Cedric Grayson
Ashlan Kaiser
It was the usual flight from Endor to the core worlds. A few shuttle jumps and three transit stations marked the path to Coruscant. Though the One Sith had control of the galactic capital, they could not hope to keep a handle on things by restricting traffic from worlds out of their influence. Thus, Darius made the monthly flight to the galactic capital for general goods: food, water, clothing, all the things the trading posts on Endor charged far too much for.
This shuttle was particularly empty. Coruscant was not the nicest place to be these days; the Galactic Alliance's assault on the Sith capital had seen to that. People were scared to make the journey. They were afraid they might get caught up in another raid. Thus, flights from Endor to the galactic center were sparsely populated. All the better for Darius; the trip costed bout half as much as it used to.
He was clad in the usual commoner's clothes. A simple hooded jacket, pants, combat boots, and a sawed-off scattergun for protection. Easy pickings for anyone with a bit of skill. Of course, Darius had absolutely no intention of getting into a situation that required him to actually use the scattergun. Dying did not seem like a good way to spend the weekend.
Of all the people on the shuttle, his eyes were locked on [member="Kinsey Starchaser"]. Why? Well, Darius was a nineteen year old male who scarcely ever saw human females, especially young ones, on the planet that he'd been forced to make his home. There was also the fact that he could sense the force around her. Nothing particularly tangible -- alignments, thoughts, those were blocked to him. He could, however, pick up a faint presence, as well as emotions.
What really mattered though was that he was staring. Staring. Staring. Staring. Staring.
This shuttle was particularly empty. Coruscant was not the nicest place to be these days; the Galactic Alliance's assault on the Sith capital had seen to that. People were scared to make the journey. They were afraid they might get caught up in another raid. Thus, flights from Endor to the galactic center were sparsely populated. All the better for Darius; the trip costed bout half as much as it used to.
He was clad in the usual commoner's clothes. A simple hooded jacket, pants, combat boots, and a sawed-off scattergun for protection. Easy pickings for anyone with a bit of skill. Of course, Darius had absolutely no intention of getting into a situation that required him to actually use the scattergun. Dying did not seem like a good way to spend the weekend.
Of all the people on the shuttle, his eyes were locked on [member="Kinsey Starchaser"]. Why? Well, Darius was a nineteen year old male who scarcely ever saw human females, especially young ones, on the planet that he'd been forced to make his home. There was also the fact that he could sense the force around her. Nothing particularly tangible -- alignments, thoughts, those were blocked to him. He could, however, pick up a faint presence, as well as emotions.
What really mattered though was that he was staring. Staring. Staring. Staring. Staring.