Private Treading the Thin Line

[The Nomad]

L I S T E N I N G

Tag: Skyler

The Trawl.

The Nomad sat in a dimly-lit room, sparsely furnished by only a desk, a shaded light, and an old metal chair on which he sat. A brilliant green coin, faded with age, tumbled through the cowled man's dexterous fingers. In the shadow of his hood, his eyes were a pit-black, but shone with intelligence and the subdued ferocity of a predatory animal.

He may be at the Ophidian Dusk headquarters -- the massive complex that stood on pillars high above the crashing, stormy seas of Ando -- but wherever he could, the Nomad preferred to stray from opulence, choosing areas that only added to his mysterious aesthetic. And besides, in a quieter section of the Trawl like this, most people tended to leave him alone, which was just how he liked it. Without so many beings of lesser minds crowding his senses, he was free to explore the Force as he pleased, to feel its push and pull and to tread among the thin lines that were interwoven by it throughout the galaxy. The only catch was, the Nomad had once been a mindless being attached, no, restrained by those threads; but now, he was free.

His thoughts were broken by a ping on the comm system. A ship had broken atmosphere, unidentified but bearing the Ophidian Token. The Nomad sat up slightly straighter in his chair. This could be interesting.
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[Skyler]

Skyler awoke with a splitting headache. A plethora of empty glass bottles clattered and rolled along the hull of the modified u-wing, a brown one with a few drops of lum leftover rolled into Skyler's forehead. Feathered-strands of purple shifted along the wayward oracle's brow as she winced. The ship's alerts were certainly not helping her headache.

"Oh kark," she growled and finally opened her eyes, squinting at the light between that hair of hers.

She forced herself to sit up, then get to her feet. Then pull herself up those short stairs to the cockpit where things had been set on autopilot. A glare at the controls and the coin locked into the nav-computer as if to blame it. Eyes shifted to view the raging splatters of rain on her viewport. The stormy seas. The massive trawler the ship was going toward as if pulled on an invisible leash.

The young woman's scowl widened.

Whelp, might as well get this over with. She didn't even remember where she'd come from. How she'd gotten the coin or why the kriff she'd followed what was on it. The ship rocked and swayed slightly as it settled into above-water hanger. Sheltered finally from the sheets of rain it had experienced only a moment ago.

Straightening her jacket and checking the settings on her blaster, Skyler finally smacked the button to open the doors of her ship, making the short journey to exit.

The Nomad

 

[The Nomad]

V A G R A N T

Tag: Skyler

The Nomad's trench coat-style Cloak flapped against the wind as he left the safety of the Trawl's network of inside corridors, protected from the winds and the rains, to the harsh Ando weather that pounded the oceanic station near-constantly. It was rare that the Trawl received visitors unannounced; even rarer that they bore the Ophidian Token, a sure sign of the manipulation of the Force and Fate.

Passing through an open airlock -- not a complete necessity, as the atmosphere of Ando was standard enough to breathe in, but it did help keep the wet out -- he stepped out onto the above-water landing pad, watching as the ship that had been identified by the Trawl's aerospace control tower make the best landing it could in the given conditions, swaying and rocking as doubtlessly the ship's autopilot tried to adjust for Ando's perpetual storms and gales. But at long last the ship touched down, and the telltale whirs of a rusted tractor beam revving up indicated that only a major accident or act of sabotage would be able to blow the ship off of its pad.

Not a moment later, who the Nomad presumed to be the ship's captain and bearer of the token disembarked: a young woman, some sort of Vahlan half-breed by the looks of it, with an extreme portent and daresay dangerous aura in the surrounding Force. The Nomad's eyebrow shifted imperceptibly upwards as he sensed those things, but otherwise gave no physical indication of his gauging of her abilities. Instead, he nodded his head upwards at her, his hands at his waist. "Welcome, sister," he shouted over the storm. "What brings you," he motioned with one hand in a wide-sweeping motion to the rain, gale and churning seas below while the other remained at his waist, "to our little paradise?" he asked, his tone with the word paradise obviously sarcastic.
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[Skyler]

Hazel eyes with flecks of swirling gold amid browns and greens darted around the cavernous space. Assessing threats. The place itself. The man before her. Wary stance kept her not too far from her ship's open door as the station's shielding kept the rain from pelting against her skin and into her clothing. Hands shoved into her flight jacket.

"Sister?" She huffed.

"You tell me," she smoothed out her features, trying to keep control of letting any of her emotions show. Something she wasn't the best at and even worse so when she was drunk. At least she was....sober for once.

"Who are you?"