Sejah Haversh
Jul 4th, 2002, 12:07:13 AM
Seven letters. Each postmarked from his hometown.
Seven letters in the last four days, and all the envelopes empty except for one.
Sejah turned it over in his paws as he sat at his table. It was fine paper, white with a 25% cotton weave to it, adn a light texture. A watermark of the company that produced it was visible when he held it up to teh light, and it had been folded into thirds by hand before it had been stuffed into the envelope.
It was also blank, except for the bottom right corner where a faint brown ink had left a mark he recognized. Sejah was going to get a visitor. A visitor he could do without for the moment. Lifting the page, the mongoose sniffed it again.
Cigarette smoke, expensive tobacco from the eastern fields of H'karrajash, a prime tobacco growing area on Nehantish, his homeworld. The paper might as well have been completely blank, he knew the smell so well. But the mark was there just to make sure he couldn't mistake it.
Seven letters, six empty. The only page blank. An onld friend was coming.
Folding the paper once more, Sejah returned it to the inner layer of his vest and then stood up, makign his way to the bar, his face daunted by his own personal demons. "Tom Collins, with a slice of lemon, too," He said to the barkeep, who mixed hsi drink for him. "Thanks, bottle of gin, too. And a couple more lemons."
Recieving the order, Sejah went back and sat at his table alone. He hadn't drank much since he came to the Jedi complex, but, this was different. Lifting the Tom Collins to his lips, he took a sip and sighed, then rememberign to squeeze the lemon into it. The bitterness gone, he took another drink, and thought abotu wat was coming.
Seven letters.
Seven letters in the last four days, and all the envelopes empty except for one.
Sejah turned it over in his paws as he sat at his table. It was fine paper, white with a 25% cotton weave to it, adn a light texture. A watermark of the company that produced it was visible when he held it up to teh light, and it had been folded into thirds by hand before it had been stuffed into the envelope.
It was also blank, except for the bottom right corner where a faint brown ink had left a mark he recognized. Sejah was going to get a visitor. A visitor he could do without for the moment. Lifting the page, the mongoose sniffed it again.
Cigarette smoke, expensive tobacco from the eastern fields of H'karrajash, a prime tobacco growing area on Nehantish, his homeworld. The paper might as well have been completely blank, he knew the smell so well. But the mark was there just to make sure he couldn't mistake it.
Seven letters, six empty. The only page blank. An onld friend was coming.
Folding the paper once more, Sejah returned it to the inner layer of his vest and then stood up, makign his way to the bar, his face daunted by his own personal demons. "Tom Collins, with a slice of lemon, too," He said to the barkeep, who mixed hsi drink for him. "Thanks, bottle of gin, too. And a couple more lemons."
Recieving the order, Sejah went back and sat at his table alone. He hadn't drank much since he came to the Jedi complex, but, this was different. Lifting the Tom Collins to his lips, he took a sip and sighed, then rememberign to squeeze the lemon into it. The bitterness gone, he took another drink, and thought abotu wat was coming.
Seven letters.