Slums
Jutrand
Jutrand
Far below the surface of Jutland's commercial, industrial and aristocratic zones, lay the downtrodden and destitute. Why Cerys had accepted passage to the heart of Sith space was beyond her. Despite being temporarily stuck on this world, she had determined to do what she could to better the lives of those around her. This proved to be more difficult than she had expected.
"I cannot accept your food...stranger."
"What, why? It is a gift. No strings attached," Cerys said, offer sincere and her eyes pleading.
"Just leave me alone...and do not come back." The elderly woman shoved Cerys out of way of the door, which then slammed down closed just inches before the Jedi. If she had not moved her outstretched hands away, the door would have done some serious damage.
Cerys walked away from the door, dejected. She was the fourth person in a row that had rejected her charity. Why were people so untrusting?
"Hey...you the one trying to give away food?" Came a low, gravely voice. Cerys spun about to see two tall men flanking a shorter, grimy looking Weequay.
The Weequay's eyes glared at the loaves in Cerys' hands. He stalked over to her, slapping the bread out of her hand. It tumbled into a puddle. Cerys' eyes flared as she looked from now wet and dirty bread to the man that had accosted her.
"What do you think you are doing? Those were mine!" She snapped back at him.
The man did not flinch but instead shoved his finger into her chest. "Davir controls the food on this level...and he wanted to give you a chance to stop...or get out."
She glanced at the two taller men that still stood back, and then back at the shorter man, the Weequay.
"They ain't Davir...I ain't Davir..."
"I was trying to help people," she said, incredulous.
"Davir already has the market cornered on helping people," the shorter man said, broken teeth showing in an unpleasant smile.
"Somehow I doubt...he is the charitable type," Cerys said, nostrils flaring in annoyance, "probably just some slimey...no good...low level...wannabe crime lord...that throws his weight around because he happened to bribe the right guards...or got some dirt on the local customs officer..."
The shorter man laughed, looking back at his compatriots who casually chuckled in a way that was far too sinister. "Look...little one...if you want to see another sunrise...leave this level...and never come back." He pointed his finger in her face, and turned, stalking away. The taller men cracked their knuckles, eyes baring down on the much smaller Cerys. Cerys in turn, stood with determined defiance.
When she was confident they were gone, she stooped to inspect the bread. It had already absorbed a lot of the grimy water. She stood, holding a loaf between thumb and forefinger, her nose wrinkling up.
"I gotta get off this crumby world."
Srina Talon
