❝ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. ❞
In which a young senator fleeing for her life finds herself out of time, options, and luck.
A certain no-good scoundrel turns ou...
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❪ 0 BBY · Jedha City · Jedha ❫
· · ───── ·𖥸· ───── · ·
ELARRA'S HEART GAVE a heady jerk with each beat. Every step she took across Jedha City's markets brought her closer to salvation, towards security. Towards freedom. Above her, the sky, a pale sapphire with new birth and still washed over with the last traces of gold in the east, blanketed the city below with muted protection. Elarra knew she was not safe here. She had a strange feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that told her she wouldn't be safe for a long time.
She pulled the sand-coloured cowl draped across her shoulders tighter against her body, fingers curling in the course weave roughly. Broken fingernails scratched against the garment, and Elarra swallowed down the small pinpricks of pain her motions caused; she took another few steps forwards. Ahead of her, the rocky cliff that housed the Jedi Temple lay shrouded in copper and shadow. Something about the structure made her throat tighten with trepidation, but she swallowed it down like it was nothing more than a pill and continued onwards.
Eyes cast towards the ground, whorls of titian sand fluttering about, she slipped through the never ending crowds. She didn't look back once as she continued her journey; didn't snatch a look over her shoulder to spy the mother and son who'd helped her; didn't trace over the domed roof of the motel that still held her meagre belongings. Looking back into the past wasn't going to save her—finding those smugglers would.
Or, a tiny voice whispered poisonously, they'll kill you before you can even open your mouth.
All she had now was money. And not much of it.
Suddenly a small Zabrak girl slammed head-first into Elarra's chest, and the former senator gave a yelp of shock at the impact. Briefly, the wind was knocked from her, and she scrabbled for breath, hazel eyes blown wide and innocent. In front of her, the child gazed up at her with huge blue eyes. "I'm s-sorry, Miss," she breathed, scuttling away before Elarra could voice a reply. As she disappeared back into the mass of bodies Elarra's hands refastened her cloak, heart thumping with the resounding abrupt nature of the incident.
Something was wrong.
Her brows furrowed, her lips pursed. One hand went to her pocket, where she kept some of her credits, and her fingers groped at an empty space.
Oh, gods, no.
She'd been pickpocketed. Somewhere in the crowds, nearly half of her money had been snatched—right under her nose. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Elarra cursed under her breath, colourful expletives that burst into rainbow above her head. And then it clicked: the little girl. It was deliberate, she realised. The child had slammed into her for easy access to the credits, and had promptly taken off with them. And yet, despite the anger, Elarra's heart softened at the thought. That child had been dressed in rags. Dirty, ripped rags. The young woman knew that those credits, no matter what she was planning to use them for, would be in better hands with someone who truly needed them. Plus, I've got more. I think.
