Sitting at a small caf shoppe on the balcony of a skyscraper, Nyri Istria enjoyed sipping away at the last of her credits in peace. The caf was shitty and the shoppe, built as a balcony on an old skyscraper owned by the Hutts, was almost completely inaccessible unless you knew exactly how to get to it. The owner had vastly underestimated the amount of patrons that wanted to stop their speeders in the high speed airspace of Nar Shaddaa to have a sit down at a shitty cafe with no parking.
But, it was peaceful nonetheless. To the gutter rats who traversed the bowels of these skyscrapers like human shaped parasites, little places like this were sacred. The sounds of speeders zooming past above were naught but gentle hums at this altitude. Finishing her caf, Nyri stood up and push her hair back behind her shoulders. Picking up and putting back on her leather jacket, she thanked the disinterested youth running the front of the shoppe and headed outside.
Today was the last night she planned to spend on this wretched world. This world, which chewed up and devoured her adoptive parents like so many other refugees, had come to be known as 'home' to Nyri. But if home was truly where the heart laid then Nyri knew she could never consider this world her home. She couldn't understand why, but if she sat too long in the quiet, listened too closely to the stillness of the world, then she could almost hear its cry. Mournful, pained, and wracked with eternal suffering, the very planet within her feet cried out to her.
It was almost too much to bear. So Nyri attempted to shut out the world, keeping her times of peace to a minimum and her focus on her job. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she withdrew her little friend 'Tat' and set him gently on her shoulder. Handing him part of an old, stale biscotti she nicked on her way out, she chewed on the other half and made her way to one of the hundreds of 'lobbies' in this interconnected skyscraper. While many beings knew the outer workings of the buildings of Nar Shaddaa with its many streets and twists, Nyri knew the innermost parts.
She knew exactly where the fortunate enough to own starships liked to hang out, to drink and watch the sports games. The lobby of building 429, 76th floor, was a popular getaway among the smugglers. If she landed herself some contraband cargo when she stole the keys to a new ship, that would be even better in her eyes. Ships had keys, right? Of course they do, just like speeders, most speeders, some speeders. Shrugging her shoulders, Nyri concluded she would worry about the details once she got to that point.
@GABA