- Joined
- Jul 15, 2015
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Under the violet sky of Dargulli's alien atmosphere, Aixa let out a long, slow sigh, suppressing the urge to turn and vomit onto what was an otherwise lovely stretch of land. Dxun had been a dark and dangerous moon, choked by the dense jungles that seemed to strangle all manner of life from it's surface, sucking up all the sunlight before it could reach the surface proper. Her clan had taken refuge underground, though in the end that was hardly enough to save them - the Sith brought to bear all their efforts on eradicating their home, and it was only through sheer luck - or perhaps the machinations of the Force - that she had somehow survived. And while she felt some lingering feeling of guilt for comparing her home to the strange rock she found herself at present, it was nice to feel a cool breeze against her skin, and to breathe in air that wasn't so heavy with moisture as to feel like she needed gills to use it.
Granted, the fresh air did little for her space sickness - some part of her hoped, albeit naively, that it might do her some good - but being on solid ground, no longer careening through hyperspace on a journey to nowhere, would eventually settle her stomach and alleviate the aching in her head. That she was partially dehydrated and living on old, dry ration blocks did her no favors, but she wasn't exactly in any position to demand gourmet meals and bottled water. She was a fugitive and a survivor and a Mandalorian one, at that. Even if she didn't ascribe to her people's idiotic beliefs that they were owed some kind of glory that the Empire had denied them, it was safe to assume that her more violent-minded brethren had ensured that no clan, regardless of size or affiliation, would be discriminated against as reckless, meat-headed killers who wore the beskar'gam as though it protected them from everything - including taking responsibility for their actions.
Having set The Orca down a few kilometers away from her chosen resting place, Aixa was more or less on her own. She'd had the foresight to bring her electrostaff and a glass hydration cylinder, though as the sun fell over the horizon - casting an eerie, sparkling glow over the ocean that seemed to surround her on all sides, though it was many kilometers away - she regretted her decision not to bring a coat. It wasn't cold, per se, but the wind carried a distinct chill that would no doubt grow uncomfortable if she opted to stay outdoors. Shifting her weight in an effort to get comfortable, she caught a hint of movement on the edge of her vision - it was no animal, but a man. Or a woman, perhaps. It was impossible to tell.
With her eyes trained on the figure as it drew near, Aixa pulled herself to her feet, staff planted firmly in the ground as she leaned against it to stay upright. Blinking, she rubbed at her mouth as if to chase the nausea away, swallowing hard to assure herself that she was fine and not about to throw up all over the place. It was a hard sell, frankly, but she was stubborn enough to make it work, though she knew well enough that the slight sheen of sweat on her brow and her pale complexion likely did her no favors. With any luck, he was simply an emissary - or a concerned citizen - hailing from the village in the valley below. She wasn't quite ready for fight for her life, just yet.
DARGULLI, INNER RIM IDARAL EXPANSE
Under the violet sky of Dargulli's alien atmosphere, Aixa let out a long, slow sigh, suppressing the urge to turn and vomit onto what was an otherwise lovely stretch of land. Dxun had been a dark and dangerous moon, choked by the dense jungles that seemed to strangle all manner of life from it's surface, sucking up all the sunlight before it could reach the surface proper. Her clan had taken refuge underground, though in the end that was hardly enough to save them - the Sith brought to bear all their efforts on eradicating their home, and it was only through sheer luck - or perhaps the machinations of the Force - that she had somehow survived. And while she felt some lingering feeling of guilt for comparing her home to the strange rock she found herself at present, it was nice to feel a cool breeze against her skin, and to breathe in air that wasn't so heavy with moisture as to feel like she needed gills to use it.
Granted, the fresh air did little for her space sickness - some part of her hoped, albeit naively, that it might do her some good - but being on solid ground, no longer careening through hyperspace on a journey to nowhere, would eventually settle her stomach and alleviate the aching in her head. That she was partially dehydrated and living on old, dry ration blocks did her no favors, but she wasn't exactly in any position to demand gourmet meals and bottled water. She was a fugitive and a survivor and a Mandalorian one, at that. Even if she didn't ascribe to her people's idiotic beliefs that they were owed some kind of glory that the Empire had denied them, it was safe to assume that her more violent-minded brethren had ensured that no clan, regardless of size or affiliation, would be discriminated against as reckless, meat-headed killers who wore the beskar'gam as though it protected them from everything - including taking responsibility for their actions.
Having set The Orca down a few kilometers away from her chosen resting place, Aixa was more or less on her own. She'd had the foresight to bring her electrostaff and a glass hydration cylinder, though as the sun fell over the horizon - casting an eerie, sparkling glow over the ocean that seemed to surround her on all sides, though it was many kilometers away - she regretted her decision not to bring a coat. It wasn't cold, per se, but the wind carried a distinct chill that would no doubt grow uncomfortable if she opted to stay outdoors. Shifting her weight in an effort to get comfortable, she caught a hint of movement on the edge of her vision - it was no animal, but a man. Or a woman, perhaps. It was impossible to tell.
With her eyes trained on the figure as it drew near, Aixa pulled herself to her feet, staff planted firmly in the ground as she leaned against it to stay upright. Blinking, she rubbed at her mouth as if to chase the nausea away, swallowing hard to assure herself that she was fine and not about to throw up all over the place. It was a hard sell, frankly, but she was stubborn enough to make it work, though she knew well enough that the slight sheen of sweat on her brow and her pale complexion likely did her no favors. With any luck, he was simply an emissary - or a concerned citizen - hailing from the village in the valley below. She wasn't quite ready for fight for her life, just yet.