- Joined
- May 13, 2018
- Messages
- 23
- Reaction score
- 34
Recurring Theme
At Herrith’s question, Jetha frowned. Besides Basic, the only language that she shared with the Rylothians involved just the two words “freedom” and “liberty”. Though, not all of them craved them like she did. Content to wear a collar. Poor schmucks. Like slavery, however, Twi’leki was not Jetha's concern; not if Herrith’s claim was about to be proven correct. As Herrith trailed off in her sentence, Jetha cocked a brow.
“...So lead the way, hon.”
Herrith did something with her own eye that reminded Jetha that the two of them had a Bothan in the backseat. If things went south, as all too many things often went, then their furry friend might just wish that he hadn’t insisted on tagging along with his merchandise. It wasn’t like the pair of Zeltrons would do anything crazy with the speeder, anyway. They weren’t exactly crazy. Are we?
As the speeder gave way to its occupants, their hosts who came in greeting had since been received. Probably the worst move would have been to leap out of the vehicle guns blazing like a pack of Deucalians, so the lot of them had decided to calmly greet the guns pointing their way. With that, Jetha opened her door and rose beneath the sky, hoping that it might keep watching. She faced the welcoming party, standing beside the speeder with the opened door flanking her left side. Behind it, her unseen right hand held the handle of the pistol at her hip.
Sticks. Jetha blinked, scanning each villager. Guns and sharp sticks. Now she had seen it all. These Twi’leks weren’t just villagers. They’re Jedi. Jetha smothered a laugh up her nose and suppressed a smirk. As her eyes roved about the faces, it took only a corner of one to catch in the crowd the lone countenance that was all too alien. It didn’t take a Zeltron to know that Twi’leks were beautiful creatures and that, in comparison, Humans were hairy apes. Though this one was one hand away from two, he had a holopic whose face hadn’t done the real thing justice. Hello, hello, ten thousand credits.
The man’s gaze shifted just then from the recipients of his muzzle to who was revealed to be the leader of the gunslinging stickfighters. Who could probably beat us all to death in ten seconds if we let them get close. As home diplomacy was diverted to the only Human in the village, Herrith lost out on her opening to exchange Ryl. Basic was a language that Jetha had learned while watching TV as a child. Her lips spread and her pink skin felt warm as pheromones began secreting.
“A Jallerian Chaser sounds swell, one for each of us.” She relaxed her smile and her neck, pausing just long enough to watch the expression of the man whom she had come to rescue. “We’re looking for a man named James Logan. Apparently he got on the wrong shuttle and found himself on Ryloth, of all blazing places...” Jetha took the awkward situation, and began speaking. Thank the stars for red skin. “Uh...no offense to any of you, of course…” She blinked at the bleak barrenness surrounding the village and all. “...Charming…” The cracked wasteland. “...Quaint…” And the dry dirt. “...Cozy planet you lot have here...” She cleared her throat, focusing on her package and prize. “You wouldn’t have happened to have seen our long lost Mr. James...would you?”
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