Wrenarias
Well-Known Member
Time was a difficult thing to keep track of on Fresia. Even the sun seemed to lose itself as it trekked across the sky in an endlessly long day. While Wren understood that it was actually the planet itself which rotated at a glacial pace on its axis, she couldn't help but imagine the sun listlessly meandering about as time dragged on below. What better place to lay low?
Her injuries still ached, but at the least, they were on the mend. How many standard days had she been on this planet now? She couldn't remember. What she did know was that it had been twilight for more than three days. The coming night would last nearly a month, she wasn't looking forward to the neverending darkness. It was no small mystery why the residents on this planet were known to be eccentric.
As she walked down the street, she caught glimpses of her reflection in the windows. She couldn't bring herself to look herself in the eye anymore. They weren't her eyes. Instead of white, the sclera was clouded with a dark shadow and her irises were no longer lavender, but an eerie glowing grey. There were new scars across her face, the worst of which was on the underside of her chin. With her cybernetic prosthetic lek, she truly looked like a freak.
While humans made up the majority of the population, even they knew to give Wren a wide berth.
She sighed quietly as a mother and child hurried to the other side of the street to walk past her. A familiar pang lurched in her throat, but she knew it was for the best.
Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket, Wren hunched her shoulders and hurried on ahead. At least during the days of constant sunlight, she'd had a reason to wear sunglasses to hide behind.
Her gaze dropped down to her feet, watching her old boots dully plod along the sidewalk for a short while.
Not watching where she was going, she didn't notice the young man racing towards her until it was entirely too late. He'd been looking over his shoulder, as if running from something, when he slammed into the twi'lek, knocking them both to the ground.
Wren felt a moment of panic. If she'd been expecting it, she could have braced herself, but she'd been caught utterly off guard. The Bridge, as she called it, the connection that forged between herself and whoever touched her, bloomed to life. The warmth of her consciousness ebbed into the man's form wherever he made contact, he'd feel the uneasy fear of being startled and the shock of the fall. By the time they hit the ground, she'd regained enough of her senses to clamp down on the Bridge, severing the connection. This was why she wore heavy jackets and gloves wherever she went, it was almost impossible to control if someone touched her skin. The clothing made it manageable.
The man scrambled away from her, his eyes wide and staring. Whatever he'd been running from seemed momentarily forgotten. "What the kriff?" He hissed, narrowing his eyes at her.
Another voice shouted from the direction the man had come from, snapping him back into reality. Shaking his head, he scrambled to his feet and bolted down an alley. As he ran off, Wren realized that the man had dropped a datachit. It must have fallen out of his pocket during their tumble.
Unsure of what to do, she picked up the chit and pushed herself to her feet, dusting herself off.
Her injuries still ached, but at the least, they were on the mend. How many standard days had she been on this planet now? She couldn't remember. What she did know was that it had been twilight for more than three days. The coming night would last nearly a month, she wasn't looking forward to the neverending darkness. It was no small mystery why the residents on this planet were known to be eccentric.
As she walked down the street, she caught glimpses of her reflection in the windows. She couldn't bring herself to look herself in the eye anymore. They weren't her eyes. Instead of white, the sclera was clouded with a dark shadow and her irises were no longer lavender, but an eerie glowing grey. There were new scars across her face, the worst of which was on the underside of her chin. With her cybernetic prosthetic lek, she truly looked like a freak.
While humans made up the majority of the population, even they knew to give Wren a wide berth.
She sighed quietly as a mother and child hurried to the other side of the street to walk past her. A familiar pang lurched in her throat, but she knew it was for the best.
Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket, Wren hunched her shoulders and hurried on ahead. At least during the days of constant sunlight, she'd had a reason to wear sunglasses to hide behind.
Her gaze dropped down to her feet, watching her old boots dully plod along the sidewalk for a short while.
Not watching where she was going, she didn't notice the young man racing towards her until it was entirely too late. He'd been looking over his shoulder, as if running from something, when he slammed into the twi'lek, knocking them both to the ground.
Wren felt a moment of panic. If she'd been expecting it, she could have braced herself, but she'd been caught utterly off guard. The Bridge, as she called it, the connection that forged between herself and whoever touched her, bloomed to life. The warmth of her consciousness ebbed into the man's form wherever he made contact, he'd feel the uneasy fear of being startled and the shock of the fall. By the time they hit the ground, she'd regained enough of her senses to clamp down on the Bridge, severing the connection. This was why she wore heavy jackets and gloves wherever she went, it was almost impossible to control if someone touched her skin. The clothing made it manageable.
The man scrambled away from her, his eyes wide and staring. Whatever he'd been running from seemed momentarily forgotten. "What the kriff?" He hissed, narrowing his eyes at her.
Another voice shouted from the direction the man had come from, snapping him back into reality. Shaking his head, he scrambled to his feet and bolted down an alley. As he ran off, Wren realized that the man had dropped a datachit. It must have fallen out of his pocket during their tumble.
Unsure of what to do, she picked up the chit and pushed herself to her feet, dusting herself off.