Shey'da
Needs Glasses
Shey'da
| Theme | If I Were A Weapon |
| Voice | Wraith |
| Age | Unknown (~20's) |
| Species | Unknown |
| Gender | Female |
| Height | 5'3 |
| Weight | Lean, underweight |
| Force Sensitive | Yes |
DESCRIPTION
Just a blind, morally questionable force user trying to make it in the galaxy…. Massive wip lol. Currently a slave to a black-market dealer in all things artifact related.
HISTORY
Her world was ash and soot.
It burrowed into the pores of her skin and crowned her head like a veil of snow, deceivingly soft as every inhale filled her chest with drywall. Her coughs, painful and sharp, only stirred the air in a useless circle right back into her spasming lungs. Everything was dull. Everything was heavy. The world seemed intent on dragging her down, burying her where she stood.
And she might have let it if not for Parsa.
Somewhere in the chaos, her brother’s tiny hand had slipped from her own. She was alone now, an island surrounded by flames, silence, and immeasurable guilt. The girl could only stagger on for so long before her legs buckled, knees pricked by the heated mounds of ash in her wake.
That was the final niche in the dam; some dark, frustrated, guttural yell taking hold in her chest and escaping clenched teeth. When did everything go red? Why could she only taste smoke? Her palms dug into the flesh of her sockets in an attempt to clear the haze. She could have stayed there forever, willing her eyes to open again and land back on her brother. Willing the world to stop spinning and to give her just a moment of reprieve. Instead, a hand wrapped around the meat of her arm, forcing her into a crouched stand.
“There’s nothing left here, get up.”
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