Nowhere to Run (The Major)

[Kirie]

Avalonia, Dosuun.

​

A gentle, temperate breeze blew across the wide cobbled street, and rustled her dark hair. Golden sun filtered through the canopy of grand old trees that lined Forselle Drive, giving the air a pleasant coolness despite the sun. Overhead, puffs of cloud scudded across an otherwise clear sky. It was a perfect day in Avalonia, one indicative of the city's status of Jewel of Dosuun, and of the Order itself. It was true what they said about the place, it exuded class. More interesting, was the air of quiet function that filled the industrious city. It was clean; sleek yet unassuming. Even park benches, such as the one on which she was seated, seemed more comfortable here.

So Avalonia was nice enough, but not so nice that Kirie could forget the overarching sense of dread that followed her, unshakable as her shadow in this bright sun. After all, she was a criminal. An illegal. Her presence here, without a shred of real documentation, was a serious transgression, especially in the heart of First Order space, and especially in Avalonia.

But Avalonia was where she needed to be, and recently she had adopted the somewhat dangerous attitude of doing what's needed whatever the cost. So far things had worked out... Ok, but Kirie couldn't really shake the suspicion that without her usual habit of caution and rationality, things would take a turn for the worse. Particularly while sneaking around a state infamous for an intelligence service as invasive as they were skilled, and in a city full of the best, brightest, and meanest Imperials in the Galaxy.

She had a contact here in the city, an employee from the Ministry of Culture and Heritage high enough in the food chain to have access to information on the rarest and most isolated historical sites in the Unknown Regions, but low enough to be able to get away with a little side hustle. Only problem, she had to come to him. He might've been influential in his department, but that didn't always translate when it came to customs officers and the Security Bureau.

Still, she'd made it here now, and she'd booked an apartment not far from Forselle drive without any hitches. Unbelievable as it may be, it seemed like Kirie'd succeeded in pulling the wool over the eyes of the First Order. Through the constant anxiety and looking over her shoulder, she felt a bit of pride.

In an effort to be unassuming, she'd dressed in dark pants and a fitted navy sweater. Her black hair was a sensible length, pulled back into a basic pony-tail. It exposed the ugly scarring on her ears, but there was little she could do about that. Besides, nobody would notice unless they looked for it. On her knee sat her datapad, and a to-go cup of caf was placed on the armrest beside her.

In an act that could be considered suspiciously nonchalant, Kirie panned her gaze across the street, waiting for her contact to arrive.

 

[The Major]

Dosuun, a place always sunny
Dosuun, capital of the lumbering society
Hardened, mean, and sharp from tooth to knee
Dosuun, where passion and perception were blurred when windy

Avalonia, approaching dusk, 853 ABY

Near the bench currently occupied by the former agent of a faraway land now crushed under the heels of rampant imperialism or unifying order -depending on which aspect of the coin looked upon was a gate. This gate was simple, stylized of wrought iron but humble in its approach to artistic swirls. Small and black, the design favored efficiency, and the fact the gate had any semblance of an aesthetic on a world which championed only the coldest forms of effectiveness gave an impression that somehow, this wasn’t the original door. Closer inspection of the hinges proved that this wasn’t some antique fence, but a bit of flair transported and refitted unto the location.

For what purpose one would have to inquire of sharpened minds, and inquiring into such seemingly tiny mysteries could prove more dangerous than dancing on the frontline of a warzone -but such was nature secrets doused in occult inklings.

Nevertheless, the gate creaked open, only barely revealing a side path between a row of thick trees and slate hewnstone which guided beyond to the edge of a cemetery. The small huddle of graves gave way to another opening which further blossomed upon massive grounds that were usually accessed from a visitor center far on the other side of the park and memorial. A tall figure dressed darkly slipped out form the opening and immediately closed the gate behind her exit, producing an antique key about the size of a finger -this foul thing resembled the strangeness of the attendant holding its corkscrewing twist and engraved runes.

Somehow, the master of lies that presented herself as the Major always appeared to be up to mischief, despite the grandiose manner of her clothing to the aristocratic ruffle of her embroidered sleeves. It was a tragedy in and of itself, something of a quixotic concept shrouded in a manner of misunderstanding. It mattered not if her acts were charitable or well-meaning. They somehow lagged in the mediocrity of selfish manipulation -even now. So it came to be that even when passing along for more-or-less “innocent” stroll upon the evening that the Director of the Security Bureau maintained that iconic air of malfeasance -slinking along like a thief, otherworldly on a world in which she should be the accepted norm.

Some people were just unlucky in these ways.

For instance, the foreigner waiting on the bench.

The Director walked through her path, adjusting the brim of her tricorner hat low on her brow so as to obscure the aim of her eyes in shadow, the white feather that never seemed to crumble or rip despite the amount of abuse sustained, bouncing much more happily in the stark blacks and grays of her longcoat. Seemingly at peace, the “good” Fallanassi even produced a pair of earpods and placed them carefully in her ears -using a personal datapad to play some music that almost immediately blared out in a trilling chorus of chanting voices and energetically played violins. Apparently things would have been hum-drum and normal, with the woman continuing a walk back to whatever den of secrecy befitted a person ensnared in so many ever shifting plots.

And then she walked in front of the bench. Not even close by it. Some 10 meters away along the wide walkway that departed from this park and to the rest of the city she suddenly stopped, realizing a vast interruption was occurring. Unfairly, as if a sixth sense was unjustly notifying the bespectacled scion of the disturbance before her eyes even connected with the interloper. She stopped in her tracks.

For a peaceful moment, a bit of wind typical to the clime of this city caught upon her coat, fluttering the single shoulder cape draped upon her with a certain grace. In that flash a wide, wild grin touched her face -the expression itself already betraying that cutting, vicious nature that was the core of her being. It departed for something far more subdued and smug as quickly as the original flair had come. The headphones were removed; the music was stopped, and the datapad was stored inside a coat pocket. Then the Major turned to face the bench, walked up to at a deliberately slow, stalking pace, and stood in front of [member="Kirie Ito"] while smiling politely.

“Good evening. May I sit there for a moment? These boots are new and still need breaking in.”

 

[Kirie]

It was a few moments before Kirie noticed the woman. She'd been looking down at her datapad, and hadn't seen the tall figure approaching. It was only when the streaming sunlight was blocked that she noticed a shape the periphery of her vision. When she looked up, she saw a long, bizarrely dressed specimen, decorated in a feathered tricorn and dark coat, and some sort of cape. Shock at the sudden appearance briefly flashed on her face before she brought her features under control. Likely it was brief enough to register as mere surprise.

She adjusted in her seat, watching the woman's lips as she spoke. The words appeared flowing, brimming with the confidence and the slightest hint of arrogance held by someone of importance. From her expression and delivery, the words seemed breezy, but it was made clear that whoever this person was, it was them who commanded the breeze. Or... Maybe not? The smile was polite, disarming. Cognitive dissonance jangled her brain and she found herself unable to make her usual quick character judgement.

Her nerves prickled, and she felt the hairs on her neck bristle slightly and settle back. Something was odd. Not wrong per se, but she suddenly had the feeling that something important was happening.

Again she shifted in her seat, and the Bondar saber in her tote bag, sitting next to her, pressed against her thigh uncomfortably. She levelled her gaze at the woman in front, offering a slight nod and her own polite smile. She gestured to the seat beside her. Instinctively, she stole a glance down either side of Forselle Drive, but nothing appeared different. There was nobody pointing and yelling at her, no approaching law enforcement, but no sign of her contact either.

She looked back to the woman, and signed.

I am deaf. Do you speak sign?

[member="The Major"]​