Vlad123
Padawan
Flashback
The sun beat down on his skin, relentlessly pushing him to his limits. Vilair lifted the barrel full of sand over his aching shoulders as he loaded it into an container for what seemed like the thousandth time. Beads of sweat ran down his face as he perspired all over his body. Working shirtless proved painful under the sun, but it was worth it just to feel the cool breeze over his skin. His life wasn't full of pleasantries, rather toil, however small things like this he treasured. Years of working as a slave, had built his strength up and he towered over many, including his masters. The harsh environment carved him into the man he was today. Yet he was still bound. Vilair joined his fellow slaves as they loaded the 10 ton container into the space transport that was due to leave in a few hours to another sector. He glanced up into the sky as they pushed on, the sound of grunting audible now. What was it like up there? He had been in space before, but it was in the pits surrounded by darkness and chains. Was it as beautiful as the rumors had claimed?
His daydreaming was cut short by a loud voice over the speaker.
"Alright you dogs! That's it for now. Back to the grouping area in one hour!"
So they were finally done for the day which seemed shorter than usual. He glanced at the clock, and sighed. A 16 hour work day was coming to a close, and they had only one hour left to shower up and get back to bed just to do it all over again. However, Vilair had different plans for today. Their main owner, was gone for a few days and the substitute wasn't all too bright himself. Stationing too many guards next to his personal quarters, left just enough scarce near certain areas around the fences to slip through.
Vilair slipped on a clean shirt he managed to swipe near the storage rooms, and quickly washed up his face. The cool rush of water on his face was exhilarating and dazing. Gathering his credits he had saved up over the weeks, he quickly slipped out the door and sneaked his way over to the fence where he was certain no guards could see. A blind spot that could be exploited for the time being.
Slipping through, he briskly blended into the dusty streets and crowd of the city. Once a month he would save up enough credits by trading and bartering with local townsfolk and fellow slaves with certain items they would either find or steal and keep hidden from their owners. This month, he had hit the jackpot by finding a few gems during a mining operation in the field of Ryloth, and a more than willing citizen of Ryloth paid a good amount of credits for them.
This hard-earned money deserved a good spending, and unlike the usual shady cantinas, today Vilair was headed for one with a more reputable standing. The entrance into the place itself required a fee, but the food and drinks they served had a good rep around Ryloth. Then again, anything was better than what they fed the slaves with. Dry meat and water was all they knew.
After taking a few twists and turns, he finally arrived at the Cantina. It had bright lights out in the front, and a few bouncers outside of it as well. As he approached the entrance, he was already getting stares. They could tell he did not belong here. No matter, as long as he had the credits they let him through.
Stepping inside, the environment changed completely. Music he hadn't heard of before filled the air, while it wasn't bad, Vilair didn't know any better music. The sound of machines and shouts were all he was used to. Anything was better. Taking a few moments to collect himself, he made his way over to an empty table.
A waitress arrived in seconds, asking for his order in a slightly out-of-tune vocalizer that needed to be replaced. Vilair was a handyman when it came to working with droids. "I'll take an ice blaster. And probably more after that."
The waitressing droid quickly scooted off, and Vilair looked around the place. The cool air was enough to keep him here, let alone the music and environment. Why wasn't he born a high class senator, or some sort of soldier? Then he could at least do something like this more than just once every two years.
Vilair leaned back in his seat, silently wincing in pain. His back was sore from the constant abuse they would recieve, and the sun was no less merciful. One day. He would be free. One day he-
His daydreaming was cut short by a face off into the distance. There, up on the 'stage' was a young woman, what looked like his age. She was beautiful. His gaze seemed to freeze, unable to lookaway. Vilair was in awe. She belonged on the front page of those galactic beauty magazines. Admiring her beauty from afar, he didn't even notice or hear his ice blaster drink arriving in front him, something he was looking forward to for months now, seemed irrelevant.
She looked like she worked here for a while, and if Vilair could afford it, he would come here just to see her. He silently chuckled at the idea, and quickly threw those thoughts out of his head. Who was he? Lower than a commoner, not to trifle with those above him. He didn't agree with that per say, but there wasn't anything he could do about it either. Better to quell this dream now, than to live in hope.
He lowered his gaze back to the table and sipped his ice blaster quietly. However, he couldn't leave here without a name.
"Excuse me, droid?"
The less than good vocalizing droid reappeared, "How can I be of service, human?"
Vilair, nodded in the direction of the woman and asked.
"That dancer. On the very right. What's her name?"
The droid cockingly tilted his head toward the indicated direction, and then back.
"Kesare." And rolled off.
Huh. What a beautiful name.
[member='Kesare Salazar']