Tieru Ocarre
Dec 15th, 2007, 04:40:59 PM
Episode Life: Channel Zero
The air stinked.
One inhale told the tale, and Tieru hated the ending. Stims perfumed the air in a stench he had come to happily forgot over the past months. The old, yet young Jedi had been cast to the shadows once more as his Master sought the others out. Apparantly there was a signature through the Force and required his sole investigation. The terminology used in their last conversation was purposely confusing, and left the refined Padawan wanting more. Yet, his wants and desires were not in his Master's priority listing. There was more at stake than his personal problems, and so he was off again in space drifting amongst the bunches in hopes of that fateful day of return coming soon.
The forthcoming day had only been pending for a week, but the Padawan was impatient. Life without the studies had grown uncomfortable. Everyday without his Master reminded him of the days back at the Temple even more than with him, and the agonizing memories triggered a saddness he had strived to lose in the years of the Empire's reign. The Iron Grip of Palpatine had squeezed out many foes, but also their purposes. Tieru had to be reacquainted with the hollow life without the Jedi code, and he had grown to frown upon the pettiness he knew.
Tatooine suns baked above. The cantina sizzled with breathes, drunkards and aliens he couldn't remember encountering before. Mos Eisley was a rare place amidst the galaxy, but it was no gem or diamond. The roughins that patrolled the cantina seemed more like stalkers than patrons, and the bartender was always growling at somebody. Business continued to storm with faces, but Tieru wasn't comfortable. In the darkness of the corners, he sat alone, hood over his head and drink in his hand as he watched the pointless day fade away.
Basically, the lil' ol Jedi was depressed.
The door opened and closed with new faces. Outlaws sled in with little chatter, and scum stuck to the walls and grounds like...scum. The Padawan gazed from the refuge of his hood with careful eyes. Cautious of even the slightest sign, he kept his movements subtle as he sipped on the cool, brisk water. It seemed the only thing Tieru liked about the place was the water, but he seemed to pay it no mind. The most attention he gave was to a paticular woman across the room. She didn't give him even a glance, although it was clear that she felt his eyes burning through his skin.
He kept quiet, and watched her leave. A frown touched his lips, taking in another sip of his water as the music played from the distance. The entertainment on this Mos Eisley mid-day was a new band from Ithor. So far, Tieru wouldn't give their show anything more than a C on the ratings..
The air stinked.
One inhale told the tale, and Tieru hated the ending. Stims perfumed the air in a stench he had come to happily forgot over the past months. The old, yet young Jedi had been cast to the shadows once more as his Master sought the others out. Apparantly there was a signature through the Force and required his sole investigation. The terminology used in their last conversation was purposely confusing, and left the refined Padawan wanting more. Yet, his wants and desires were not in his Master's priority listing. There was more at stake than his personal problems, and so he was off again in space drifting amongst the bunches in hopes of that fateful day of return coming soon.
The forthcoming day had only been pending for a week, but the Padawan was impatient. Life without the studies had grown uncomfortable. Everyday without his Master reminded him of the days back at the Temple even more than with him, and the agonizing memories triggered a saddness he had strived to lose in the years of the Empire's reign. The Iron Grip of Palpatine had squeezed out many foes, but also their purposes. Tieru had to be reacquainted with the hollow life without the Jedi code, and he had grown to frown upon the pettiness he knew.
Tatooine suns baked above. The cantina sizzled with breathes, drunkards and aliens he couldn't remember encountering before. Mos Eisley was a rare place amidst the galaxy, but it was no gem or diamond. The roughins that patrolled the cantina seemed more like stalkers than patrons, and the bartender was always growling at somebody. Business continued to storm with faces, but Tieru wasn't comfortable. In the darkness of the corners, he sat alone, hood over his head and drink in his hand as he watched the pointless day fade away.
Basically, the lil' ol Jedi was depressed.
The door opened and closed with new faces. Outlaws sled in with little chatter, and scum stuck to the walls and grounds like...scum. The Padawan gazed from the refuge of his hood with careful eyes. Cautious of even the slightest sign, he kept his movements subtle as he sipped on the cool, brisk water. It seemed the only thing Tieru liked about the place was the water, but he seemed to pay it no mind. The most attention he gave was to a paticular woman across the room. She didn't give him even a glance, although it was clear that she felt his eyes burning through his skin.
He kept quiet, and watched her leave. A frown touched his lips, taking in another sip of his water as the music played from the distance. The entertainment on this Mos Eisley mid-day was a new band from Ithor. So far, Tieru wouldn't give their show anything more than a C on the ratings..