she found herself curious over, and it gave her pause. But, she pressed on.

    "Through death, life continues," the enticing scents were now rolling over them, and she hoped for him to see whatever good that he could in this ravaged world. She gestured to the smattering of colored tent coverings and sounds in the nearing distance.

    "... don't you think?"

  2. #122
    Michael's thoughts had turned inward during the trek, to what could be done to help Zela. The more she had shared of the hardships and dangers here the more he was certain this was no place for her, it was no place for anyone really. This wasn't life. This was survival, a desperate struggle and little else. There had to be something better for their new friend, for everyone who was abandoned here.

    He was distracted by his concerns when the group slowed and Captain s'Ilancy spoke to him to get his attention. He looked up, face still a mask of troubles - and nearly spoke immediately about the thoughts that plagued him when her question caught him by surprise and he was shook out of his internal monologue and suddenly there was life. His ears filled with the sounds of commerce, his nose filled with the smell of spices. He came to a standstill and found himself transfixed on what had sprung up out of the bones of this world.

    His brow knit and the discordance of it all set him in an uneasy state. "It seems..." He said trying to get a handle on the warring emotions and thoughts, "young." He finally settled on and almost immediately felt the need to chew his choice of words over in his head. If there was something here, something salvageable it was so early in he infancy of it's creation that it seemed at risk of dying out with even the slightest attack.

    "Forgive me, Captain s'Ilancy. This is all quite a lot for me to take in." Michael had experienced hardships, lived and struggled through scenarios he would wish on no other living thing, but the nature of this world. The death and loss here and it's seeming slow growth to attempt and be something more once again felt nearly insurmountable. It was surviving though, and starting to be something new. Through his uncertainty he felt something he hadn't in a long time. Hope.

  3. #123
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    "It is for me as well," she mused idly, letting her eyes track back to the scene before them. Beyond this tent city was Fellspire, which dwarfed the meager establishment of temporary shelters that had been erected. And yet, there was a strange sort of permanence that emanated from the hodge-podge of tents and hastily-constructed sandstone structures.

    "This place," she chose address Zela then, "... what is it called?"

  4. #124
    Still standing beside the red-head, Zela looked to the woman.

    "Most just call it 'The Commons'. Plenty of traders and scavengers set up shop here. There are more inside Fellspire, but the deeper levels inside are watched over by the Teks. No one really goes past the interior blast doors, since they're protected."

  5. #125
    Mike took the opportunity, with the Captain and Zela talking, to take in the area they had arrived in, these commons. The open air market felt oddly familiar to him, and he was certain he had encountered locations like this in the past. Sometime during his travels with Ky and his crew. They had seen so many worlds then, many the red-head couldn't even recall the name of. Big and small, Ky led the group around by his whims. Where ever he was certain the Force had led them he had taken them. Sometimes it led them to another new family member, like when they'd picked up Skye or Wil, other times it led them into trouble, like their final days together on Corellia.

    Whatever planet he had found himself on previously that reminded him of the market made him nostalgic, another brick down the memory lane that seemed to make up this trip. It felt like he was working backwards through all of this.

    He had started on Cloud City, then found himself stolen away by forces out of his control, and brought back to the overwhelming ghosts he had last experienced on Fey'dann. He'd seen people in need of a hand up from the gutter, just like he had been in Coruscant after Corellia, and now he found himself staring down the busy streets of a marketplace that took him right back to the days before that planet had taken his second family from him.

    How far would this path take him now that he was on it, and was he willing to keep following it in spite of just how uncomfortable it was beginning to make him feel. How aware of the person he had become he was now. How little of himself he still felt after all the scars of survival had taken their toll.

  6. #126
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    There were plenty of heads turning to watch the new arrivals, three bodies coming from along metal vein from some trader or scavenger encampment further away was always a cause for curiosity. Only, two looked far too clean to be inhabitants of Scarif; one at least looked the part.

    The low, constant buzz of chatter continued, with merchants doing business and buyers haggling down some price that they might've felt to be too high. It was the sound of a living creature, practically, the ebbing and flowing of conversation. Snippets could be picked out, and the rest blended together into almost a living thing that existed in the air all around.

    For her part, s'Il let her hands come together at the small of her back, one hand loosely holding the opposite wrist.

    "It seems that there is no shortage of life. A good thing to see, considering what happened."

  7. #127
    Mike had started to pick up on small bits of conversation, and beyond those he'd been able to tune in to the emotions surrounding him. There was far more... normalcy here than he'd expected. Considering the history of this place, of this world, he'd expected more despair, more morose. Instead it felt reminiscent of walking through the commerce centers of Cloud City, rife with equal parts disappointment and excitement.

    He thought about what he had called it before, 'Young.' That still felt apt. It was life, and it was growing, but it was in its infancy. This world had been burnt to nearly nothing, destroyed as fully as a planet could without simply ceasing to be, and yet it was recovering. Slowly, but surely. It almost felt like there was a lesson in all of this, something to be learned about rebirth. He'd be damned if he was smart enough to figure it out beyond a surface recognition of it, but it certainly felt like there was something here - and even that small revelation was enough to bring a smile to his face.

    "It's... rather amazing, if I'm honest."

  8. #128
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    Zela took them easily through the crowds, pockets of bodies huddled together around merchant stalls and trader tents while others simply milled about. Children wandered around, some even clutching tight to sticks of grilled meat or vegetables, occasionally taking a bite as they wove in and out of the legs of those who were taller. Each face here told mostly the same story, written on their features with a sandswept stylus. Hard edges, tanned skin, smudges of dirt, sand-crusted clothing... a myriad of small details that told the same general tale of harsh lives and dogged survival.

    "The signal is still active, yes?"

    It was a question directed to KHER, and the droid gave a rather human-looking nod.

    It is clear. Perhaps not as strong as when it started, but there is no mistaking it.

    "Any identity markers, yet?"

    No Ma'am.

    "Very well."

    A look to Michael, then to Zela.

    "We need to hurry."

    The other woman nodded, and led the way without fuss, bringing them closer to the great fallen structure.

  9. #129
    True to her word, Zela guided them through the Commons. She darted from one side to the other, trying to find the path of least resistance. Mostly it was easy - travelers like her were easy to pick apart from those who chose to live close to Fellspire. There was a strange need in the eyes of the Travelers; as though they were constantly trying to find the horizon through the tents and sandstone buildings. The passing stares she was used to by now, and largely ignored them, knowing that the scarring of her face was more than likely the reason heads turned in her direction.

    At first she had been self-conscious, spending months alone with her small tribe out in the deserts, but eventually the need to socialize had become too great, and Zela worked through her aversions to begin showing herself once more in the small hamlets and salvage yards that dotted the barren landscape of Scarif.


    Up ahead, a pair of guards leaned against a wall, their conversation slowing as they looked up to see the group of four approaching. One of them detached himself from the-hewn stone.

    "Travelers ain't allowed, right now."

    Zela would not be deterred; especially since successfully leading the Captain, her red-haired friend, and the strange droid to the Teks meant the medicines would be given to her.

    "They're from off-world," she gestured to the three, "... They need to see the Teks."

    "Teks don't see nobody."

    In the distance, the great blastdoors loomed large, and beyond them was the city proper of Fellspire.

    Zela had never been inside, and stories ran wild about what sort of treasures might be hidden away inside.

    "The Teks would want to see off-worlders, though," she pressed.

    Now the second guard pushed away from the wall, and both brandished their vibropikes; curious weapons that seemed to be constructed from scrap metal and spare parts more than anything.

    "Said no, Traveler."

    There was a moment of slight helplessness that flashed in her single eye then, and Zela felt her features draw up into a pained expression.

    "Please... I -"

  10. #130
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    This was getting them nowhere, and s'Il found herself stepping forward. She moved past Zela, and with a dismissive wave to the air, the Lupine gave a small gesture with two figners.

    "The Teks will see us," she spoke evenly as her call to the Force around them was answered in kind. The pikes were lowered, and the guards gave up ground to her as she continued to advance.

    Confusion could be seen on their faces, as though they could not truly understand why they had just denied the four entry.

    "The Teks will see you."

    And still she kept her forward pace steady.

    "You're sorry for delaying us, yes?"

    "Yes Ma'am," still they backed away, until once more they found themselves leaning against the wall, ".. our apologies."

    "Very good."

    Now she smiled, a genial expression that was turned to her comrades even as she beckoned them all to follow her the rest of the way to the blastdoors.

    "Shall we?"

  11. #131
    Mike watched it all transpire with interest, he'd seen the act before, of course, Ky, the Sith, others in his crew, he'd even managed to pull it off a time or two before - but the practiced smoothness of it, the confidence she clearly had with her skill. He'd be lying if he didn't admit to a subtle pang of jealousy in his gut. Put into practice his skill in the Force had always leaned internal. Reinforcing and strengthening his body and muscles, using it to coerce others, or to move objects were gifts that even with numerous attempts and practice he had struggled to even manifest.

    Not that he'd ever had a proper teacher on those matters. Kyashi had been too busy collecting followers and having fun, and every attempt to self-train had ended in the same frustrations. He faultered for just a half-step before managing to pull himself out of his own head on the issue and following the captain with a nod.

  12. #132
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    Taking the lead from Zela, s'Il drove forward into the 'city' proper. Fellspire was a vibrant place, and while there was certainly life and activity outside of the walls, inside was an even larger hub of energy and flow. The crowds were thicker, with vendors holding up grillsticks with various meats skewered on them, and others called to the shoppers while holding up fruits and small bags of brightly colored spices. There were handmade items being sold as well, and clothing that looked as though it had been spun from the brightest colors in the galaxy. There was still dirt, but there was also a bit more refinement to be found here. It was loud, it was busy, and it was as though Fellspire was a thriving beacon on a crippled world.

    "Ta cha! Ta cha! Kai siu shashu!"

    "Omagai! Dao cha kai zho!"


    Two voices seemed to rise above the rest, and s'Il turned to look at two Weequay vendors who held up live, wriggling sand eels and armor-covered desert burrow-snails that let out small clicks as they vainly squirmed in the rough hold that held them aloft. The table they stood behind was a veritable bounty of fresh-cut vegetables, and a boiling pot of deep orange-colored broth sat on a portable burner. Another wide bowl sat to the side, full of dried pucks of translucent noodles.

    Zela too, had sent her eye to the two, and there was an unmistakable hunger in her gaze as she took in the contents of the stall.

    With a look to Zela first, the Lupine turned her attentions to Michael.

    "When in Fellspire, yes?"

  13. #133
    The fiery-haired young man gave a uncommitted shrug in response to the question, a slight quirk to one eyebrow as he did so. He wasn't going to pass up the opportunity for a meal, let alone one that could be used as a momentary respite from their travels. It would give them time to assess and plan their next movements, and possibly get to know their new friend, Zela a bit better.

    "I could eat."

    He finally uttered the short sentence in case there had been any language lost in his own relaxed movements. He was starting to pick up small bits of what he thought was the captain's nature. A practiced refinement to much of her language and action. His own tone and style slipped into the casual with frequency - a personality quirk he'd never shaken from his youthful indiscretions. Even if he was sure to address his employers as Mr. Prent and Ms. Sasseeri and even the Captain by her title, he was still the same smart mouthed kid who acted far too personal with the people around him, and he didn't want to risk the confusion that responding with only a non-verbal answer could potentially cause.

  14. #134
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    A silent, approving nod, and the Lupine returned her attentions to the two Weequay. Three fingers were held up, and the duo gave enthusiastic nods as they set about the task of preparing three portions for their newest customers.

    One of the sand eels was slung down onto a thick cutting board, and a cleaver soon followed to swiftly sever the neck from the rest of the body. What followed was a flurry of butchery skills on full display, as one of the Weequay with an intricately woven topknot of hair decorated with colorful beads and bright ribbon strands, separated the eel into three lengths. He butterflied each piece, folding each one out and pressing it flat before sprinkling on a liberal amount of spices onto the white meat. And then each was placed skin-up on the fiery grill that rested behind the counter.

    The other Weequay, a grinning man who moved with practiced and quick motions, filled three bowls with a puck of noodles each, then splashed in portions of flavored oil, bright green akai leaves, a soft-boiled hawkbat egg in each, and crispy fried bread squares. Over all of this was ladled the broth from the steaming pot. And another few handfuls of fresh vegetables were put atop all of it.

    Moments later each length of sand eel was carefully slid into each bowl.

    "Ocha kato sami," Topknot declared triumphantly.

    Keying a chit, s'Il handed the small slip over. It was accepted with a gracious nod, and once three rough-hewn wooden spoons were swiftly pushed into the bowls, Topknot gestured to a nearby table.

    "Lalo akimata sua'ba."

    A nod of thanks, and s'Il gently picked up her bowl.

    "Let us sit," she gently urged.

  15. #135
    Mike didn't need any more of an invitation than that and found himself scooping up the bowl of soup? It might have been soup. Whatever it was it smelled absolutely fantastic, and Mike quickly made his way to a seat across from the Captain and next to their guide. He had already taken his first mouthful, warm and full of spice and flavor. Whatever it was, soup or not, it was delicious.

    The red-head became all too aware that in his rush to sample the meal he'd perhaps been impolite, he sat the bowl back down with a lopsided and awkward smile and coughed gently into his hand. When it came down to it, even under the tailored suit he'd been dressed in all those cycles ago when he first came under Ms. Sasseeri's employ he was still just a scruffy street thug with a veneer of polish splashed over top.

    "It's good." He said in a quiet chuckle, and then promptly silenced himself to let the Captain talk. This was her show after all.

  16. #136
    Just as quick as the redhead, Zela had cradled her bowl as though it was the most precious thing on this sand-burned world, and sliding down into a chair, she hovered her face over the lazily rising steam. The aromas were fresh and comforting, and without a second thought she brought a spoonfull of broth and a few of the vegetables up to her mouth. A quick blow, and she tucked in. It was hot, but she was used to having to eat hot food fast, and with a few quick intakes of cool air between her lips, she gave a few swift chews before finally swallowing.

    With a nod in agreement to the man's assessment, Zela took another spoonful into her mouth. This time she chewed a little slower, going over in her mind the interaction that had transpired to allow them passage through the great blastdoors that kept Fellspire apart from the surrounding favelas and markets.

    "How did you... "

    How to even ask that sort of question?

    "Did the guards... "

    Her spoon gently prodded at the chunk of grilled sand eel resting along the side of her bowl.

    "... Are you-" her voice lowered then, so that only those at the table could hear, "... are you a sahju*?"








    *Sahju(saw-jhoo) - witch

  17. #137
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    Her spoon was halfway up when the whispered question came, and s'Il blinked as she let her mismatched gaze shift to Zela. The girl's word was most certainly foreign, but the context she'd spoken it in was enough for the Lupine to ascertain the general meaning.

    She smiled in reassurance, and finally took a bite of her food. It was warm, and the flavors wholesome and hearty.

    "I am an Alliance Captain," she answered.

    Which wasn't really an answer all the same.

  18. #138
    Mike had opted to really tuck into the spiced soup, which was filling a void in his stomach that his earlier headache and stress had created by wearing him out. It was best to let them talk among themselves without pushing into the conversation, but found himself nearly choke down his spoon in surprise at how deftly the Captain had negotiated the question.

    He gave a little cough, waving off several pairs of concerned eyes before catching his breath and setting his spoon down in his mostly finished bowl, a small amount of broth and vegetable left to cool at the bottom.

    Jedi or not, she definitely talked like someone used to steering a conversation around uneasy questions of ability or title - and Mike was reminded of their first meeting. Of the questions that had come up from Mr. Prent in the wake of the situation. How he'd tried to talk around the answer without denying it. It had been a necessary skill in the Empire, and now wondered if it were the same in the Alliance. Yet another question for later between the Captain and himself, as the truth was he didn't know a Force-blessed thing about the Alliance. The Empire pumped out it's propaganda, but he'd always known it was just that. Same bantha piss they spouted about Force adepts.

  19. #139
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    A concerned look to Michael, but her attentions were soon enough turned once more to Zela.

    "A seemingly flippant answer I know, but it is the truth."

    Dipping her spoon once more into her soup, she made sure to take up as much vegetables as she could before bringing it up to her mouth and eagerly partaking of it.

    She swallowed, leaned back in her seat, and then sent her gaze to Michael. She couldn't help the easy smile that spread across her features.

    "Michael and I... " a gesture to KHER, "... and KHER here, we are only trying to bring hope to Scarif."

  20. #140
    An Alliance Captain. A being trying to bring hope.

    Zela made a skeptical face as she brought her steaming spoonful of soup up to her lips. She gave a quick blow to cool the broth, then shoved it past her lips.

    She relished the taste while at the same time pulling a critical expression. She turned to look at Michael.

    "True, yes?"

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