Good Men Don't Need Rules
Unknown World
The Spaceport was clear. Not much was happening. Another day, another credit. Many of the workers here went about their business. Selling, buying, trading, even some deals that tended to go south, was solved in a civil matter for the most part. A vendor was yelling at a man for thinking he was stupid for how low the bargaining price given to them. Yet, it was normal. A standard day, with the closest star in the sky, shining brightly to provide the perfect weather. No rain, light cloud formations, and a soft breeze to wick away the sweat from any laborious task. Handing over a couple credits, netted me some lunch. A wrap of the local meat products, with some greens, and a rather spicy condiment I had no intention of attempting to figure the name of. Yet it was good. Flavorful without being overly bland, or spicy. A couple bites here or there as a sauntered pace through the open markets of the city.
Like many places, plant life was introduced to the surrounding brick and mortar that were the walkways, buildings, and shops. Floral decorum to liven the surrounding atmosphere of the shops. I found a shady tree-like plant to sit under. The stone surrounding it was cool, and well maintained. Enjoying what I could of my light meal. An older man walked past me. Draped down, and seemed to have been walked over for years. Difficulties walking, yet no aid. Missing a hand at the wrist, and the other only having three fingers. Index and thumb were missing. Taken in some trauma by the scars and wounds upon his arms. Within the misshapen hand, gripped with all his might, was a single cup. Credits jingled within it.
The hobbling of a single step before shaking it as a cry for help, for aid of any kind. For a moment, a fiber of me yearned to go and help with every ounce I could. Yet, at the same time, I could not. I had to lay low. Being a Jedi brought many great things to my life. Yet at the same breath, it brought many negative things. Not everyone saw the Jedi and Sith as heroes, saviors, villains, and tyrants. It was a war between two religions for eons, with normal people who were just trying to survive on whatever they could. I had been burned in the past. A Jedi was labeled, and treated from that label. Be it in a good light, or with poor reception.
A sigh escaped my lips. Drawing up the cowl of my poncho, folded arms drawn within the covering, making it seem as though I had no arms. Hidden deeply within the poncho. A defense mechanism. "Hands in your pockets" as it were. No touching, no reaching, no desire to interact with others. Instead, I made my way past the shops, hoping to find what I had initially came here for.
I came on the idea that there would be a Grey Jedi here. Stories of Jedi being here were surfacing, but at a very slow pace. Why? I sought out any Grey Jedi. Someone not tied to the rather zealous New Jedi Order, or the Ashlan Crusaders. Someone who maybe, would be like me.
A Jedi in every thought, but name.
The Spaceport was clear. Not much was happening. Another day, another credit. Many of the workers here went about their business. Selling, buying, trading, even some deals that tended to go south, was solved in a civil matter for the most part. A vendor was yelling at a man for thinking he was stupid for how low the bargaining price given to them. Yet, it was normal. A standard day, with the closest star in the sky, shining brightly to provide the perfect weather. No rain, light cloud formations, and a soft breeze to wick away the sweat from any laborious task. Handing over a couple credits, netted me some lunch. A wrap of the local meat products, with some greens, and a rather spicy condiment I had no intention of attempting to figure the name of. Yet it was good. Flavorful without being overly bland, or spicy. A couple bites here or there as a sauntered pace through the open markets of the city.
Like many places, plant life was introduced to the surrounding brick and mortar that were the walkways, buildings, and shops. Floral decorum to liven the surrounding atmosphere of the shops. I found a shady tree-like plant to sit under. The stone surrounding it was cool, and well maintained. Enjoying what I could of my light meal. An older man walked past me. Draped down, and seemed to have been walked over for years. Difficulties walking, yet no aid. Missing a hand at the wrist, and the other only having three fingers. Index and thumb were missing. Taken in some trauma by the scars and wounds upon his arms. Within the misshapen hand, gripped with all his might, was a single cup. Credits jingled within it.
The hobbling of a single step before shaking it as a cry for help, for aid of any kind. For a moment, a fiber of me yearned to go and help with every ounce I could. Yet, at the same time, I could not. I had to lay low. Being a Jedi brought many great things to my life. Yet at the same breath, it brought many negative things. Not everyone saw the Jedi and Sith as heroes, saviors, villains, and tyrants. It was a war between two religions for eons, with normal people who were just trying to survive on whatever they could. I had been burned in the past. A Jedi was labeled, and treated from that label. Be it in a good light, or with poor reception.
A sigh escaped my lips. Drawing up the cowl of my poncho, folded arms drawn within the covering, making it seem as though I had no arms. Hidden deeply within the poncho. A defense mechanism. "Hands in your pockets" as it were. No touching, no reaching, no desire to interact with others. Instead, I made my way past the shops, hoping to find what I had initially came here for.
I came on the idea that there would be a Grey Jedi here. Stories of Jedi being here were surfacing, but at a very slow pace. Why? I sought out any Grey Jedi. Someone not tied to the rather zealous New Jedi Order, or the Ashlan Crusaders. Someone who maybe, would be like me.
A Jedi in every thought, but name.
