First Reply Defrost Mode

[Iona Starchaser]

Location : Nordra | Weapons : Force Pike | Interacting With : OPEN

​

Disorientated, Iona sloshed through the icy slush, half-frozen and half-blind.

How she came to be unthawed from carbonite and managed an escape was still hazy. Voices had drifted in and out, a potential terrorist organization named the Ithorian Foreign Legion somehow was logged into her memory. Between vomiting, the vertigo, and passing out multiple times Iona wasn't sure how she got on a transport out. She had been dumped out of the cargo hold the minute landing gear touched down.

At least by this point she was half-way able to see.

With shaky hands she reached a dataterminal. Information was typed in to check if anyone had tried contacting her across the HoloNet. Not even Balun had, her supposed friend at one time or another. Standing there, Iona blinked back the tears stinging her still tender eyes. It had been clear she hadn't been missed. How long had she even been gone? Iona didn't have the time to look at the data terminal too hard and see her last log in date.

Navigating elsewhere, away from the nonexistent messages (at least McYoda's had spammed her inbox), the woman went to withdraw funds from her account. Still active and still with credits. She would need them to get off this rock and go...where? Finding a place to go was the last of her concerns. It was even more tempting to never return anywhere but at this point she was getting ahead of herself.

Pocketing her credits, Iona weakly entered the covered spaceport. First order of business was buying a hot tea from an elderly woman looking to capitalize on commercial traffic entering the area. Lonely spacers who wanted a reminder of home.

Taking the tea with a tiny thank you, Iona barely sipped it. Her stomach was still doing barrel rolls, making her wonder how long the sickness from the carbonite was supposed to last.

She needed to look strong or at least capable soon. Iona wanted passage off this rock and no one was going to take a passenger that looked like she would die mid hyperspace jump.

OOC Note

Spoiler

You're probably thinking hey, this is the same copy/pate job from a thread she's already started. You're right. I haven't seen the writer around and want to get this underway, so trying my luck in First Reply. Why fix a post when it ain't broke?

 

[Elara Veyran]

"The galaxy hides cold, dark truths in every corner."

Iona Starchaser ​

Unofficial business had finally begun to conclude on Norda.

Masses of workers from Rakata Prime and Vandelhelm had been relocated successfully to begin rebuilding. It had not been without hassle, however. Creating a payroll competitive with local government contracts had proven taxing, though the burden would likely ease with full control over the smuggling imports flowing through this particular spaceport.

Those workers would be needed for the projects ahead, but such thoughts could wait for another time. For now, the Senator needed to ensure loyalty was maintained within the port itself. To do so, she would have to leave personally and make certain the second half of the transaction found its way safely back into friendly hands.

Her natural stiffness slowly began to loosen as her well-kept black hair brushed against the grey concrete wall she rested upon. Watchful eyes scanned the station, studying chatter, transactions, and passing glances in equal measure. A life in politics tended to make one distrustful of every environment and every individual; one wrong move could mean the assassin's blade, political disaster, or a hidden journalist waiting to expose everything.

Especially when less-than-legal dealings were currently underway.

It was then she noticed the figure.

A Mirialan. Young. A teenager, perhaps.

A life spent wandering as a heartless bastard taught one to recognize weakness when they saw it. The stranger showed the telltale signs of illness or disease, something subtle but undeniably present in their posture and movement. Elara doubted port security would have allowed anyone truly dangerous through inspection, so the sight immediately presented an opportunity.

Looking as though she cared for a sick traveler would make for excellent public relations.

A perfect mask for her presence on Norda.

After all, the cold seasons on worlds such as this often brought waves of sickness to travelers and laborers alike. It would be easy for her supporters to justify her mysterious absence from office as compassion rather than indifference; the work of a woman taking time to aid the suffering.

Pushing herself from the concrete wall, Elara began making her way toward the Mirialan with slow, deliberate steps. Her posture was almost military in its precision, both hands clasped neatly behind her back like an old Imperial officer inspecting a local garrison. As she moved, she cast a brief glance sideways, silently ordering her security detail to remain behind at blaster-rifle distance.

One could never be too careful.

She turned her gaze upon the Mirialan, unflinching and as cold as the winter air beyond the station walls. The mimicry of compassion had not yet found its way onto her features; for the moment, there was only calculation behind her eyes.

It was then that she noticed something of interest. The corner of her mouth curled ever so slightly. To the outside world, it might have seemed curious, almost polite.

In truth, there was something faintly devilish beneath it.

"A long way from Mirial, isn't it?"