Evelyn Roslin
Member
OOC: Occurs shortly after the events of You Can't Always Get What You Want
IC:
"I'm not sure this was such a good idea."
Hazel eyes nervously surveyed the plaza in front of them, and Evelyn picked at a loose thread on her forest-green, long-sleeved and hooded top. It had been a hasty and recent purchase, as was the rest of her outfit. Her clothes from the night before were too splattered with blood and bits of brain matter to be good for anything other than incineration, as far as she was concerned.
She tried her best to avoid the memory of the wet crunching the metal bar made when it caved in Dendric's skull, inhaling and exhaling a bit shakily. The young woman was still struggling to come to terms with her actions, filled with guilt, horror - and most disturbingly - a sense of satisfaction at how good it felt to give in to her anger that night.
He murdered the man I loved. Ripped my life to shreds. Was it so wrong, that I took his life in return?
It was a question she once believed she knew the answer to - but now, she wasn't so sure. Morality, like the rest of her emotions, seemed to be shifting in a strange and unfamiliar way that left Evelyn thoroughly disoriented.
Now, dusk was falling on Coruscant, the ever-present neon lights glowing brighter as the sun faded. A misting of rain fell, keeping most passerby moving along without pausing to take in the two stationary figures. Next to her, Nicair, the Mandalorian who'd inexplicably whisked her to safety with blood still warm on her hands, stood impassively.
He'd warned her that the rest of Dendric's gang would be looking for her, once they figured out she was responsible for their comrade's sudden and gruesome end. It didn't help that several of them watched him walk out of the bar with her that night.
Now, he'd suggested surveying a few areas for intelligence, to get a better idea of what they were up against. Across the plaza, a few establishments frequented by local gangs in the area seemed like a decent enough place to start. Self-consciously, Evelyn adjusted the hood over her head.
"What are we supposed to be looking for?"
She'd served in the Army, but as a logistics officer, not intel. She could scan for threats to convoys, sure, but an intel op was more than a little outside her wheelhouse.
[member="Nicair Claden"]
IC:
"I'm not sure this was such a good idea."
Hazel eyes nervously surveyed the plaza in front of them, and Evelyn picked at a loose thread on her forest-green, long-sleeved and hooded top. It had been a hasty and recent purchase, as was the rest of her outfit. Her clothes from the night before were too splattered with blood and bits of brain matter to be good for anything other than incineration, as far as she was concerned.
She tried her best to avoid the memory of the wet crunching the metal bar made when it caved in Dendric's skull, inhaling and exhaling a bit shakily. The young woman was still struggling to come to terms with her actions, filled with guilt, horror - and most disturbingly - a sense of satisfaction at how good it felt to give in to her anger that night.
He murdered the man I loved. Ripped my life to shreds. Was it so wrong, that I took his life in return?
It was a question she once believed she knew the answer to - but now, she wasn't so sure. Morality, like the rest of her emotions, seemed to be shifting in a strange and unfamiliar way that left Evelyn thoroughly disoriented.
Now, dusk was falling on Coruscant, the ever-present neon lights glowing brighter as the sun faded. A misting of rain fell, keeping most passerby moving along without pausing to take in the two stationary figures. Next to her, Nicair, the Mandalorian who'd inexplicably whisked her to safety with blood still warm on her hands, stood impassively.
He'd warned her that the rest of Dendric's gang would be looking for her, once they figured out she was responsible for their comrade's sudden and gruesome end. It didn't help that several of them watched him walk out of the bar with her that night.
Now, he'd suggested surveying a few areas for intelligence, to get a better idea of what they were up against. Across the plaza, a few establishments frequented by local gangs in the area seemed like a decent enough place to start. Self-consciously, Evelyn adjusted the hood over her head.
"What are we supposed to be looking for?"
She'd served in the Army, but as a logistics officer, not intel. She could scan for threats to convoys, sure, but an intel op was more than a little outside her wheelhouse.
[member="Nicair Claden"]