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In a galaxy, far far away...
Aug. 20th, 2013 03:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fatedchaos[The Jedi are all dead, the galaxy has said.
It's something Vanessa's been told most of her life, and considering they've been at war that entire time, too, she doesn't have much reason to not believe it. They'd tried to take her once, when she had been seven, but then Revan had returned.
It's funny how details like that come back automatically in the most inconvenient of times. A Jeedai the Exchange had called her, except no. That wasn't right. There weren't any Jedi left, just a handful of misfits with no order and no masters and barely any galaxy left to protect.
She bites her lip as she slips onto one of the docking bays on Nar Shaddaa, practically invisible to anyone who would look at her. Some might call it the Force - she just calls it a necessary survival skill that she hates using. It's inconsistent, doesn't always work, and besides, she'd feel the Force, wouldn't she?
(She feels the Force, even now, with the loud din of the planet yelling at her all at once - not in pain or misery, just overcrowded and sorrowful and teeming with life. It's been harder to concentrate here than any other planet Vanessa's been to.)
The young woman licks her lips. There's one ship here, battered and bruise the same as the rest of this place - the moon, the people, the galaxy, the Jedi she's being mistaken for and hunted down because of.
She has no real idea if the man she finds is part of the crew, but he looks like he works on a ship of some sort, and even if he doesn't, he can point her in the right direction. Or he can turn her in for a few credits more than he's probably ever seen in his life, says a miserable voice in the back of her mind as she stares at the red-haired man.
Now or never, Vanessa.
She steps out in front of him seemingly out of nowhere, a pleading look on her face.] I need your help.
It's something Vanessa's been told most of her life, and considering they've been at war that entire time, too, she doesn't have much reason to not believe it. They'd tried to take her once, when she had been seven, but then Revan had returned.
It's funny how details like that come back automatically in the most inconvenient of times. A Jeedai the Exchange had called her, except no. That wasn't right. There weren't any Jedi left, just a handful of misfits with no order and no masters and barely any galaxy left to protect.
She bites her lip as she slips onto one of the docking bays on Nar Shaddaa, practically invisible to anyone who would look at her. Some might call it the Force - she just calls it a necessary survival skill that she hates using. It's inconsistent, doesn't always work, and besides, she'd feel the Force, wouldn't she?
(She feels the Force, even now, with the loud din of the planet yelling at her all at once - not in pain or misery, just overcrowded and sorrowful and teeming with life. It's been harder to concentrate here than any other planet Vanessa's been to.)
The young woman licks her lips. There's one ship here, battered and bruise the same as the rest of this place - the moon, the people, the galaxy, the Jedi she's being mistaken for and hunted down because of.
She has no real idea if the man she finds is part of the crew, but he looks like he works on a ship of some sort, and even if he doesn't, he can point her in the right direction. Or he can turn her in for a few credits more than he's probably ever seen in his life, says a miserable voice in the back of her mind as she stares at the red-haired man.
Now or never, Vanessa.
She steps out in front of him seemingly out of nowhere, a pleading look on her face.] I need your help.
