Irid
2003418
"Do you see that flying irid? Look at the yellow on the underside of its wings."
"Beautiful."
"Yes. But they are horrible birds. They attack their own kind. It's strange, though. They nurture their young with great care. They teach them to fly, to hunt, to nest. Yet when their young reach maturity they are just as likely to eat their parents as each other."
―Tahl and Qui-Gon Jinn
Name: 2003418, 'Irid'
"Beautiful."
"Yes. But they are horrible birds. They attack their own kind. It's strange, though. They nurture their young with great care. They teach them to fly, to hunt, to nest. Yet when their young reach maturity they are just as likely to eat their parents as each other."
―Tahl and Qui-Gon Jinn
Name: 2003418, 'Irid'
Species: Human
Age: 18
Sex: Female
Height: 5' 5”
Weight: 116lbs
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Brown
Skin: Fair
Force Sensitive: Yes
[+] Strength in Labour – In spite of an undernourished frame, Irid has spent her entire life in a world of hard physical labour. Naturally this would indicate that the girl has some strength. This is slightly hampered by a meagre diet, but she is stronger than the average girl her age.
[+] Potential of Power – Irid herself is completely unaware of her Force Sensitivity, but that does not leave all doors closed in terms of her promise. Just need the right key...or the wrong one.
[+/-] Had a Trip or Fall at Work? - When she was twelve, Irid suffered a break to her right wrist. Given the consequences of not working the girl forced herself to use her left hand predominantly, as it was too painful to use her right. The lack of proper medical care has left her right wrist weaker and at times sore but on the upside the use of her left has granted her ambidexterity.
[-] We Don't Need No Education – A slave since the day she was born, Irid has no education outside what was required. She cannot read, write or do sums. Her grasp upon galactic basic is also completely laughable.
Age: 18
Sex: Female
Height: 5' 5”
Weight: 116lbs
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Brown
Skin: Fair
Force Sensitive: Yes
[+] Strength in Labour – In spite of an undernourished frame, Irid has spent her entire life in a world of hard physical labour. Naturally this would indicate that the girl has some strength. This is slightly hampered by a meagre diet, but she is stronger than the average girl her age.
[+] Potential of Power – Irid herself is completely unaware of her Force Sensitivity, but that does not leave all doors closed in terms of her promise. Just need the right key...or the wrong one.
[+/-] Had a Trip or Fall at Work? - When she was twelve, Irid suffered a break to her right wrist. Given the consequences of not working the girl forced herself to use her left hand predominantly, as it was too painful to use her right. The lack of proper medical care has left her right wrist weaker and at times sore but on the upside the use of her left has granted her ambidexterity.
[-] We Don't Need No Education – A slave since the day she was born, Irid has no education outside what was required. She cannot read, write or do sums. Her grasp upon galactic basic is also completely laughable.
[-] Miners Lung – Inevitably when one works in mines they will inhale dust particles. Regardless of mineral material, you do not want excessive dust inhalation in your life. Irid is luckily still young, and thus not completely afflicted, but still suffers from shortness of breath and coughing fits from time to time.
Scrub away the layers of dirt, and look beyond the pale slivers of abuse and one will find a moderately attractive young woman. However, the layers are never usually too well scrubbed. Her dull brown hair is kept cut short, as to be kept out of the way during labour, and her brown-eyes are almost piercing through the dirt upon her skin.
Due to a life in slavery Irid has her official name branded upon her right wrist, her official name being '2003418'. Besides official marks, Irid has an assortment of minor scars from the lifestyle that is to be expected. Never one to step out of line, she has never received any grievous wounds or major scars, but simply those that come from the work environment (mostly upon her calloused hands), or gifted to her by the the Masters as they pleased.
She is slender but toned, as to be expected. Not a curvaceous woman by any stretch of the imagination, Irid has much more of a boyish figure, perhaps due to a lack of nutrition in her formative years. Still, the young woman is lithe and strong, as one needs to be in such a life.
On the Zygerria there's not much room for a personality to grow and flourish.
You fall into the mould or you get broken into it.
Having been born a slave and lived a slave her entire life, Irid is a very passive young woman. She doesn't dream or hold wonderment about the galaxy around her. She focuses on each day as it comes, working simply to fulfil her quota. There is not a hint of belligerence within her, perhaps due to the fact that she had never experience life before slavery, and thus has known nothing else.
The only odd anomaly in her life is the odd fraction of kindness that was visited upon her by one man in their camp. It bred a certain conflict within her. Even as a child Irid knew that it was wrong to accept his food and his tender words, that it did not fall in line with what she was supposed to be and how she was supposed to act.
Obedience, first and foremost.
You fall into the mould or you get broken into it.
Having been born a slave and lived a slave her entire life, Irid is a very passive young woman. She doesn't dream or hold wonderment about the galaxy around her. She focuses on each day as it comes, working simply to fulfil her quota. There is not a hint of belligerence within her, perhaps due to the fact that she had never experience life before slavery, and thus has known nothing else.
The only odd anomaly in her life is the odd fraction of kindness that was visited upon her by one man in their camp. It bred a certain conflict within her. Even as a child Irid knew that it was wrong to accept his food and his tender words, that it did not fall in line with what she was supposed to be and how she was supposed to act.
Obedience, first and foremost.
Even still...
Number 2003418 was born a slave upon Zygerria
It is often questioned, is it better to have always been a slave and to have never lost freedom? Or to have known freedom and lost it all?
Number 2003418 had never questioned this.
Not knowing her parents, as soon as she could swing a pickaxe she was sent to work. The infamous slave world of Zygerria her home, the mines her life. Each day was labour. Each day was pain. There was no childhood to be spoken of, no joy, no play, none of the essentials granted to most youths of the galaxy.
There was work, work that broke sweat upon the brow and birthed aches within bones, that made blisters turn to callouses.
The concept of time is lost. There is no calender. No days of the week. There's today and there's tomorrow. Today you work and tomorrow you will work. You sleep and you start again. Number 2003418 was born into this, she knew this and she had accepted this. Nothing ever changed, and there was no need for change to occur.
However, sometimes change can not be prevented.
A new slave, Viyers came one day when she was still but a girl and he was different. Not broken, not defeated, not angry but different. He was very much unlike the other slaves and a far cry from the Masters that worked them.
She did not understand him. He did not get on with his work. His life was not in dedication to the mines. He spoke. He shared. He laughed. The man accepted any punishment that was delivered and protected others from the same fate. He confused Number 2003418.
The girl could remember when he asked her for a name. 'Number 2003418'. However it was not the right answer. He joked, saying that she looked more like a 2003417, but the girl did not understand. Viyers told her of other planets, of other species, of beautiful landscapes in far away places with magical creatures that seemed to beautiful to exist in this world.
Irid.
He called her Irid, after a beautiful bird. As much as she might have denied it, for it was not her given name, the girl quite liked it.
It is often questioned, is it better to have always been a slave and to have never lost freedom? Or to have known freedom and lost it all?
Number 2003418 had never questioned this.
Not knowing her parents, as soon as she could swing a pickaxe she was sent to work. The infamous slave world of Zygerria her home, the mines her life. Each day was labour. Each day was pain. There was no childhood to be spoken of, no joy, no play, none of the essentials granted to most youths of the galaxy.
There was work, work that broke sweat upon the brow and birthed aches within bones, that made blisters turn to callouses.
The concept of time is lost. There is no calender. No days of the week. There's today and there's tomorrow. Today you work and tomorrow you will work. You sleep and you start again. Number 2003418 was born into this, she knew this and she had accepted this. Nothing ever changed, and there was no need for change to occur.
However, sometimes change can not be prevented.
A new slave, Viyers came one day when she was still but a girl and he was different. Not broken, not defeated, not angry but different. He was very much unlike the other slaves and a far cry from the Masters that worked them.
She did not understand him. He did not get on with his work. His life was not in dedication to the mines. He spoke. He shared. He laughed. The man accepted any punishment that was delivered and protected others from the same fate. He confused Number 2003418.
The girl could remember when he asked her for a name. 'Number 2003418'. However it was not the right answer. He joked, saying that she looked more like a 2003417, but the girl did not understand. Viyers told her of other planets, of other species, of beautiful landscapes in far away places with magical creatures that seemed to beautiful to exist in this world.
Irid.
He called her Irid, after a beautiful bird. As much as she might have denied it, for it was not her given name, the girl quite liked it.
Time passed, as it was want to do. 2003418 changed, from girl to woman and as such undertook new duties beyond the mines. Not that she minded, not that it mattered if she did. 2003418 was obedient. 2003418 did as she was told.
Viyers, however was upset. She did not comprehend it. He called it abhorrent and monstrous but she could not understand why. She did as she was told. The teenager exasperated him to a certain extent, was it better that she did not understand? Or was it worse? Still, the man would break his bread and speak with her, tell her stories and make jokes. Most of all, he insisted upon calling her Irid, and soon the other slaves called her that too.
One day he would take her away, he said, show her the galaxy.
She felt conflicted about their relationship. Everything was done beyond the eye of their Masters. The comfort, the kindness. It was wrong. It detracted from work. If it was right it wouldn't have to be hidden. However if she would have been asked if she enjoyed his presence in the camp then Irid would had said yes.
Words and promises of soon came about. Words that were so frantically spoken in hushed tones across the camps. Talk of freedom. Of life.
What did he have planned?
Viyers, however was upset. She did not comprehend it. He called it abhorrent and monstrous but she could not understand why. She did as she was told. The teenager exasperated him to a certain extent, was it better that she did not understand? Or was it worse? Still, the man would break his bread and speak with her, tell her stories and make jokes. Most of all, he insisted upon calling her Irid, and soon the other slaves called her that too.
One day he would take her away, he said, show her the galaxy.
She felt conflicted about their relationship. Everything was done beyond the eye of their Masters. The comfort, the kindness. It was wrong. It detracted from work. If it was right it wouldn't have to be hidden. However if she would have been asked if she enjoyed his presence in the camp then Irid would had said yes.
Words and promises of soon came about. Words that were so frantically spoken in hushed tones across the camps. Talk of freedom. Of life.
What did he have planned?
