Bad Kitty
THE PLANET
S A N C T U A R Y
THE OUTER RIM
An ocean world boasting a temperate climate, there were few havens in this galaxy that could compete for the title of paradise.
Founded by political and religious hippies, seeking escape from the Imperial draft, it had been a world long proud of its name. It's foreign policy was give me your tired, your hungry, your poor. First Mon Calamari, then humans, then any number of species had come seeking Sanctuary, and so immigrated into a melting pot of societies stacked like strata across the planet.
Islands dotted the surface. Terrestrial havens of white sand beaches, welcoming land and sea. And beneath those tranquil waters were shallow metropolises built upon continental shelves. Or deep sea colonies, far, far below on the sea bed.
It was a different kind of vibe that you would get from Sriluur or Voss-Ka.
Whenever the young Nautolan came to a new place, he would wander for a bit. Maybe play his seven-string hallikset for a bit. But, and this above all, he would just listen. Listen to everything moving around him. The people. The cities. The Force.
He'd played at a pub in a Quarren colony several hundred meters beneath the ocean, stayed the night, and then just allowed the tide to ferry him to his next destination. He'd washed ashore here, where ever here was, and had spent the morning wandering around one of the terrestrial islands. Watching transport lift off from the spaceport, and just watching the intersection of moving parts that was a city of people.
Slinging the guitar case from off his back, the Nautolan set it down behind him.
Flipping out a HoloBoy Advanced, the Nautolan brought up his music collection and slid the volume across to maximum. Head down, the boy's head bobbed in time with the motion of his foot, tapping a beat out on the street corner on which the Nautolan stood.
As the beat dropped, the aquatic teen snapped into motion.
His head-tails flared out from his head, whipping through the air as the cord-like lekku seemed to dance with an energy of their own. His hands and arms snapped out and in, popping and locking in sharp, well-executed sequences timed with the motion of his body. His feet, knees, and legs bent and moved to support the full range of body motion, as the boy slid his feet and swayed with the rhythm.
All the while, Zak found he wasn't dancing to the music.
He was finding the rhythm of the Force.
The powerful spectacle of energy that was the teen in motion had started to draw a crowd, a circle forming as gawkers and on-lookers gave the youth room in which to maneuver as he danced without fear of the attention he brought on himself.
He had done this before.
He would do it again.
And he didn't do it for them.
But there were few locations in this galaxy that would be better for a spontaneous display of urban dance than an island in the middle of a world such as this.
S A N C T U A R Y
THE OUTER RIM
An ocean world boasting a temperate climate, there were few havens in this galaxy that could compete for the title of paradise.
Founded by political and religious hippies, seeking escape from the Imperial draft, it had been a world long proud of its name. It's foreign policy was give me your tired, your hungry, your poor. First Mon Calamari, then humans, then any number of species had come seeking Sanctuary, and so immigrated into a melting pot of societies stacked like strata across the planet.
Islands dotted the surface. Terrestrial havens of white sand beaches, welcoming land and sea. And beneath those tranquil waters were shallow metropolises built upon continental shelves. Or deep sea colonies, far, far below on the sea bed.
It was a different kind of vibe that you would get from Sriluur or Voss-Ka.
Whenever the young Nautolan came to a new place, he would wander for a bit. Maybe play his seven-string hallikset for a bit. But, and this above all, he would just listen. Listen to everything moving around him. The people. The cities. The Force.
He'd played at a pub in a Quarren colony several hundred meters beneath the ocean, stayed the night, and then just allowed the tide to ferry him to his next destination. He'd washed ashore here, where ever here was, and had spent the morning wandering around one of the terrestrial islands. Watching transport lift off from the spaceport, and just watching the intersection of moving parts that was a city of people.
Slinging the guitar case from off his back, the Nautolan set it down behind him.
Flipping out a HoloBoy Advanced, the Nautolan brought up his music collection and slid the volume across to maximum. Head down, the boy's head bobbed in time with the motion of his foot, tapping a beat out on the street corner on which the Nautolan stood.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHjF8Nw-mco
As the beat dropped, the aquatic teen snapped into motion.
His head-tails flared out from his head, whipping through the air as the cord-like lekku seemed to dance with an energy of their own. His hands and arms snapped out and in, popping and locking in sharp, well-executed sequences timed with the motion of his body. His feet, knees, and legs bent and moved to support the full range of body motion, as the boy slid his feet and swayed with the rhythm.
All the while, Zak found he wasn't dancing to the music.
He was finding the rhythm of the Force.
The powerful spectacle of energy that was the teen in motion had started to draw a crowd, a circle forming as gawkers and on-lookers gave the youth room in which to maneuver as he danced without fear of the attention he brought on himself.
He had done this before.
He would do it again.
And he didn't do it for them.
But there were few locations in this galaxy that would be better for a spontaneous display of urban dance than an island in the middle of a world such as this.
[member="Killnan Omani"]
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