![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
For Valentine; No rest for the weary
Feb. 3rd, 2019 04:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
serenityevades[At first, Nar Shaddaa had been a powerful sight and experience. Colorful neon lighting the dark in brilliant displays. Packed with vibrant life like Coruscant, but more, all of these people from everywhere, Republic and Empire and everyone in between, with perhaps scorn but no violence.
And then he had found the violence. Sensed it the deeper into Imperial real estate he'd gone, a vaguely unsettling prickle of someone else's fear and then lots of someone elses, intensely, primally afraid and then they started vanishing. Dying. And beneath all that, the pain of overworked and mistreated slave labor throughout the facilities, the existential fear of sleeper agents waking up with missing memories, their original selves suppressed, and the horror of a man watching his allies hacked apart to facilitate it. He had felt others in hardship, he had been in the presence of people working themselves into panic. This was his first encounter of something so densely clustered, and it wreaked havoc on his emotions. Abric had been with him for a good deal of it, but another "duel" - a spar, really - with Oberon had seen them parting ways, Abric moving on while he stayed. The Sith that he, despite himself, was beginning to call a friend in his own mind, had insisted he rest, before departing for a task he himself needed to do.
He would find no rest, as he received a holocall almost immediately after leaving Imperial property. There was a gang - no, a cult, dedicated to some "Great Healer" that was supposed to be a Sith. The clash between name and ownership was suspect, and the owner was supposedly going to visit a certain cantina in the district he was headed for.
He slipped inside, and found he had met his limits. The relief of minds fuzzy with drink or actively enjoying themselves made it impossible not to just sit down, lean back into the booth and observe, and soak up the more comfortable atmosphere. Like a warm bath for the weary soul.
Discretion was never his forte. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. He makes no secret of watching people who are obviously Sith when they enter. Maybe it'd be normal for a Jedi to do so. He's counting on that and the local laws not landing him in further trouble.]
And then he had found the violence. Sensed it the deeper into Imperial real estate he'd gone, a vaguely unsettling prickle of someone else's fear and then lots of someone elses, intensely, primally afraid and then they started vanishing. Dying. And beneath all that, the pain of overworked and mistreated slave labor throughout the facilities, the existential fear of sleeper agents waking up with missing memories, their original selves suppressed, and the horror of a man watching his allies hacked apart to facilitate it. He had felt others in hardship, he had been in the presence of people working themselves into panic. This was his first encounter of something so densely clustered, and it wreaked havoc on his emotions. Abric had been with him for a good deal of it, but another "duel" - a spar, really - with Oberon had seen them parting ways, Abric moving on while he stayed. The Sith that he, despite himself, was beginning to call a friend in his own mind, had insisted he rest, before departing for a task he himself needed to do.
He would find no rest, as he received a holocall almost immediately after leaving Imperial property. There was a gang - no, a cult, dedicated to some "Great Healer" that was supposed to be a Sith. The clash between name and ownership was suspect, and the owner was supposedly going to visit a certain cantina in the district he was headed for.
He slipped inside, and found he had met his limits. The relief of minds fuzzy with drink or actively enjoying themselves made it impossible not to just sit down, lean back into the booth and observe, and soak up the more comfortable atmosphere. Like a warm bath for the weary soul.
Discretion was never his forte. In fact, it was exactly the opposite. He makes no secret of watching people who are obviously Sith when they enter. Maybe it'd be normal for a Jedi to do so. He's counting on that and the local laws not landing him in further trouble.]
