- Joined
- Nov 23, 2019
- Messages
- 51
- Reaction score
- 34
ERIADO
Once she lost both the appendages, she lost the 'beat' with the Force for good, and thus, her ability to dance like she once did. A pang, and a sigh, and Tsara Tarr stepped the rest of the way inside, acknowledging the painful truth that she would only be light her feet in a Kolto Tank.
Silently, she cursed the mechanical arm and leg that had replaced the severed flesh from a decade and a half ago.
All things severed often couldn't be re-attached...accept memory.
The bar brought back a 19 year old, vivacious vamp two-stepping her way around the Galaxy with Sith Acolytes and a Mandalorian Sniper. They'd carried on together for quite some time, and while those times were hard, violent, and full of uncertainty, they were blessed with comradery, trust, and good faith.
Not to mention excitement!
She was whole then. And truly alive.
The sweep of Mandalorian dominance had change the Galaxy in some ways for the better, but also for the worse. The Jedi and Sith had been once again driven into shadowy margins, and Force adepts, or merely sensitives, were also disintegrated in the indiscriminate slaughters. But, there was a republic, and democracy, so who cared if billions of innocent lives paid along with a million Force Users?
Tsara's loss had, perhaps, been a boon in the long run. She never became Sith, or Jedi, and unlike her mother, who had persued the Jedi knowledge, Tsara had abandoned the road to both the Light and Dark Sides.
And, so, she remained. The Galaxy remained, and every race birthed within it.
"Nothing to call our own but the grave..." Tsara breathed as she sat down at one of the tables looking out the new window. Dressed in a dark brown trench coat and a black, form fitting jumper, Tsara didn't look too bad for four decades, noting several young Zabraks eyeing her not a little too lecherously.
A serving droid rolled up, and asked for her order right when a tug, a familiar interior tug, caused Tsara to look over her shoulder back at the entrance as someone dear entered.
"Fuzzy Taun-Taun." she ordered. A smile cracked on her face, proverbial Lekku to Lekku. The sad expression of her remaining right eye brightened with warmth. Subconsciously, her gloved robotic hand went to the brass metallic patch over the lost eye.
Memories. Good and bad. But mostly good.
It had been way too long...far too long...
@Red Pyramid @Ripper @Nihilist Horizon
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