It’s a cruel galaxy out there…
And life had thrust Vara into the thick of it, from the day she could walk and talk. Born in the backwater gutter of Mon Gazza in the Mid Rim, she was not spared from the unforgiving, choking clutches of poverty; The air, noxious and stale, and the future as bleak as the urban decay of the capital, Miner’s Town, the right to life was decided by grit, endurance and labor.
As such, a formal education was forced to take a backseat; The Third-born was held to the same expectations her siblings -Korr, Nysa, and Jek- were withheld to, by Sera and Rask Vasha, their dear mother and father.
She was to pull her weight, just like the rest of them. One way or the other. Earn her keep, and benefit the family.
Her childhood swept past her in a dash as the years passed in between labor; devoid of shape, of color. It was hard to remember; days felt the same. The air as poisonous and bleak as ever. Faces and voices blurred together, like a memory cast aside and locked away to never see the light of day. Though as harsh as life was for them, despite how asphyxiating it felt to breathe at times, the love of family was not forsaken from them, no matter the strain and stress, their familial bonds proved strong.
But the harsh lessons, and the toll of it all? Never forgotten, nor could be hidden; neither her rage and rebellion, her desires never agreeing with that of his family. Always dreaming of a future, she refused to lose hope and find herself forced to think of what they might eat for dinner that night for the rest of her life.
And eventually, she took her leave in the wake of a particularly nasty fight. Barely any creds to her name, she fit all her belongings to a weathered old duffel bag and went, in search of a future, wherever that could lead her, for there was none to hold onto where she was.
