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Sen Oisel
Oct 14th, 2006, 02:26:24 PM
Between Yesterday and Tomorrow

Life

A troubled whirlwind, flaring through events and submitting almost all to it's control. The tendrils of defeat clasp faith, hope and positives until distraught illustrates one's whole life. Embodied by the disdain of trials and tribulation few avenues remain for the living to walk with an illuminated path.

Darkness manages to encompass all when the galaxies shoulder drop down, allowing no room to evade or take refugee. Even faith is swindled, leaving man to tarry in emptiness, wishing for the return of hope. It is always hard to stay sane in the depression of opression. Pressed into a box, locked into turmoil, and backed into a small corner without a chance, allowing only a space to roll the dice.

The tide of time had casted itself on my beaches without a calling back to the ocean of beings. In the cloister, mistaken for my ship, I had managed to submit to the vice and emerge from slumber with anguish. Everyday merit my leer, and it seemed optimism had become an archiac word.

Smiles became faint. The liveliness seemingly always present around my grounds had evaporated with the reign splashing on my parade. Fun was the farthest topic from the ship. Instead the star shuttle was a ruggid wreck, placed together from parts of a junk yard on a backwater planet. A few names had been tied together, engineers acquainted and my umbrella placed above had garnered enough hull to catapult me back amidst the stars.

Still...it wasn't fun.

Worthlisness packed me along with a few blasters, and a crave for a few credits on a trip to Onderon. Word had passed through the sector that the planet had an invisible "Now Hiring" sign pasted along it. Without much more than a pair of clothes any stop was necessary if it would improve my income. The only thing of worth on my piece of poo-doo was an old Lannik PD droid that I wasn't prepared to give up.

Plus...I needed a few things cleaned up sometime. A protocol droid did a fine job plunging the toilet in the refresher too.

Lilaena De'Ville
Oct 16th, 2006, 12:04:23 PM
She was within the city again, no longer covered with the Mandalorian armour that seemed to be a second skin after almost a month of wearing nothing but. Lilaena pulled the brown woolen robe close, feeling the faint presence of her dead master in the weave of the cloth. An illusion, nothing more - A'na Eldhil was no more within the cloak than she was walking amongst the living.

She was hanging around inside the spaceport. Hawkins was around... somewhere. Technically it was his day off, but he never seemed to let her out of his sight, so he was probably practising concealment somewhere behind her. The spaceport was bustling - this week was when most of the offworld traders came for the month and most of the business was dealt in and around the primary port of the City.

Stepping into a small caf bar inside the spaceport, she ordered it plain and black in the small paper cup, and slid the appropriate number of credits across the counter.

Sen Oisel
Oct 18th, 2006, 09:27:09 AM
"Fri-frag-frigga..."

The sound dragged out as I sped up my step. A wayward foot had dropped on a small Sullustians engineer's hand and left a blazes of languages spitting derogatory terms. All sorts of faces riddled the hallways of spaceports, and Onderon was no different. People from an array of regions sought out Onderon as a hotbed for credits during such seasons, but I hoped a little of my savvy cut me a piece of the pie. Bodyguards, pilots, voyagers, and traders shuffled through lines as their goods were transported by artificial minds.

A mixture of automated and flesh forecast the crowds, but it was nothing new. Back on Anaxes droids weren't a rarity. At times on flights, all alone in space, I gained a sickness for home. The beauties of the galaxies could not rival the atmosphere of one's own bed, or the comfort of the streets that once were the stomping grounds.

Nothing at all could rival that feeling...

The thought came quick, and so did the change to my visage. A frown scour my lips until it conquered the two chops and turned their life upside down, as I scamper through the fields of beings. Few too many traders held the stench that couldn't be ignored, not even by a Bith. Before I knew it I had stumbled over, my senses in critical condition from the poo-doo ish dung-heads, in a caf bar.

Hopefully there I could catch a connect...or maybe something that smelled...decent

"Eek..."