Vashra Foss
Character
Vashra Foss stood at the edge of the landing platform, the engines of her ship, the Red Dagger, cooling with a low hum behind her. The familiar sights and sounds of Nar Shaddaa enveloped her like a long-forgotten cloak. Neon lights flickered in the distance, casting a garish glow over the grimy streets below, and the unmistakable scent of oil and desperation lingered in the air.
Years had passed since she last set foot on the Smuggler Moon, and yet, here she was, heart racing as if the city itself were calling her back. It was odd, really - nostalgia was a luxury she couldn't afford. Vashra had built her life on the sharp edges of survival, closing off parts of herself that could be perceived as weak. But Finon had a way of slipping through her defenses, stirring feelings she thought long buried.
"Why the hell am I feeling this?" she muttered under her breath, scuffing the toe of her boot against the metal platform. Her gray-green eyes scanned the bustling crowds below-hustlers, smugglers, and thieves alike. Every face she passed was a reminder of the life she had escaped, the shackles she had broken.
But Finon… he was different. He understood the dark humor of their shared past, the twisted games they played to survive. She couldn't remember the last time someone made her feel like she belonged-like she was more than just a blade and a name on a bounty hunter's list.
"Focus, Vashra," she breathed, shaking her head to clear the thoughts swirling in her mind. Nostalgia was a dangerous game, and she had no time for weakness. She was stronger now-crafty, ruthless, and feared. She had risen from the ashes of her childhood, clawing her way to the top of a world that had tried to crush her.
But then again, maybe that was the very reason she was here. To prove to herself that she had truly outgrown her desperate beginnings. Meeting Finon was a test-a way to show that she was no longer the scared girl running from her past. She was the predator now, a survivor who thrived in the chaos of Nar Shaddaa, forged by this crucible instead of broken. With a deep breath, Vashra adjusted her jacket and tucked a stray strand of blue-dyed hair behind her ear. She stepped off the platform and into the fray, heart pounding not just from the thrill of returning home, but from the anticipation of seeing Finon again.
In this city of lost dreams and broken promises, she steeled herself for whatever lay ahead. She would face it head-on, armed with the knowledge that she was no longer a victim of her circumstances. She was Vashra Foss, and she had stronger, harder and meaner than this place.
She got this. She was willing to trust Finon but if he ever betrayed that trust….
Then she would be as unforgiving as the jungle they had both grown up in.
Finon Nalle
Years had passed since she last set foot on the Smuggler Moon, and yet, here she was, heart racing as if the city itself were calling her back. It was odd, really - nostalgia was a luxury she couldn't afford. Vashra had built her life on the sharp edges of survival, closing off parts of herself that could be perceived as weak. But Finon had a way of slipping through her defenses, stirring feelings she thought long buried.
"Why the hell am I feeling this?" she muttered under her breath, scuffing the toe of her boot against the metal platform. Her gray-green eyes scanned the bustling crowds below-hustlers, smugglers, and thieves alike. Every face she passed was a reminder of the life she had escaped, the shackles she had broken.
But Finon… he was different. He understood the dark humor of their shared past, the twisted games they played to survive. She couldn't remember the last time someone made her feel like she belonged-like she was more than just a blade and a name on a bounty hunter's list.
"Focus, Vashra," she breathed, shaking her head to clear the thoughts swirling in her mind. Nostalgia was a dangerous game, and she had no time for weakness. She was stronger now-crafty, ruthless, and feared. She had risen from the ashes of her childhood, clawing her way to the top of a world that had tried to crush her.
But then again, maybe that was the very reason she was here. To prove to herself that she had truly outgrown her desperate beginnings. Meeting Finon was a test-a way to show that she was no longer the scared girl running from her past. She was the predator now, a survivor who thrived in the chaos of Nar Shaddaa, forged by this crucible instead of broken. With a deep breath, Vashra adjusted her jacket and tucked a stray strand of blue-dyed hair behind her ear. She stepped off the platform and into the fray, heart pounding not just from the thrill of returning home, but from the anticipation of seeing Finon again.
In this city of lost dreams and broken promises, she steeled herself for whatever lay ahead. She would face it head-on, armed with the knowledge that she was no longer a victim of her circumstances. She was Vashra Foss, and she had stronger, harder and meaner than this place.
She got this. She was willing to trust Finon but if he ever betrayed that trust….
Then she would be as unforgiving as the jungle they had both grown up in.
Finon Nalle
