Arris Windrun
Gutter Goddess
NAR SHADDAA
THE DARK LANDS
Kirie
A woman bent at the waist to heave behind an alley dumpster. What came out was a mixture of blood and something else that was bluish-green.
"Yo!" A voice called out.
Another joined in. "Is that--?"
They were both excited, and their footsteps grew louder on a fast approach. "Windrun!" They exclaimed almost in unison, but not quite.
She wiped the fluid from her mouth and presented a grin. There was no joy behind it. She signed something for both of them, then parted ways.
Trust every pain.
Every weakness.
Every setback.
Stop trying to rise above your instincts.
Or your flaws.
Pretending is a luxury we'll never have.
That was how she had been raised. A woman who could never really distinguish herself from a gun. Is that why she became more like one over time? Not just in bits and pieces, but refined and ugly purpose. A violent tool to dissuade and to kill. A representation of someone else's power - an icon that defined galactic culture for longer than anyone could remember a different way.
The elevator door closed. Arris leaned against the back wall, drew a cigarette; lit it.
"Long time. You surviving the Academy?" She said through a drag, uncanny as her voice came through clearly despite her lips unmoved to let the smoke roll slowly from her mouth.
How long had it been? The Wheel, Genarius, Chandrila, Calipsa... Arris had been busy, too. Both since their previous little field trip. The cyborg showed Kirie the ropes of the Underworld, but their exercise was cut short by petty gang politics.
She offered Kirie the cigarette at half length since she lit it.
Their's was a slow ride down, from the Red Light Sector into the Dark Lands below. When they passed the threshold from one level to the next, there was a complete absence of light as if someone flipped a switch.
At the bottom, the door opened. Before them was a district filled with countless bodies like any other on the Smugger's Moon. Only difference is they had to make due without lights and only limited power. Many resorted to chemical fires just to cook their food. But it wasn't as if they were broken and without complexity. This was an entire society built around the conditions. Naturally, however, the Dark Lands proved a perfect spot for the worst of the worst to hide. And so many of the Dark Land's gangs were run by ruthless offworlders with nothing left to lose but their power.
"Still keep that lightsaber on you?"
Her mood was different. Arris read as more relaxed than in their first meeting, but a Sith was unlikely to be at peace.
THE DARK LANDS
A woman bent at the waist to heave behind an alley dumpster. What came out was a mixture of blood and something else that was bluish-green.
"Yo!" A voice called out.
Another joined in. "Is that--?"
They were both excited, and their footsteps grew louder on a fast approach. "Windrun!" They exclaimed almost in unison, but not quite.
She wiped the fluid from her mouth and presented a grin. There was no joy behind it. She signed something for both of them, then parted ways.
Trust every pain.
Every weakness.
Every setback.
Stop trying to rise above your instincts.
Or your flaws.
Pretending is a luxury we'll never have.
That was how she had been raised. A woman who could never really distinguish herself from a gun. Is that why she became more like one over time? Not just in bits and pieces, but refined and ugly purpose. A violent tool to dissuade and to kill. A representation of someone else's power - an icon that defined galactic culture for longer than anyone could remember a different way.
The elevator door closed. Arris leaned against the back wall, drew a cigarette; lit it.
"Long time. You surviving the Academy?" She said through a drag, uncanny as her voice came through clearly despite her lips unmoved to let the smoke roll slowly from her mouth.
How long had it been? The Wheel, Genarius, Chandrila, Calipsa... Arris had been busy, too. Both since their previous little field trip. The cyborg showed Kirie the ropes of the Underworld, but their exercise was cut short by petty gang politics.
She offered Kirie the cigarette at half length since she lit it.
Their's was a slow ride down, from the Red Light Sector into the Dark Lands below. When they passed the threshold from one level to the next, there was a complete absence of light as if someone flipped a switch.
At the bottom, the door opened. Before them was a district filled with countless bodies like any other on the Smugger's Moon. Only difference is they had to make due without lights and only limited power. Many resorted to chemical fires just to cook their food. But it wasn't as if they were broken and without complexity. This was an entire society built around the conditions. Naturally, however, the Dark Lands proved a perfect spot for the worst of the worst to hide. And so many of the Dark Land's gangs were run by ruthless offworlders with nothing left to lose but their power.
"Still keep that lightsaber on you?"
Her mood was different. Arris read as more relaxed than in their first meeting, but a Sith was unlikely to be at peace.