Meri Vale
Character
The docking concourse was louder than Meri remembered, though not necessarily in the sense of literal noise. Starports were inherently chaotic places, defined by the mechanical whine of engines, the piercing drone of cargo loaders, and the constant, rhythmic murmur of travelers passing through on their way to distant systems. Instead, the sensation of volume came from the space itself, which seemed curiously smaller and more confined than it had during her last visit.
She stood near one of the massive transparisteel panels that overlooked the landing bays, watching the silhouettes of ships as they rose and fell through the precision-controlled traffic lanes of the atmosphere. Her satchel hung heavily from one shoulder, weighed down by a collection of books, datapads, and handwritten notes that had grown significantly over the past several months.
There was a noticeable change in the way she carried herself as well. Over the past year, she had grown just enough for the hem of her jacket to lift away from the tops of her boots, and her posture had shifted alongside her height. She no longer stood folded in on herself, looking like someone who expected the world to collapse without warning; while she knew the world still could crumble at any moment, she no longer moved as if she assumed it was an inevitability.
Scanning the crowd with a quiet, practiced focus, Meri found it easy to locate Maur. Even in a starport overflowing with weary travelers and burly cargo haulers, a seven-foot Togorian stood out with the unmistakable clarity of a lighthouse among drifting ships. For a long moment, Meri simply watched from across the concourse, reflecting on how a single year could feel so much longer when travel stacked new places atop old memories until the edges began to blur.
Seeing Maur's familiar striped silhouette and quiet presence snapped everything back into sharp focus. She admired the way the Togorian moved—with the grace of someone who had long ago learned how to take up space without feeling the need to apologize for it.
Meri began to walk forward, her steps steady as she weaved through the throng of travelers without her old hesitation. When she reached a comfortable distance, she came to a halt and looked up, realizing that it was still a very long way up to meet Maur's gaze. A small, genuine smile touched her lips, and her hands rose instinctively to begin the conversation.
Hello, Maur.
The signs were practiced now, lacking the jagged uncertainty of their early days; they were still careful, but far smoother than the first time they had attempted to communicate in the silence. She studied Maur's face for a moment, her eyes warm with the spark of recognition, before continuing.
It has been about a year since we last spoke.
Her gaze flicked briefly over Maur's gear, noting the familiar weight of her weapons and the way her clothes had been softened by the grit of travel.
You look well, she signed, pausing for a beat as a hint of humor sparked in her expression. And you are, as always, still very tall.
She lowered her hands but remained visibly relaxed, appearing entirely at ease in the giantess's shadow. Seeing Maur again didn't feel like the awkwardness of meeting a stranger; it felt like rediscovering a landmark she had once used to navigate the galaxy, only to find it was still exactly where she had left it.
Maur
She stood near one of the massive transparisteel panels that overlooked the landing bays, watching the silhouettes of ships as they rose and fell through the precision-controlled traffic lanes of the atmosphere. Her satchel hung heavily from one shoulder, weighed down by a collection of books, datapads, and handwritten notes that had grown significantly over the past several months.
There was a noticeable change in the way she carried herself as well. Over the past year, she had grown just enough for the hem of her jacket to lift away from the tops of her boots, and her posture had shifted alongside her height. She no longer stood folded in on herself, looking like someone who expected the world to collapse without warning; while she knew the world still could crumble at any moment, she no longer moved as if she assumed it was an inevitability.
Scanning the crowd with a quiet, practiced focus, Meri found it easy to locate Maur. Even in a starport overflowing with weary travelers and burly cargo haulers, a seven-foot Togorian stood out with the unmistakable clarity of a lighthouse among drifting ships. For a long moment, Meri simply watched from across the concourse, reflecting on how a single year could feel so much longer when travel stacked new places atop old memories until the edges began to blur.
Seeing Maur's familiar striped silhouette and quiet presence snapped everything back into sharp focus. She admired the way the Togorian moved—with the grace of someone who had long ago learned how to take up space without feeling the need to apologize for it.
Meri began to walk forward, her steps steady as she weaved through the throng of travelers without her old hesitation. When she reached a comfortable distance, she came to a halt and looked up, realizing that it was still a very long way up to meet Maur's gaze. A small, genuine smile touched her lips, and her hands rose instinctively to begin the conversation.
Hello, Maur.
The signs were practiced now, lacking the jagged uncertainty of their early days; they were still careful, but far smoother than the first time they had attempted to communicate in the silence. She studied Maur's face for a moment, her eyes warm with the spark of recognition, before continuing.
It has been about a year since we last spoke.
Her gaze flicked briefly over Maur's gear, noting the familiar weight of her weapons and the way her clothes had been softened by the grit of travel.
You look well, she signed, pausing for a beat as a hint of humor sparked in her expression. And you are, as always, still very tall.
She lowered her hands but remained visibly relaxed, appearing entirely at ease in the giantess's shadow. Seeing Maur again didn't feel like the awkwardness of meeting a stranger; it felt like rediscovering a landmark she had once used to navigate the galaxy, only to find it was still exactly where she had left it.
Maur