Private Small Spaces in Big Places

[Meri Vale]

Theed Nexus Transfer Station was neither loud nor quiet. It lived in a strange middle ground where everything blended into a steady hum—voices overlapping, boarding calls chiming from overhead displays, the rising whine of repulsorlifts, and the soft hiss of pressure doors cycling open along the concourse. It was one of the busiest public transport hubs in the Mid-Rim, and somehow it felt even busier today.

Meri stayed close to the wall, tucked beside a row of info-kiosks that flickered with arrival times. Her notebook rested lightly against her chest, fingers worrying at its frayed corner as she watched the crowds flow around her in constant, shifting currents. People moved like tides—splitting, merging, circling—and she tried very hard to keep herself outside every pattern.

Her shuttle to the Academy was delayed.
Again.

She didn't mind the wait itself.
It was the waiting where others could see her that made her stomach tighten. Every sudden laugh, every sharp footstep, every shout across the concourse made her shoulders twitch just a little more.

It's fine. Just a little longer. Don't get in anyone's way.

She stepped back half a pace to give more room to a family and their luggage droids as they hurried by. Her braid slipped forward over her shoulder, brushing her collarbone as she lowered her head and pretended to focus on the departure board instead of the people around her.

That was when a shadow passed across the luminous tiles—slow, heavy, deliberate. Meri felt the shift before she understood it, her body tensing instinctively as her senses tightened around the approaching presence.

Someone enormous had entered the concourse.

It wasn't their volume that caught her attention; they weren't loud at all. It was their presence, solid and undeniable, like a boulder settled in the middle of a stream, gently bending the world around it. Even the air seemed to change, carrying a faint ripple as the footsteps grew closer amid the station's ambient hum.

Curiosity lifted her gaze before she could stop herself. Fur. Broad shoulders. A silhouette rising above the moving crowd like a living mountain. A Togorian—female—towering well over seven feet. She moved with a quiet, self-contained strength, every stride purposeful and balanced. Her tail swayed in an easy, measured rhythm, the motion of someone entirely at home in their own body, even in spaces built smaller than they were. A predator's grace softened by the practical wear of a traveler.

Meri's breath cinched tight.

Instinct urged her to shrink, to take up less space, so she edged closer to the kiosk beside her, tucking herself into the narrow gap between its curve and the wall. It wasn't hiding, not precisely—just an attempt to become less noticeable. Less in the way.

"Sorry," she whispered automatically, though the Togorian hadn't been anywhere near colliding with her.

The word dissolved into the general noise before it reached anyone's ears.

At first, the giant feline didn't seem aware of her at all. She continued forward with soft, steady steps that Meri could feel humming faintly through the floor. Meri almost let herself relax—until the Togorian's stride slowed.

Then stopped.

Meri went still, heart fluttering against her ribs in an uneven rhythm. Had she done something wrong? Moved unexpectedly? Drawn attention, she hadn't meant to?

Her gaze dropped instantly toward the floor, braid slipping further down her shoulder as she tightened her grip on her notebook. She focused on her breathing—slow, quiet, controlled—willing herself to stay small, unthreatening, unobtrusive.

She didn't look up again. Not yet. Not until she felt the moment shift into something safer than uncertainty.

Maur

 

[Maur]

The concourse was busy. Crowded. Loud. Maur would have preferred to be somewhere much quieter but noise was a small price to pay for civilization. Granted, at this particular time, the noise grated on her already irritated nerves as she stalked through the station. And that was after she had time to cool off after getting screwed over from her last job. What was supposed to be a nice down payment on a new vocoder was now a tenth of it, thanks to Pretty Boy's trumped up criticisms. Maur's lip lifted in a sneer ever so slightly. She had performed her job to the letter but the human had his full security team with him.

It did not help when someone bumped into her, despite her size. Without an apology, no less. Maur silently growled at the too-busy-for-manners being, the almost-sound lost in all the noise.

She huffed and rolled her shoulders, adjusting the straps to the duffel that held her worldly possessions. A foul mood wasn't going to help her get credits. She just had to find her next job. It was a shame it wouldn't be on Naboo anymore--the world had a nice blend of technology and nature, something that reminded her of her homeworld. But Pretty Boy had ruined it for her.

The departure boards were situated on a wall near a row of kiosks displaying arrival times. Maur strode over, more careful of her surroundings than that one rude idot had been, and stopped next to the kiosks to peruse the departure boards. Where would she likely get a decent job that wouldn't cost an arm and a leg to get to?

The sharp tang of fear cut through the overwhelming scents of the crowd. Discreetly, Maur looked around her, mostly down at the heads of the generally shorter beings. Nothing obvious caught her eye. Maur frowned and listened harder, filtering through the sounds around her. Based on the strength of the fear scent, whoever it was stood nearby. Conversations, boarding calls, the kiosks' droids, and softer, almost unnoticeable under the noise, breathing. Controlled. Manual. The kind of breathing one did when they were trying to hide. Next to her. Maur looked further down.

She almost missed the small human curled into the space between the kiosk and the wall. Maur's head tilted slightly. The averted gaze, the way the little female was nearly curled into herself, the disciplined breathing--this was the source of the fear scent. Maur looked around but saw no obvious threat, no reason for the small thing to--Oh.

Slowly, Maur took a step back and lowered herself to a knee, the way she would if she were trying to help a wounded and frightened animal.

[[Are you okay?]] she signed with her hands. It was a risk but more civilized worlds like Naboo had many creatures with diverse languages coming through it. Surely, one of the galactic sign languages was taught here. If not, she could always pull out the text-to-speech program on her datapad.

The human female was small, frail-looking. Young too, if Maur guessed right but she wasn't wholly sure about human aging. Possibly an adolescent, but then, where was this kit's family? Maur waited for a response patiently. Her many questions could wait until her first and most important question was answered.


Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri hadn't realized the Togorian had stopped until the light on the floor shifted again, the broad shadow no longer passing by but settling beside her. The air changed with it—no longer carrying the weight of someone moving through the crowd, but something quieter, steadier, more intentionally present.

For an instant, her breath caught, her body bracing without thought.
Then the movement of the Togorian's hands registered.

Sign language.

Clear, deliberate shapes—one of the standardized galactic dialects she had studied.
Are you okay?

The question softened something inside her. Not enough to erase the tension in her shoulders, but enough to let her breathe again.

She nodded once, a small, uncertain gesture, then lifted her own hands. Her fingers trembled at first, but her signing was careful and exact—academic, practiced, not yet confident.

[[I'm all right,]] she signed gently. Her gaze dipped in quiet apology. [[It's just…a lot of people. A lot of noise. I didn't mean to be in the way.]]

A brief gesture followed—polite, almost shy—the sign for thank you for asking. She held her notebook close as she signed, using it like an anchor to steady her hands and her breathing.

After a moment, she continued, slower but more sure.

[[You didn't do anything wrong. I just get overwhelmed sometimes. Please don't worry.]]

Her hands lowered softly to rest against the worn cover of her notebook. She didn't shrink back further into the wall, though; the Togorian's presence, immense as it was, carried no threat. Just calm—just concern.

Meri looked up again, only for a heartbeat, her expression small but sincere.

[[Thank you,]] she signed, the motion smooth, quiet, and earnest.
[[For stopping. And for asking.]]

The words in her hands were steadier than her voice would have been.

Maur

 

[Maur]

Maur watched the little female's body language, her breathing becoming more natural. Her hands lifted and started making precise motions. Sign language. Her ears swivelled forward and her eyes brightened, the tail curled close around her thumping once. Finally, someone spoke her language. The human--or near-human kit's signs were slow and she did glance away during her signing. It would have ordinarily signalled an end to the conversation but that was an etiquette most unimpaired beings didn't know. The Togorian listened intently, noting facial expressions as well as body language, in addition to the signing. Those too were also part of the conversation.

She didn't like the implications of the body language. The small human or near-human did not make eye contact except once, kept herself small, apologized for taking up space that no one missed. She held onto a notebook of some kind like a security blanket.

[[You're welcome,]] Maur signed. [[And only an idiot would say you were in the way.]]

Maur's hands hesitated but she didn't look away and kept signing after a moment. [[You seem . . . young. Do you have people with you?]]

"People" seemed a safer choice than "family." She'd seen her fair share of orphans and less traditional units of tribe. Maur wanted to make sure this little one had someone watching her back. Especially considering the body language that reeked of having been prey before.



Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri watched Maur's hands, relieved to see the signs flow so clearly. The Togorian's ease with the language steadied her more than she expected; it was rare to meet someone who used it fluently outside formal study spaces. The soft thump of Maur's tail against the floor even pulled the faintest warmth into Meri's chest—a reaction she didn't quite understand but didn't shy away from.

She lifted her hands again, slower this time, but with more certainty. [[Thank you,]] she signed back, the motion small but sincere.

Maur's next question made her hesitate. Not out of fear of the Togorian—but out of the weight the question carried. Do you have people with you? It was gentle. It was protective. It was also a reminder that she was, indeed, alone.

Her hands moved carefully. [[No,]] she signed, fingers curling inward just slightly as if bracing for judgment. A brief pause, her eyes lowering. [[I'm traveling by myself.]]

She didn't add anything about the Academy, or her studies, or why she was here. Those explanations never came easily. The truth was simpler, even if it sat heavy in her chest.

She tightened her hold on her notebook for a moment, then signed again, softer.

[[My name is Meri. Meri Vale.]]

She risked a glance upward—not quite meeting Maur's eyes, but close as if trying to reassure the Togorian that she was telling the truth, that she wasn't lost or abandoned. Just…alone.

[[It's nice to meet you,]] she finished, the signs almost shy in the way they curled toward her body.

Her fingers lowered slowly afterward, hovering near the notebook, ready to sign again if Maur asked.

Maur

 

[Maur]

The kit was alone. Traveling but alone. Maur supposed that allowing kits to travel by themselves was a common practice among humans and near-humans but it wasn't one she really approved of. For starters, kits didn't have the skill or strength adults did. The little female seemed to curl into herself or tense, as if expecting ... something. An attack maybe? Maur settled into a sitting position on the floor of the station, still towering over the girl.

Meri Vale. With a glance that didn't meet Maur's eyes. Maur nodded, as greeting and acknowledgement. The little female--Meri still seemed tense, afraid maybe.

[[I'm Maur,]] she signed, spelling out the name first and then showing the sign for her name, slowly so that Meri could see. [[I can hear but if you prefer to sign, it's so nice to meet someone that can.]]

The idea that Meri Vale, small, scared Meri Vale, was having to travel by herself still didn't sit well with her. Clearly, the kit was afraid for a reason--perhaps something old or recent in her past. Her left ear twitched as she considered her own options. She could ignore Meri Vale's lack of tribe and go about her own business.

Or.

[[I'm not yet decided on my own destination yet,]] she signed again. [[Would you like a traveling companion?]]



Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri hesitated at first—hands hovering uncertainly in the small space between them—but when she saw the patience in Maur's posture, the way the Togorian sat low to the ground so she wouldn't loom quite so much, something in Meri eased.

She lifted her hands again, slow and deliberate, fingers shaping each sign with the precision of someone who uses language as a shield and a lifeline both.

[[Thank you.]] A small dip of her head accompanied it.

She glanced briefly upward, not quite meeting Maur's eyes but close enough to show she was trying.

[[I… prefer signing.]] A tiny pause. [[Talking is harder.]]

Her posture softened by the slightest degree—shoulders less hunched, breath a little steadier—as she signed her next words.

[[And… yes.]] Her fingers paused mid-motion, as though testing the truth of what she was about to admit.

[[I would like a companion.]]

A beat—small, earnest, vulnerable.

[[If you don't mind traveling with someone… quiet.]]

Her braid slid forward over her shoulder as she tucked her notebook closer, cradling it like something precious. Then, with a touch more courage than before: [[Thank you, Maur.]]

Not just for the offer—but for seeing her and not stepping away.

Maur

 

[Maur]

Meri signed her language preference and Maur smiled, careful not to show her teeth--she'd learned that could unsettle some other sentients. It would be nice to have someone that could speak her language and not have to rely on a text-to-speech program or even a protocol droid. Translation just took forever.

The girl's acceptance of her offer settled in her chest with a warmth she hadn't expected. Maur supposed it was because being seen as more than just a walking mass of fur, teeth, and claws, as more than a predator, was nice in social situations. The other perception suited her fine when she was on the job but she was sentient too. Being away from her homeworld this long was hard and isolating and sometimes, she just wanted a nice conversation.

But then Meri qualified her acceptance with a If you don't mind traveling with someone... quiet.

Maur blinked once, twice, slowly. Then silent huffs of air came from her nose and mouth as her chest started shaking. She laughed, hard, and forced herself to regain composure before she signed back.

[[If I minded silence, I would have gone crazy a while ago.]]

Her tail thumped once as she smiled at Meri. [[And you are most welcome.]]

[[So then, where are we headed?]] Maur asked. [[I'll need to know so I can get a ticket.]]



Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri watched Maur's laughter with wide eyes at first, startled by the sudden sound—but when she realized it was laughter, not mockery or threat, the tension in her shoulders eased. The corners of her mouth lifted just slightly, tentative but real.

She lifted her hands again, more confidently now.

[[I'm glad,]] she signed, the motion small and sincere. [[I like quiet. It makes things… easier to think.]]

When Maur asked where they were headed, Meri didn't hesitate. This, at least, was simple.

[[Naboo,]] she signed. She spelled it out once as well, careful and precise.

Her expression softened as she continued.

[[I'm going there to study. The architecture…the older places.]] A pause, then, almost apologetically: [[And because it feels calm there.]]

Her fingers lowered briefly to rest against her notebook, then lifted again.

[[I've never traveled with someone before,]] she admitted quietly in her signing. [[Thank you…for choosing to come with me.]]

She dipped her head in a small, respectful gesture—less formal than before, more personal.

[[I think Naboo will be nicer…with company.]]

Maur

 

[Maur]

Maur smiled as Meri thanked her and ducked her head, more familiar than purely polite, keeping her confusion off her face. The implications of that didn't give Maur pleasant feelings.

[[The pleasure is mine,]] Maur signed. [[Like I said, it's nice to speak with someone who knows my language.]]

She rose slowly, the kit still giving off the impression that she'd flee if Maur made any sudden movements. [[I'll get my ticket to Naboo, then.]]

Meri's chosen spot to wait and make herself small was incredibly convenient for their new joint endeavor. The kiosks she'd taken refuge beside provided tickets as well as information about arrivals. Maur took two steps over to a kiosk and began the process of buying a ticket for Naboo. As she did, she mulled over how her day had changed in nearly the blink of an eye. From grumbling about a deal gone bad and little pay to essentially taking on a new job for free. She still didn't like all the hazy implications and possible causes for Meri's skittishness. Naboo was generally civilized and while it was no Alderaan, it was in the heart of the High Republic. Safe from galactic conflict at the least, and the interim High Chancellor seemed to take civil safety seriously. Meri would probably be safe on Naboo, at this academy she wanted to attend.

But maybe Maur should take jobs closer to Naboo, in case something happened. Old ruins could have any number of nasty surprises in them and legends had a way of drawing treasure hunters and less savory characters to them. She would know.

Ticket purchased, she returned to Meri and crouched again to be on the same level. She flashed it at her, holding it between two fingers before tucking it into an inner pocket of her jacket.

[[It's done,]] she signed. [[But if you have second thoughts, let me know. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. If, however, you're okay with this, have you eaten recently? It doesn't look like the transport's leaving soon and I could go for some food.]]

It wasn't a lie but Maur definitely wasn't asking for her own benefit. The poor kit looked like she could stand to eat more. Goodness knows the women she knew back on Togoria would have definitely made sure Meri had more food than she knew what to do with.



Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri watched Maur move to the kiosk, her posture staying small but no longer quite as tightly drawn in on itself. When Maur returned and crouched again, Meri's shoulders eased just a little more. Being met at eye level mattered.

Her gaze flicked to the ticket, then back to Maur's hands as she signed.

[[Thank you.]]
The words were careful, sincere.

At the question, she hesitated—just a beat too long to be accidental. Her fingers hovered, then resumed, slower now.

[[I… haven't eaten today.]]

A flicker of embarrassment crossed her expression, and she dipped her head slightly, braid sliding forward.

[[I didn't mean to skip it. I just… forgot.]]

She glanced briefly toward the concourse, then back to Maur, uncertainty still there but softened by trust.

[[If it's all right,]] she added, signing smaller now, [[I would like to get something.]]

A pause. Then, quietly:

[[And…I'm okay with this. Traveling together.]]

She tucked her notebook closer to her chest again—not as a shield this time, but as a familiar comfort—and waited, hopeful but careful, ready to follow Maur wherever food and a little calm might be found.

Maur

 

[Maur]

One of Maur's ears twitched and the tip of her tail flicked once but those were the only signs of her worry. She hadn't gotten as far as she had in her mercenary work by displaying all of her emotions the way some male Togorians did. But Meri's explanation sparked more questions. Was it actual forgetfulness or was it a cover for not having enough creds? How was the girl paying for her tuition? Scholarship? Solo expeditions into the ruins that she mentioned? Maur hoped there were people waiting for Meri at her destination.

[[Then let's grab some food,]] she signed. [[I can smell something good further down.]]

Maur offered her hand and stood after Meri got up. The crowd was still pretty thick as people made their way to and from transports and the departure platforms, but most moved around Maur like water around a rock. Maur moved at a steady pace but not as fast as she normally did, aware that the size difference between herself and Meri would have a significant impact on their strides.

Vendors selling food from different stations lined a wall not terribly far--by Maur's standards--from the kiosks where she found Meri. Maur slowed and turned to the kit.

[[So what are you thinking?]] Maur asked. [[Take your pick.]]

She held out creds for Meri, enough to cover whatever the girl chose. And until Meri got her food, Maur wasn't going to get any. Just to make sure the kit got enough.



Meri Vale

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri hesitated when Maur offered the creds, instinct kicking in before hunger could answer for her. Her hands lifted halfway, then paused, fingers hovering as if unsure where to land.

She shook her head once, small and reflexive.

[[You don't have to—]] she began, then stopped herself. Her shoulders drew in slightly, but she forced herself to finish the thought rather than retreat from it. [[I mean…thank you. That's very kind. I just—]]

She took a quiet breath and looked at the row of vendors, the steam rising from grills and warmers, the smells finally breaking through the knot in her stomach. Her hand drifted, pointing hesitantly toward one stall in particular.

[[That one,]] she signed, a little more confidently now. [[Something simple. I think… soup, or flatbread.]]
A pause, then, softer: [[Warm things help me think.]]

She glanced back up at Maur, eyes earnest. [[I can pay you back later. When I can.]] Not defensive—just honest. [[I don't forget meals because I don't want them. I…lose track of time.]]

As they started forward again, Meri stayed close at Maur's side, careful not to rush or lag behind. The crowd still pressed in, but it felt different now—manageable, anchored.

After a moment, she added, quieter, almost thoughtful: [[I'm thinking… Naboo will be calmer than this.]] A small pause. [[I hope.]]

Her fingers curled lightly around the strap of her satchel as they walked, hunger finally outweighing nerves, trust growing in the simple act of being guided rather than having to decide everything alone.

Maur