The Blood Hound
Seriously, she hated Geonosis. It was warm. It smelled. But someone thought it was a good idea to turn this redundant planet into the capital of the CIS, and this is where the main HQ and all things that mattered were, which meant that this was where she was supposed to go.
She had initially planned on coming here a month prior, shortly after her latest trip to Tatooine. But life had taken unexpected turns. Where once a young and bubbling girl on the cusp of womanhood stood, now was a woman who seemed nearly defeated. Bags decorated her eyes and her skin had that not so lovely hue that those who suffer from extreme lack of sleep tend to get. To make things worse, the Sithling was drunk, the waterskin hanging against her hip filled with liquor instead of water. She felt too much, experienced more than she could bear, and she needed it at this point, needed to take the edge off.
But she also had to keep doing things with herself. The first few days after she had been betrayed and shattered, she had not left her ship, wallowing in despair. But she could no longer stay around and sit, she had to keep herself busy, had to keep moving forward. And this time, she had to do it alone.
While wiping off any remains of those who had broken her heart from the ship, she had found the crate she'd originally filled on Tatooine. It contained the tail of a dead Hutt and some of its insides. It was all she could do to keep it, knowing what the next plan of action was.
So, walking in a not entirely straight line, Scherezade deWinter made her way to the Ministry of Science. Clad in jeans and the least dirty shirt she could find, she didn't really look like any sort of CIS representative. But that was okay. Most of the CIS didn't see her as one anyway, and at the present, her only reason for still being there was that she had nowhere else to go. So for the time being, it meant that she would be cooperating with them.
She entered an office and stared, her body and mind freezing of their own accord for a second at the sight of the big table and the secretary behind it. The last time she had been in such an office had been on Coruscant, in a Galactic Alliance office, and it had ended with her being stabbed in the heart and the gut by a Jedi Master who sought to rid the 'verse of Darksiders. It had only been a small step in her fall, and she spent most days wishing he had just killed her.
Taking a deep breath, she forced her body to unfreeze, took another gulp from her liquor, and walked to the secretary.
"I'm here to speak with a Dr. Voran," she said, not even pretending to smile. There was no patience for niceties.
[member="Xenro"]
She had initially planned on coming here a month prior, shortly after her latest trip to Tatooine. But life had taken unexpected turns. Where once a young and bubbling girl on the cusp of womanhood stood, now was a woman who seemed nearly defeated. Bags decorated her eyes and her skin had that not so lovely hue that those who suffer from extreme lack of sleep tend to get. To make things worse, the Sithling was drunk, the waterskin hanging against her hip filled with liquor instead of water. She felt too much, experienced more than she could bear, and she needed it at this point, needed to take the edge off.
But she also had to keep doing things with herself. The first few days after she had been betrayed and shattered, she had not left her ship, wallowing in despair. But she could no longer stay around and sit, she had to keep herself busy, had to keep moving forward. And this time, she had to do it alone.
While wiping off any remains of those who had broken her heart from the ship, she had found the crate she'd originally filled on Tatooine. It contained the tail of a dead Hutt and some of its insides. It was all she could do to keep it, knowing what the next plan of action was.
So, walking in a not entirely straight line, Scherezade deWinter made her way to the Ministry of Science. Clad in jeans and the least dirty shirt she could find, she didn't really look like any sort of CIS representative. But that was okay. Most of the CIS didn't see her as one anyway, and at the present, her only reason for still being there was that she had nowhere else to go. So for the time being, it meant that she would be cooperating with them.
She entered an office and stared, her body and mind freezing of their own accord for a second at the sight of the big table and the secretary behind it. The last time she had been in such an office had been on Coruscant, in a Galactic Alliance office, and it had ended with her being stabbed in the heart and the gut by a Jedi Master who sought to rid the 'verse of Darksiders. It had only been a small step in her fall, and she spent most days wishing he had just killed her.
Taking a deep breath, she forced her body to unfreeze, took another gulp from her liquor, and walked to the secretary.
"I'm here to speak with a Dr. Voran," she said, not even pretending to smile. There was no patience for niceties.
[member="Xenro"]