Caelia Lamora
Trouble
Objective One - The Heart of a Cause
The plaza before the spacesport of Arian was bustling with activity. Every which way she turned there were crowds of people, all manner of species, chattering and going about their business. She heard at least three different languages, though she spoke only one of them. In truth, they could have been different dialects, but Tomoe tried not to pay attention to them. There was enough noise just from the many transports and personal speeders taking off and flying overhead.
Around here was what she gathered to be the marketplace attached to the spaceport. Countless kiosks and restaurants pressed against each other at every corner and wall, drawing people between them and the various ticket stands that were positioned about.
In this crowd Tomoe became just another person. To them she was just another girl, with medium long black hair that barely reached her shoulders with their tips, wearing simple dark blue khakis and a black shirt underneath a dark blue jacket of some cheap material. They did not know what she had done, but neither did she know their secrets. Everyone had skeletons, no one was innocent, and only few were blessed.
She stopped, distracted for a moment by a particular scent. After a brief exchange involving her pointing followed by an exchange of credits, she received a stick with some kind of charred piece of meat laced with a dark red sauce. The spices burned her tongue the second she bit into it. She liked it when it did that. The girl walked on, stick in hand.
The plaza before the spacesport of Arian was bustling with activity. Every which way she turned there were crowds of people, all manner of species, chattering and going about their business. She heard at least three different languages, though she spoke only one of them. In truth, they could have been different dialects, but Tomoe tried not to pay attention to them. There was enough noise just from the many transports and personal speeders taking off and flying overhead.
Around here was what she gathered to be the marketplace attached to the spaceport. Countless kiosks and restaurants pressed against each other at every corner and wall, drawing people between them and the various ticket stands that were positioned about.
In this crowd Tomoe became just another person. To them she was just another girl, with medium long black hair that barely reached her shoulders with their tips, wearing simple dark blue khakis and a black shirt underneath a dark blue jacket of some cheap material. They did not know what she had done, but neither did she know their secrets. Everyone had skeletons, no one was innocent, and only few were blessed.
She stopped, distracted for a moment by a particular scent. After a brief exchange involving her pointing followed by an exchange of credits, she received a stick with some kind of charred piece of meat laced with a dark red sauce. The spices burned her tongue the second she bit into it. She liked it when it did that. The girl walked on, stick in hand.
