Meri Vale
Character
Nar Shaddaa never slept.
It only shifted—noise folding into noise, light bleeding into light—until the senses dulled from overload rather than rest. Meri stayed close to the solid, familiar presence beside her as they moved through the middle city, letting the press of bodies flow around them instead of through her. She focused on details that made sense: the rhythm of foot traffic, the pattern of illuminated signage, the weight of her notebook tucked securely under her arm.
Crowds were more manageable when she could observe rather than engage.
The stalls here were less chaotic than the lower levels, but no less strange. Half-repaired devices, antique-looking components, things that pretended to be history, and things that actually were. Meri slowed near one display without quite realizing it, her attention caught by an astrogation chip etched with markings that didn't match any modern cartographic standard she recognized.
Her fingers twitched, resisting the urge to touch.
She became aware of someone standing close—too close for comfort—before any sound reached her. Meri stiffened, shoulders drawing in slightly as she turned just enough to acknowledge the presence without fully facing it.
She listened, not to words at first, but to intent. To the way the attention felt directed, focused not on her but on the notebook she carried, on the way she had paused instead of passing by. Her grip tightened unconsciously.
"I'm just looking," Meri said quietly, the words automatic, defensive, without being hostile. The response she received confirmed what she had already suspected: this wasn't a chance encounter. Her pulse ticked up, but her mind stayed calm. That usually meant something mattered.
A request followed. Transport. Protection. A place missing from the charts. An artifact older than the records that pretended to define the galaxy now. Each piece fit together too neatly to be a coincidence, and yet none of it felt exaggerated. If anything, it felt restrained—carefully presented.
She hated that part of herself that leaned in at the mention of lost worlds.
Meri lowered her gaze for a moment, grounding herself, then looked back up. "Why me?" she asked, softly but clearly. The answer—nonverbal, implied, tied to her earlier hesitation and what she had noticed without realizing—settled in her chest with quiet weight. She exhaled slowly.
Nar Shaddaa's noise pressed in again: passing speeders, distant sirens, voices rising and falling without meaning. The city didn't care what she decided. It never did. Meri adjusted the notebook under her arm, fingers resting along its worn spine. "I don't make decisions quickly," she said after a moment. "And I don't take jobs I don't understand."
She paused, eyes flicking briefly to the space beside her, then back again. "But I will listen." It wasn't an agreement. Not yet. But it was enough to keep her standing there, instead of disappearing back into the crowd.
RedSword77
It only shifted—noise folding into noise, light bleeding into light—until the senses dulled from overload rather than rest. Meri stayed close to the solid, familiar presence beside her as they moved through the middle city, letting the press of bodies flow around them instead of through her. She focused on details that made sense: the rhythm of foot traffic, the pattern of illuminated signage, the weight of her notebook tucked securely under her arm.
Crowds were more manageable when she could observe rather than engage.
The stalls here were less chaotic than the lower levels, but no less strange. Half-repaired devices, antique-looking components, things that pretended to be history, and things that actually were. Meri slowed near one display without quite realizing it, her attention caught by an astrogation chip etched with markings that didn't match any modern cartographic standard she recognized.
Her fingers twitched, resisting the urge to touch.
She became aware of someone standing close—too close for comfort—before any sound reached her. Meri stiffened, shoulders drawing in slightly as she turned just enough to acknowledge the presence without fully facing it.
She listened, not to words at first, but to intent. To the way the attention felt directed, focused not on her but on the notebook she carried, on the way she had paused instead of passing by. Her grip tightened unconsciously.
"I'm just looking," Meri said quietly, the words automatic, defensive, without being hostile. The response she received confirmed what she had already suspected: this wasn't a chance encounter. Her pulse ticked up, but her mind stayed calm. That usually meant something mattered.
A request followed. Transport. Protection. A place missing from the charts. An artifact older than the records that pretended to define the galaxy now. Each piece fit together too neatly to be a coincidence, and yet none of it felt exaggerated. If anything, it felt restrained—carefully presented.
She hated that part of herself that leaned in at the mention of lost worlds.
Meri lowered her gaze for a moment, grounding herself, then looked back up. "Why me?" she asked, softly but clearly. The answer—nonverbal, implied, tied to her earlier hesitation and what she had noticed without realizing—settled in her chest with quiet weight. She exhaled slowly.
Nar Shaddaa's noise pressed in again: passing speeders, distant sirens, voices rising and falling without meaning. The city didn't care what she decided. It never did. Meri adjusted the notebook under her arm, fingers resting along its worn spine. "I don't make decisions quickly," she said after a moment. "And I don't take jobs I don't understand."
She paused, eyes flicking briefly to the space beside her, then back again. "But I will listen." It wasn't an agreement. Not yet. But it was enough to keep her standing there, instead of disappearing back into the crowd.
RedSword77