Heathens

[Commissar Brett]

Thread Title Reference
Rondan, Sardonis City, 1817 Hours (Local Time)

​

All my friends are Heathens. Take it slow. At least, that's what Noah told himself.

The Insurrection was over. The "Children of Rondan" had one. They simply had the numbers and the will to push ADI off Rondan. Now her people lived and suffered under the oppressive and sadistic regime of Zeh Kando. The maniac zabrak had all but broken the spirits of every native Rondani citizen, as well as any off-worlders. Noah had made it back to Rondan from shore leave just as it came to a head. He and those aboard the transports scattered and became separated. The reporter was still around, somewhere, seeing what the new regime was like. Noah - he was just trying to keep as low a profile as possible.

He passed a couple of armed thugs and pulled his hood further over his head, trying to cover his face as much as possible as he ducked into another alley. The city and it's people were in ruins around him, the sick and homeless practically lined the streets or wandered as they fought over scraps of food and clothing. The Rondani winter was setting in, and the arid climate meant stagnantly frigid air and no way for the heat to be held during the night. When ADI landed here, it had been the monsoon season; a time of intense storms and flooding rains. Now it was business as usual with little-to-no humidity and blasting bright sunlight. Air funneled through the alley and created a draft that bit at Noah's nose, his breath billowing past his cheeks in white clouds.

He needed a ticket off this rock. He needed to get home. The new regime was brutal, and he didn't need to die. It was too soon for him to die, and he would be damned if it was amongst murderers, psychopaths, and these endless freakshows.

Heathens. Every single one of them.

 

[Queen]

Ash fluttered through the atmosphere, smog thickening the air, burning the throats of those who dared breathe it. The sun was unseen, blocked out by the tainted sky. Color, a scarce thing, only to be displayed in rays from Cantinas. Alcohol’s scent wafted around them, a warning to strangers that the places were full of debauchery, violent drunks who knew not what they did. Run down, monochrome, poverty stricken, Leira Rys regretted showing her pretty little face there.

Cautious, alertness stemming from paranoia, Leira crept the barren surface of the planet. Clad in armor, concealed by a grey hoodie, black sweatpants, a cyan beanie, she looked fairly local. Cigarette hanging from rose lips, the thin trail of grey smoke meeting the ashen air, her mahogany eyes searched for somebody whom could help her.

Ironically, helpfulness was Leira’s initial intention. Calamity had overtaken the planet; a heart of gold, she wanted to help people out of their struggle. What was she greeted with? A stolen X-Wing, bruises to remember the heathens by. Angered, frustrated, desperate, she searched for a kind soul who would help a lost child. Efforts were abandoned, escape becoming her only intention.

Rough ground carried metal shoes, scratching announcing her presence, her gaze fell upon a tall male. Force signature pleasant, seemingly untainted by the disorder of the place, she approached. Slowly, as if not to frighten him, cold metal from her robotic hand touched Noah’s upper arm. Half smiling, the cigarette making the display all the more charming, she spoke.

“If you help me, I can help you.” Whispery, calm, her voice was pleasing to hear. "I’m a Jedi.” ​

 

[Noah Jacen]

Noah felt the cybernetic arm reach for him, felt its cold grasp around his upper arm. He flinched, unsure of the intrusion into his personal space. The girl couldn't have been older than 16, but she carried herself with an almost arrogant pride. It wasn't in her body language, but it was in her eyes.

"Why'd you come? You know you should've stayed away from here." He shrugged her hand from his shoulder as he turned around. "Wot makes you fink I can 'elp you, eh? Wot does this place have for you?" He was intensely skeptical. You don't just approach a stranger with your identity and intention up front.

 

[Queen]

“Fuck man, I wanted to help people here. This place is in shambles, I thought maybe they’d be grateful. I was wrong, shit hit the fan real quick. I’m a damn idiot. But, I know you’re not like them. I can tell the good people from the bad, and good people aren’t… whatever the heathens are. I can help you out of here and you can help me."

Unpigmented smoke escaped in clouds when she spoke. Index finger and middle finger clasping it, stray ash escaped the end of it, becoming among other particles the air was polluted with.

Noah’s hazel eyes relayed no emotion, only a blank stare at her. Muscular features looked worn, his clothes tattered, flaxen hair dirtied. Visibly fatigued, new hope arose in Leira. The planet was doing him no good, and her offer would be foolish to pass up.

"Help a girl out?"

The staccato of footsteps thudded in the distance. Sharply turning her head, fear prickling her conscious, her muscles screamed at her to run. Resistant to what her senses demanded, only to continue to speak with Noah, panic took control of her facials.

“We need to leave, now.” Desperate whispers, panic seeping into her voice.

Noah was stationary.

“Now, please.” Forceful now, reluctant to flee without him.​

 

[Noah Jacen]

Noah stepped forward, pushing her up against the wall as the thugs passed by. He kept his face close to hers, the thugs passing him a dirty look as he carried on. It was a knee-jerk reaction, the only thing he could think of. People were uncomfortable with public displays of affection, so Noah made it look like that to force their eyes to avert. Their footsteps receded and Noah pulled away.

"I'm sorry, I had to think fast." He nodded, trying his best to seem as sincere as he was. "This place is helpless, but it's better than when I first saw it I guess." He gestured his head back out towards the open street of a market or bazaar of some sort, taking a step. "Come on, let's try to stay inconspicuous."

The cold bit at him as he stepped into the mulling square. Towering overhead was the Capitol Building, the one ADI had lain siege to some months ago. His footsteps thunked with every footfall against the plywood platforms that covered the extensive trenchworks that the square had been. He still remembered the battle clearly. Men screaming as mortars fell all around them. The searing pain of white phosphorous as it splattered his back. The adrenaline rush of large-calibre slugs popping the dirt next to him.

He pulled out his vape and took a long drag of the device. The cloud he billowed was thick and white, and smelled of apples and cinnamon. An alien being barked something at him in an alien language, holding plastic bottles in his hands as he called. He was probably trying to sell Noah some more juice, but he already had enough. He turned his head lightly to the side as he looked at the girl in the corner of his eye.

"You said you wanted to get off this rock." He took another drag of his vape as he spoke, the cloud of vapour distorting and muffling his voice as it left his mouth. "What'd you have in mind?"

 

[Queen]

Spine scraping against concrete, cold walls arising goosebumps. Hot skin touched her forehead, breath tickling her face. Cheeks reddening, impulses screaming at her to retaliate, until she realized his intent. Strangers’ scowls met the affectionate spectacle. Running her fingertips along his jawline, forcing a delighted giggle. Rough skin, traces of stubble, warm breathes being shared between them. The contact they shared was virgin to Leira. Almost sickening, inner discomfort reflected in auburn spheres. Strangers shared the irascibility, feet finding other places to roam. His body was lifted from her’s, his discomfort as potent as her own.

"I'm sorry, I had to think fast."

Despite distaste towards what they did, she overlooked it. Safety was significant, any precaution to keep them alive a necessary one.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Footfalls lapping at Noah’s heels, following him as if she were his own. Capitol loomed overhead, ominous, casting its’ shadow over everything that neared it. Haunting, vacant, deceitfully peaceful, shudders shook Leira’s body.

The metallic device shone under what light the world offered. Clasped in between taupe lips, chest rising, he breathed its’ air. Exhalation released sallow billows of smoke, fragrant, pleasing to Leira. Speaking, white visibly lacing the air freed from his throat, he proposed his service.

"What'd you have in mind?"

“Stealing a ship from the heathens. On my own, I can do some good. But, look at me.”

Petite, juvenile, a crowd of heathens could overcome even her Force powers. Muscle was one thing she didn’t have, and Noah could give her.

“I cant navigate this place for shit, so I’m gonna need your help with that. What I can offer? I’m good with a saber, I can mind trick, I’m a good pilot. Ive got credits, after we escape I can get you a place to stay until you have something permanent.”​

 

[Noah Jacen]

Noah thought for a moment. The girl had heart; spunk even. He took another rip from the vape and blew clouds from his mouth and nose, letting the curling tendrils of the vapour pour from him rather than exhaling it forcefully. Sure, he was good, but was he good enough for this young girl to be his ticket off of Rondan. He stopped walking, turned to her and blew a pillar of smoke from his mouth like a spout up and out of the way, trying to not blow it straight in her face.

"I think I know where we can go, but we gotta go back to my hideout first. I need to grab some things. You gotta stash on world of your belongings, or were you smart enough to leave it all at home?"

 

[Queen]

“Yea, I didn’t plan on staying here. I left my shit back at home. All I’ve got on me is my sabers, knives, and blasters. Where’s your place?”

Luxury, a scarce entity. Vacillate about spending an evening in the transgression blemished purlieus of Corellia, lest discord arise. Derelicts meandered the dusky boulevards, hunting for feeble saps to purloin from. Cynical, unsure Noah could safeguard the Padawan from ambuscading heathens. Life, priceless, fragile, was not a thing to be squandered by insignificant brutes. Negligence could secure that fate for the duo.

“Is it safe? How long will we be staying there? I wanna get out of here.”

The stench of gasoline did not satisfy Leira; throat burning with each syllable, impatience festered. Nails drumming against durasteel, shifting. Hoary smoke appeared its’ last. Disposing of the cigarette, pewter heel rubbing its’ remains on concrete, sighing.

“Excuse my impetuosity.”

Jocular tone, a grin osculating her features.​

 

[Noah Jacen]

"It's... Safe enough." Noah answered hesitantly. "I just need to gear up and say goodbye to some people. We won't be more than an hour out of the way, I promise. It's a couple blocks this way." He shoved his thumb over his shoulder.

As he began to step, the girl discarded her cigarette and spoke. Noah silently rolled his eyes, her language to flowery for his liking. He continued across the square, passing a one of the thugs' technicals, the large wheeled truck mounting a slugthrower machine gun in the bed. He kept his eyes to the ground as they walked past the mean-looking operators on the street corner before passing onto one of the avenues. People walked across and down the street, eyes all darting, hands all resting near their concealed weapons, be they blasters, blades, or simple tools in the event they get mugged, raped, or assaulted by the soldiers.

Jacen cut back down an alleyway, then another, leading the young girl around a labyrinthine set of backstreets, before walking down a set of steps to the doorway of an underground maintenance access tunnel. He opened the creaking metal door and offered her to enter first. He let her enter if she wanted, but he would continue behind her, allowing her to experience the scene:

The leftover refugees of ADI marines and their underground hiding place, trying every way they can to stay low. Sick and injured men, nursing wicked coughs and infected bullet wounds, eating like birds and living in squalor, even worse than that on the open-air streets. Down here, the air is trapped and stagnant.

"Welcome to my home..."

 

[Queen]

Fear, potent, manifesting itself in everyone roaming Rhondan streets. Fingers wandering to armaments, yearning for security. Futile, yet falsely reassuring. Weapons would be of little use, lest someone have equal arsenal. Safety was a concept; sometimes feeling more imperative than being. Stagnancy, safety. Leira rejected the adjectives. Expressions, everything they were. Illusory, unachieveable by present happenings.

Trailing Noah, sealing her eyes. Wishing to obstruct the leaden colors, the smog filled skies, dismal faces of strangers. Prompting memories of Malastare, bleak lavender atmosphere similar. Mauve, grey, colors she came to abhor. Agonizing memoirs laced the hues, the retention sometimes physical. Throbbing skin, lashed repetitively, futile attempts to break Leira. Dusks spent muffling sobs into cotton. Resilient, too headstrong to let her father see her weep. Pain stifled only by her will. Reminiscents, hostile, yet arousing pride. Nothing could shatter her. Not torture, humiliation, hunger, discomfort. She was too obstinate.

Awoken from flashback, a door lurched open with a high-pitched shrill. Cringing at it, striding ahead. Stale air, smelling of alcohol, cigarette smoke, sweat, the stench of infection. Scarred hands snatched morsels, shoved in to hungry mouths with little regard for etiquette. Pity, aversion, Leira glanced at Noah.

“Wow.. Uh… This sucks, damn, I’m sorry you had to live in this shit pile.”

Her murmurs offensive at worst, in bad taste at best. Glares were cast at the child, recklessly, she met them. Leira's presence inevitably caused cacophony. ​