[ First things first. She takes inventory (lightsaber, multi-tool) then methodically sorts through a few layers of trash before settling on a pile promising a tangle of comforting wires and parts. She needs a point of reference. Something she can salvage, even the sight of some familiar tech. Anything to help her place where she is, and how she'd arrived here without her friends. Without Jacen.
It’s a feeling she has to remind herself to turn away from every few minutes, setting her jaw against it. She's a Jedi. She’s a fighter. Wherever he is, whatever the reason that she can't feel him anymore in the Force (where he always, always should be), he's counting on her to hunt it down. To find him, whatever it takes.
And back to work. To anyone passing she's easy to miss at first glance; a skinny teenager wedged halfway into a half-crumpled storage container, legs dangling in an awkward position as she works intently on dislodging something inside. Just give her a minute, she'll have it. ]
II
[ Jaina surprises herself by being more than ready for the attack when it comes, violet blade alive in her hand. She's ready for something to fight, eager to take the first few practiced, confident strikes at the encroaching bots. For all that they fall to pieces at her feet with a satisfying whisper of severed metal, the next few are harder, and her slashes go a little wild as the bots start to converge in a swarm. Then a larger, thicker swarm. It's not long before they overwhelm her like the rookie she is, and she yelps with dismay as they lift her off her feet.
At the end of the line she crumples into an undignified heap, face flushed with anger and something like embarrassment. She sure hopes you didn't see that, whoever you are. ]
Great. [ She says it under her breath, then scrambles back to her feet again as if nothing happened, wiping greasy hands down the front of her jumpsuit. She'll look to you, fellow survivor, next. ]
Jaina Solo | Star Wars (Legends) | OTA!!
[ First things first. She takes inventory (lightsaber, multi-tool) then methodically sorts through a few layers of trash before settling on a pile promising a tangle of comforting wires and parts. She needs a point of reference. Something she can salvage, even the sight of some familiar tech. Anything to help her place where she is, and how she'd arrived here without her friends. Without Jacen.
It’s a feeling she has to remind herself to turn away from every few minutes, setting her jaw against it. She's a Jedi. She’s a fighter. Wherever he is, whatever the reason that she can't feel him anymore in the Force (where he always, always should be), he's counting on her to hunt it down. To find him, whatever it takes.
And back to work. To anyone passing she's easy to miss at first glance; a skinny teenager wedged halfway into a half-crumpled storage container, legs dangling in an awkward position as she works intently on dislodging something inside. Just give her a minute, she'll have it. ]
II
[ Jaina surprises herself by being more than ready for the attack when it comes, violet blade alive in her hand. She's ready for something to fight, eager to take the first few practiced, confident strikes at the encroaching bots. For all that they fall to pieces at her feet with a satisfying whisper of severed metal, the next few are harder, and her slashes go a little wild as the bots start to converge in a swarm. Then a larger, thicker swarm. It's not long before they overwhelm her like the rookie she is, and she yelps with dismay as they lift her off her feet.
At the end of the line she crumples into an undignified heap, face flushed with anger and something like embarrassment. She sure hopes you didn't see that, whoever you are. ]
Great. [ She says it under her breath, then scrambles back to her feet again as if nothing happened, wiping greasy hands down the front of her jumpsuit. She'll look to you, fellow survivor, next. ]
So where do we start?