Seeking Sanctuary (Geneviève Lasedri)

[Switch]

Teeth dug sharply into swollen lips as a devilish grin fought to overcome the young woman's face. With practiced ease, nimble fingers practically blurred over the display of her datapad as the faces on the passenger manifest jumped from name to name. The entire trip had been fraught with mysterious cases of mistaken identity as the former pirate kept herself occupied. Aside from the occasion light twinge of guilt, she was fairly confident that nobody was being hurt by her games. The worst anybody got was a bit of wounded pride.

Pride... What good is pride, anyway? It certainly hadn't done Switch any favors lately. It was a sense of pride that insisted she take on that bastard back on Hapes. A shadow passed over her face, chocolate eyes closing tight at the memory.

Everything was all scattered. She couldn't remember why she'd gone to that place. That beautiful, horrible, cold world of stone. There was nothing there anymore but him. The man who had so easily pulled her apart, as if she were a child's first knot. He had known precisely where to pull, and just like that Switch was gone. all that was left... was...

The woman jolted out of her seat as the intercom announced a safe landing. She hadn't even noticed their orbital entry.

Absently leaving her travelers bag behind, Switch hastily made her way to the front of the queue. With a desperate push, she made her way past shouting strangers, not stopping until she turned the final corner into the conservative starport.

Collapsing onto a public bench, Switch pulled her illicitly appropriated trench coat tightly around herself. Her battered abdomen was hurting her again. Here would have to do for now.

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

A shambles. That is what she was: a shambles.

Every breath was a major task for Geneviève, the talons of that dark lord still seeming to tug at her; constrict her neck. She had been diced and served, her life all but snatched from her in a matter of minutes.

She was never really an aesthetically marvelous face to behold, but it seemed as if each year brought a new scar to it. The doctor had taken incredible care of her while she was in the confines of her mind. He had even performed some reconstructive work around her eye, much to her very vocalized complaints after she had regained enough cognition. She insisted it gave her 'character'.

What had passed while she had been absent was alarming, and the visions she had in her weeks-long slumber were terrifying--not so much in a brutal sense, but the sound of loneliness had overwhelmed her. She only knew herself. And even there, she had doubts. And was she truly awake? She had immediately set off for Sanctuary, for an indefinite period of time, she had said. Someone was running her company; someone heading the Alliance. She did not want to know anything else.

Gen was feeling dizzy after the flight into Sanctuary. Tucking her chin below the collar of her coat, the raven-haired heiress looked about for a place to sit down--or maybe pass out. Another woman, about her age, was positioned on the nearest bench. She was sporting a trenchcoat. Gen could get behind that. Wow. If that was going to be the basis for her decision-making, then she must really be in a bad way. But forget the whole world for now. She was going to sit there.

Guiding herself more with what little perception she had through the Force rather than through her blurry eye, she dragged herself along towards the bench and unceremoniously invited herself to rest.

[member="Switch"]