Silver Star
Outfit: Robes
Equipment: Lightsaber, Bracelet, Earrings, Seer Stone, Wayfinder's Flare, Engagement Ring
Tag:
Aiden Porte
Wann Tsir. The name alone carried a kind of dry hush, like wind sifting over salt flats.
The shuttle hissed closed behind Eve as she stepped onto the sun-bleached duracrete of the town’s starport. Heat shimmered in thin waves off the landing pads, and the air smelled faintly of ozone and unfamiliar spices. Around her, the town bustled in quiet, measured rhythms, a mosaic of traders, labourers and travellers speaking a dozen languages, their glances quick but lingering when they noticed the white Jedi robes and the single black eyepatch.
She adjusted the strap of her satchel, her thumb brushing the smooth surface of her comm device. Somewhere beyond these streets, a distress beacon was calling.
It had come in on open channels, an old code, but authentic. When Eve had brought it to Valery, her Master had studied her for a long moment, then given a single nod.
"Go," she had said softly to her. "Make me proud. But remember, you’re never alone in the Force."
So Eve had gone.
She moved through the streets, passing open-air stalls where vendors hawked bright cloths and steaming skewers of spiced meat. Alien children darted between the crowd, shouting in a language Eve didn’t know. Eyes followed her, a few with hope, more with wary curiosity. A Jedi was a rare sight here.
Finally, she reached the speeder taxi rank at the town’s edge.
The droids running the service turned their photoreceptors toward her as she approached, murmuring in metallic voices. Eve took a deep breath, the heat pressing into her skin, and gave the coordinates she’d triangulated from the distress beacon. The droid nodded, gesturing to a battered speeder whose engine hummed in a low, steady growl.
Eve climbed in. As the speeder lifted off and turned toward the open wilderness, the town fell away behind her in the dust.
Somewhere out there was a call for help, and she would find it.