Open Que Ciri Ciri

[Cirilla Shan]

Tafanda Bay, Ithor​

When Yavin fell a number of Jedi had scattered, some had evacuated in an orderly fashion, but Ciri had been among the unfortunate few who got stuck on her own. As she ran from Yavin, she had picked up the essentials, clothes, some rations, all the credits she had to her name, and her training blade. But somehow she had lost her datapad, and with that she had lost her means to contact the Jedi. She knew the protocol, report to Brighthome, but the problem was Brighthome was a spacestaion, it moved around, and without her datapad and the encryption keys stored on it she had no idea how to find to find Brighthome.

She had made her way to Ithor, knowing that the place was a Jedi haven of sorts. She could try and find another Jedi here, more so than most other places, and if not then at least he thought that she would be more safe here. But she had no idea how long it would take her to get back in touch with the Order, so in the meanwhile she had to find a way to earn credits. So she had made her way towards one of unemployment booths where the local authorities put up job listings.

Standing in line, looking very out of place among the mostly Ithorian demographic of the queue, she ignored the curious glances she would get every now and then and waited. She knew she stood out like a sore thumb, a tiny, gloomy, emo-looking thumb, but what else could she do? A girl had to eat, and food cost credits. If she attracted trouble, well she would just have to cross that bridge when she came to it.

Whatever will be, will be.

OOC: Open to one or two characters, preferably Jedi, but any faction works.

 

[Andros Sahin]

Andros was still in shock over the fall of Yavin. While others fought against the invading Sith, the half-Orcolan had helped to evacuate as many Younglings and Padawan’s as possible from the Temple Grounds - providing cover and defense to the most vulnerable members of their order. It was a devastating loss, and he couldn’t deny the feelings of genuine sorrow that seeded deep into his stomach.

While his brothers and sisters died in defense of their home, Andros had stayed until the final moments - ensuring as many of his peers were evacuated, before taking the final shuttle for himself off of Yavin. Unfortunately for the half-Orcolan, it meant making his escape on a heavily damaged ship - one with a hyperdrive that had been damaged during the bombardment of cannonfire.

Rather than making the full journey to Brighthome, Andros was forced to make a landing on Ithor - landing with a rather rough skid in the main spaceport. His ship was damaged and beyond the capacity to flight, and without a credit to his name, he had little method of actually getting off the planet anytime soon.

With little other option, Andros began to make his way towards the employment board - completely unaware that Cirilla, another Jedi, was standing ahead of him two places in the line. The half-Orcolan had decided to leave his Jedi attire back in his fucked-up ship - sporting a fleece jacket, black t-shirt and pair of ripped jeans. He carried a blaster on his right hip, while his saberhilt was safely tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket.

Ahead in the line, a rather cranky-looking Toydarian was in the process of handing off employment papers to the person ahead of Ciri in line. He grumbled, slamming a red stamp down onto the paper before shoving it into the Ithorian’s hands.

“NEXT!”

 

[Cirilla Shan]

Ciri stepped up to the Toydarian, and immediately scrunched up her nose at his smell as she held out her paperwork towards him. The Toydarian left her hanging, and instead of taking the forms from her he just frowned at her. "Something not to your liking? Broke-ass bitch with an attitude, just what I need to round out me day." Letting out a huff of air, he turned his attention to the monitor before him and reached forward to take her forms. Only, she refused to let go, and he looked back at her with an even deeper frown on his face.

"You smell, it was an involuntary response. I apologize." She knew that she didn't need to, but she had spent enough time in detention to know that sometimes it was better to just saw what people wanted to hear, even if you did not want to hear it. Besides, it was not the Toydarian's fault, whoever had thought it okay to place an inherently stinky flying slug to this job was the true culprit.

And it seemed to work, the Toydarian shrug-huffed once more and tried to take the papers form her. But yet again, she held on. "Your insult, that was intentional." She left it at that, staring at him, only for him to break into laughter.

"What, you want an apology? Dream on bitch. Maybe once you've slept in a ditch for a night or two you'll grow to appreciate how I smell."

The figure behind her, a rough looking Ithorian, heard all this and grumbled something about hurrying up. So she turned to him with that same blank stare. "We are having a conversation, you can wait."

The Ithorian gave the Toydarian a look, and both let out a laugh. The Ithorian reached forward with a big, scarred hand, and grabbed her by the shoulder. With one swift motion he pushed her aside, stepping up to the counter in her place as she landed on the floor on her ass, drawing the eyes of nearly everyone in the vicinity of the line.

@Altaris

 

[Andros Sahin]

Positioned just a few paces down the line, Andros has a front-row seat to the draam that unfolded before him. Towering over most in height, the half-Orcolan easily glanced between Ciri and the Toydarian, eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly at the particularly rude exchange. All the same, he didn’t intervene quite yet - allowing things to play out between the Padawan and employment officer.

It wasn’t until the Ithorian stepped in, shoving Ciri out of the way, that Andros moved.

Without a single word, Andros grabbed the Ithorian by the shoulder - just as he’d done to Ciri - and yanked him backwards and to the left, out of the line and stumbling if he managed to stay on his feet. The half-Orcolan was heavily built and stronger than most, and had no issues with moving the man.

“You heard the lady,” He said, bronze eyes narrowed down at the Ithorian, and then briefly towards the Toydarian as well. “You can wait. Don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Unless the Ithorian attempted to escalate, Andros made no other moves to touch the man - instead turning to glance down at Ciri. He extended a hand for the Padawan, jutting his chin in greetings.