Administrator
R O O N
Dressed In: Plain Country Gear
Tag: Caen San Tekka
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She went back to where it began.
Roon was the first time she had seen a Nether-Rift open and close in the blink of an eye. From the depths of the unknown one of her dearest friends had been eschewed, changed, and without a single memory of his history. That had been months ago. The Knight Obsidian Tower that had secured the area in the wastes didn’t have any more answers now than they had when it happened. Fluctuations and temporal distortions. Groundquakes. A burst of light—And then it was gone.
Srina had traveled from one end of the Confederacy to the other looking for more details on the Netherworld but it seemed to be a rather guarded secret. Sith Sorcerers, including the Vicelord, were capable of opening portals but it seemed that tangible knowledge was exceedingly thin. Roon was a planet that had evolved from smugglers and pirates to an almost workable, though, eclectic society.
The Confederacy didn’t bother them unnecessarily and they liked it that way. Even with a Knight Tower their presence was entirely minimal. The Death Wind Corridor was hard, even now, for starships to travel. Settling within the general banner of the droid nation made that task relatively easier because it made access to coveted technology, relatively easier.
Though—Only relatively.
Even the ship she chose, the Ferocity, had a little difficulty.
Srina sat within a well-kept tavern within the heart of Nime. It was a port city on the Roon Sea that used to hold great significance when the Galactic Empire had reigned supreme in days of old. There were people bustling around from all walks of life, children, adults, flying in and out of the main portal tracking mud just about everywhere. A good portion of the population was human but there was also a great deal of Twi’leks and Sullustans. The Exarch stuck out like a sore thumb. She was too spotless, too pale, and overall, too “white” in coloring. It screamed foreigner.
Anyone that lived on Roon, even in the city, eventually got covered in a layer of dirt and dust. Nothing fully got clean. The owner of the tavern seemed kind enough and kept checking on her when the regular crowd got rowdy. “Can I get you anything else, Miss?”
“Another black tea, please. Bread and cheese?”
It was a simple request that she found obligated to make. She had been taking up a lot of time here. Reading, studying, and meeting different people. She occupied a whole table in the furthest corner near a window. That meant that any other business was essentially blocked. She ensured that she tipped generously and ordered things, even, when she didn’t plan to eat it.
Moonlit hair spilled down her back like a waterfall while she scrolled through a data-pad and reviewed some of the information that had been sent. She wore a long navy skirt that hid sensible brown boots beneath a white top. A pattered white and blue scarf lay around her neck and a deep blue cloak lay over the back of her chair. She didn’t look much like an Exarch. If anything—She looked more like a lost traveler that shouldn’t be wandering around the galaxy alone.
The tavern owner returned and set down a plate with freshly baked bread and for a moment her stomach rumbled. She’d forgotten, that actually, she was hungry. “Thank you. I’ll likely need to extend my stay. Can you accommodate that?”
“Certainly. How long will you be?”
“Another week at least.”
“I’ll mark the books. Though…You really shouldn’t stay down here after dark, Miss. Some of the men that work the fields can get a little over-excited and tend to drink a little too much. It’s not exactly the safest thing for a little lady like yourself.”
Srina tilted her head and glanced up at the tavern owner. She was slight of frame, seemingly soft, with achingly delicate features. “I’ll be fine.”, the words were deadpan, cold, and without an ounce of care. The tavern owner shook his head and wiped his hands on the apron around his waist. She was so sure of herself…He hoped that didn’t get her into a world of hurt.
The Echani reached for the bread and began to slowly nibble while she worked. For an outdated backwater, truly, it was quite good. It was the reason she’d chosen this establishment. The company was questionable, the floor sticky, but the quarters were secure and the food was acceptable.
On Roon? She might as well have been a princess in a palace.
