(SELECT DIFFICULTY)
I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE
HURT ME PLENTY!
ULTRA-VIOLENCE!
NIGHTMARE!
ULTRA-NIGHTMARE!
YOU SELECTED: ULTRA-NIGHTMARE!
Arrived in: Blessing of Loste (Dynamic Class Freighter)
Wearing: Hoodlum's Leathers (
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/138757-hoodlums-leathers/)
Armed with: Simple playing cards, nervous, winning smile.
Alderaan.
"EH?! 'Dis 'ere ain'tz wutz wee spatz and shookz 'andz onnz!" The young looking woman protested to the Toydarian, floating behind his desk as she finished counting the credits he slid across the table in the musty, cramped office, the orange light of sunset creeping through narrow windows. She slapped the credits back on the desk.
"C'mon, I gavez yooz a gud show! A gud showz fer gud pryce...mosstly...itz...it wuz ann accydenntz...
The Toydarian, still trying not to be angry, went into as calm a manner as he could in his purple clothing, going into his negotiating.
"You gave me ninety percent of a good show. I paid for ten of your best stage acts. You got through nine and half of them before whatever drugs you're hopped up on caused your robot arm to have a fit a toss the rabbit right at my son's face! You knocked him out cold! And the impact killed the rabbit in the process!"
"Dat wuz an accydenntz..." Laertia said quietly, her voice high pitched but soft at the same time somehow, looking very small and fragile despite wearing a jacket lined with studs and spikes, the scars of shrapnel still crisscrossing her face, a scar near grey eyes, one of which was artificial. She stared down at the floor, ashamed at having killed the rabbit. She'd raised it since it was young. It had trusted her. She should have grabbed Phrik The Rabbit with her real arm. But she'd forgotten for a moment, under the stress of doing her stage act for a crowd of children invited to a birthday party, not wanting to screw up. But she had. And now Phrik was dead. Not being paid enough was just the extra knife to the gut.
It had been going well. It had been going so well. She was still trying not to think about how she'd accidentally killed her favorite rabbit, placing cold priority on keeping the lights running. She shook her head as she felt the beginnings of a migraine start up.
"I gotz brayn injurieez..." Laertia said quietly. "Da..da shakez. Dhey happennz a lotz dhese dayz. Can't helpz 'em. Can't yooz at leest gyvz me an extraa twentee-credz?"
"It's enough I decided not to prosecute. As a matter of fact..." the Toydarian said pulling back the credits.
"I think that alone should be your payment..." the Toydarian spoke smugly. "Get outta here..."
He reached down next to his desk hefting up her dead bloody rabbit Phrik, back angled oddly from where the poor creature had impacted against the Toydarian boy's face. Laertia's heart went into her throat as the animal corpse was savagely flung into her chest.
"And take your
dead rabbit with you before I call the cops!" the Toydarian shouted.
Laertia's stress and damaged brain caused a lapse in judgement. The corpse of Phrik dropped as Laertia's right arm...the organic one...smashed violently through the table in one blow, splitting it in half. She gritted her teeth, and the Toydarian paled before reason came back into her eyes.
"I...I'm sorreez...I'll...I'll goz nowz..." she said quietly, picking up Phrik as she left the Toydarian stayed backed up against the wall half thinking about calling the authorities but decided against it. The death fire in the woman's eyes made him realize it was better to let an injured dog lick its wounds rather than provoke it further.
Besides...she was more angry at herself than she was at him...
Later on...
Laertia walked the streets unevenly, stumbling due to how off balance the migraine had her, carrying Phrik in her arms, tears in her eyes, but not from the migraine. Others gave her a wide birth as she cradled the tiny mass of broken bones hidden by bloody white fur. She should have grabbed him by her real arm. The cybernetic ones was too dangerous, too prone to feedback spasms from her injured brain, still partly reliving the trauma everyday since the gunship assault that had flung shrapnel into her face and tore away her original left arm and eye had changed her.
Into this. A woman fighting back tears as she carried a dead animal across the streets in the snow, fighting the mother of all headaches. Phrik had been her buddy. Her therapy animal. What had he thought, when her cyber arm violently came to life and flung him against her will into the boy's face. Did he hate her in his final moments before a moment of pain tore him away from her lap forever?
He had to have known it was an accident...right?
He had to have known she loved him in how she hugged and kissed him, and petted his soft fur when Moya wasn't around, and gave him treats and let him run around the ship. He had to have known she loved him. He
had to have known she loved him.
He had to. He had to know she loved him. That she always loved him. That it had been an accident. A horrible, gut twisting accident.
Getting cold this time of year. She wanted to bury him in the woods. Somewhere peaceful, where his spirit could run free.
And then...she'd get drunk. Heavy drunk. No...that would just hurt her brain. It had been hurt enough.
People gave the thuggish looking woman of average build a wide berth as she clutched the rabbit corpse, feeling it bleed through her fingers. Her headache distracted her, for its pain was that level of distracting: nearly overpowering torment. She felt sluggish as she always did when the headaches came, and she didn't see the elderly woman and crashed into her, causing her to drop Phrik into the light snow covering the pavement.
Laertia tumbled to the ground laying there for a moment out of grief, though she clutched her head from the pain as the elderly woman got up yelling at her to watch where she was going before angrily walking off. Laertia pulled herself up, the migraine unceasing, vision slightly blurry and red at the edges of it.
She looked for Phrik, she saw him floating downward on a bed of water close to the sidewalk. Heading to a drain.
She wasn't fast enough. She tried. She sprinted harder than she ever had in her life. She couldn't use the Force with this headache.
She wasn't fast enough. She dived, natural arm outstretched for Phrik as she hit the freezing water close to the sidewalk.
His fur brushed her fingers, but no more. It slipped into the drain on the sidewalk. She scrambled to the drain, natural arm shoving itself in, trying to feel for Phrik but knowing he had been washed away.
She stayed there for thirty seconds, her arm in the drain. She couldn't bear to give up on him until she saw she was getting strange looks from other civilians. She pulled her arm out of the drain, looking for a quick exit.
She always stuck out like a sore thumb because of the Jacket. She picked herself up, the water didn't soak into her clothes, so fortunate there.
Laertia walked the streets of Alderaan, aimlessly, in mourning for a pet she now couldn't even bury. She thought of calling Moya, but as she walked the streets under high class towers that somehow reminded her of those Hutt-owned towers on Nar Shaddaa the more she was underneath them.
Distraught, she almost didn't spot the shuttle in the open area of grass. Apparantly people were having a get together.
Washing her bloody hands off in the water running on the sidewalk, Laertia checked herself in the reflection of the speeder before approaching the attendant next to the shuttle, a cathar man in white and brown armor.
She couldn't bear to go back to her ship just yet, where all the memories of Phrik the Rabbit were.
Her eyes were at the ground as she approached, rubbing her cybernetic arm.
"Dhis shuttulz lookz deckeddz outz fer a partee or sumthinz'." Laertia said quietly. "Wutz duh occashin'?"
"War for Corellia is over. That's cause enough." The man answered. "Everyone is welcome tonight at the Jedi Temple."
The answer stilled her. Caught her off guard. She took a few steps back, phantom pains in her cyber eye threatening to flare up.
"Everyone is welcome a night of peace, Miss--?"
"Unimmporrtanntz..." Laertia answered soberly as she boarded the shuttle, eyes still staring at the ground, remembering Phrik.
Later on...
It'd been a long time since she'd been near a Jedi Temple.
Laertia normally didn't go to Alderaan. It was Uri's planet, but she'd been having trouble getting work elsewhere. After today, it'd likely be harder to get work. But having Phrik tossed at her like that had made her snap.
And now...now she was drained...emotionally and physically. She didn't even know why she had come. Not like she owed 'em anything. She still stared at her medical discharge papers every night before she slept.
Laertia felt thirsty. Though her hands were washed, she still kept feeling Phrik's blood and bones and fur between them. As soon as the shuttle touched down, Laertia wanted to be sick, not just because every second reminded her she had accidentally killed her rabbit and ruined her show, but because she knew she and the Jedi Order hadn't mixed in years.
It was a nexus, as expected. Something whispered to her spirit, trying to soothe her spirit. She rejected it. She had killed her rabbit. She had killed her rabbit and then lost his body to Alderaan's sewers.
Uri's home, like everything associated with Uri, took someone important from her. She would never come back her without a good reason, something beyond money.
It was a beautiful place. Laertia could not appreciate it, for all was wrong in her world. She remembered her first time in a temple. It had been so peaceful...she'd first picked up a lightsaber in a temple though. Maybe that was where it had all started. When she had made them afraid of her, and how frighteningly fast she had learned the basics. Ursula, of course, took this as encouragement. Laertia still held out hope she'd write to her someday.
The woman straightened out her odd moe-cut and headed to where the temple was, unable to appreciate how beautiful the settings were. She just needed to be distracted by the only thing that she had ever achieved any true prestige in, heading on in deeper, noticing other people, but more preoccupied with the temple architecture and trying to ignore the peaceful tempting of the nexus.
"So wat's ta' do innz a joinnt like dhis?" Laertia wondered under her breath as she walked in, noting faces, none of them she knew. The Marksmen had been busy bodies, never staying too long at temples except to recruit. Laertia had few connections left among standard Jedi. She hadn't talked to any since being discharged. She didn't have the same regard for a temple other Jedi did.
Phrik's broken body as it washed into the street drain made her stomach twist. She winced as the migraine started again. It always started again and she would end up making a fool of herself or worse. She should find a comm station, ping Moya to come and get her but she wasn't ready to go to her ship yet and face all the pictures of Phrik and her in her quarters.
She decided to tough it out here and venture further in, spotting all sorts inside...
[member="Alexandra Feanor"]