- Joined
- May 17, 2009
- Messages
- 1,077
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The fact she was about to board another ship after she had finally escaped the last ride’s unpleasantness made Evie wonder if she really wanted to gain entry into the Bounty hunter’s guild or was just self destructive. Swaggering with a groan and using the door way as leverage the angry captain of her previous transport called after her demanding ,between curses, a plausible reason why she spilled her guts on his clean vessel’s floor. The Zabrak culprit appeased his barking with an exhausted sigh, falling to her bottom. When she apologized airily, the pilot waved her away with annoyed abandon. The sleek bullet of a ship then took to the air, the very whisper of its engine’s made the girl’s stomach turn and she stared down at her legs sprawled out before her struggling to regain composure.
The tiny craft that bore her vanished and left on the massive hanger alone, young Evie gazing in awe at the fearsome “Jericho.”
Star ships always held a foreboding air to her, The promise of motion sickness may have had a little to do with the inspiring of such thoughts but this was one liner she had wonderful expectations for, so long as there was no warp speed involved .
“Ook!” she whispered to herself, springing to her feet with an unsteady hop.
Passerby’s eyes roamed up hipswells and candle white wrapped tight in black latex of such finery it appeared to be a second, decorative skin coming to a tear drop opening at her collar bone and pale neck flesh.
Wiping dust from the back pockets of her fine, ebony suite, her gold eyes scanned the surroundings like nervous radar. Evie had never set foot upon Coruscant for more then a day or two but her twin had made many visits to the planet and was sure to be recognized; If she wished to remain under her sister’s Identity, she would have to be on her toes- wary of old friends.
Or worse,
Enemies.
She had gotten used to forging fake memories to appease those who knew Eeicia but did not enjoy the hobby in the least.
It would be great to finally lead a life where the only thing borrowed was her name (and clean record) after striving to impersonate another for months.
Then a thought struck her:
“The guild will surely do a back-round check…these people hunt criminals for a living…“
Assuring herself she would not be revealed, The Zabrak rehearsed her alibi’s internally like a coveted lead role in a play.
“Thank god ‘I‘m‘ already locked up.” She snickered silently.
Running her fingers across her spiked scalp she counted on her fingers the weaponry in her arsenal.
It was an unimpressive collection of pea shooters, A small sting beam at her hip, L-23 at her thigh and a concealed hold out blaster opposite.
Her cheeks heated with shame and she vowed to buy more worthy weapons as soon as possible. For now they were all she had.
With restrained childish excitement Evie made her way, beaming with delight, to the door way of the Bounty Hunter’s guild and leaned against its smooth side.
She waited with great anticipation to see the trainer who would give her the skills needed to finally be “one of the good guys.”
Her mother had always assured her as a child (as quite frequently she needed reminding more to herself then her daughter) that: “Bad girls made the best good women.”
Now was Evie’s chance to prove her right.
.
The tiny craft that bore her vanished and left on the massive hanger alone, young Evie gazing in awe at the fearsome “Jericho.”
Star ships always held a foreboding air to her, The promise of motion sickness may have had a little to do with the inspiring of such thoughts but this was one liner she had wonderful expectations for, so long as there was no warp speed involved .
“Ook!” she whispered to herself, springing to her feet with an unsteady hop.
Passerby’s eyes roamed up hipswells and candle white wrapped tight in black latex of such finery it appeared to be a second, decorative skin coming to a tear drop opening at her collar bone and pale neck flesh.
Wiping dust from the back pockets of her fine, ebony suite, her gold eyes scanned the surroundings like nervous radar. Evie had never set foot upon Coruscant for more then a day or two but her twin had made many visits to the planet and was sure to be recognized; If she wished to remain under her sister’s Identity, she would have to be on her toes- wary of old friends.
Or worse,
Enemies.
She had gotten used to forging fake memories to appease those who knew Eeicia but did not enjoy the hobby in the least.
It would be great to finally lead a life where the only thing borrowed was her name (and clean record) after striving to impersonate another for months.
Then a thought struck her:
“The guild will surely do a back-round check…these people hunt criminals for a living…“
Assuring herself she would not be revealed, The Zabrak rehearsed her alibi’s internally like a coveted lead role in a play.
“Thank god ‘I‘m‘ already locked up.” She snickered silently.
Running her fingers across her spiked scalp she counted on her fingers the weaponry in her arsenal.
It was an unimpressive collection of pea shooters, A small sting beam at her hip, L-23 at her thigh and a concealed hold out blaster opposite.
Her cheeks heated with shame and she vowed to buy more worthy weapons as soon as possible. For now they were all she had.
With restrained childish excitement Evie made her way, beaming with delight, to the door way of the Bounty Hunter’s guild and leaned against its smooth side.
She waited with great anticipation to see the trainer who would give her the skills needed to finally be “one of the good guys.”
Her mother had always assured her as a child (as quite frequently she needed reminding more to herself then her daughter) that: “Bad girls made the best good women.”
Now was Evie’s chance to prove her right.
.
