Chapter Text
This wasn’t a good fucking day.
You determined this very fact as you ran across the marketplace in search of a way out. Your legs burn from sprinting and pushing people out of the way. They yell at you, but you have bigger problems right now than to care about your reputation of the villagers in the market.
The Boosodian chasing you screamed your family name as he pointed his blaster in your general direction. Even from here you could tell it was cheap shit. But his threat with it was enough for everyone to either scramble, scream, or duck in fear. You crouched, but kept running as fast as you could. This maniac chasing you wouldn’t open fire on a market that was chock-full of locals, would he?
A stun shot flew past the left side of your head.
Oh, so he would.
You keep running. Your sturdy boots keep you from sliding on the newly-formed ice. You take cover inside a narrow alleyway to get outside of the central area. The icy wind blows at you. You pull your bantha hood tighter to you, looking behind your shoulder. No one’s in sight. You exhale, a visible puff of smoke escaping your lips.
But suddenly, from your left, your assailant is there. You don’t have enough time to react, and he slams you face-first into the unforgiving concrete. The ice under you cracks, and some blood from your forehead drips into the ground.
This guy really took your argument to heart, didn’t he?
He’s on top of you now, his breath getting in your face. You struggle under him, but quickly jam your fingers into two of his eyes. He screams in pain, covering the wounds with his hands. You crawl from under him, scramble to your feet, then keep running.
You run far enough that you come across an area where it’s snowing. It’s already pillowing the ground. You sprint to the top of a small hill and thank the maker that there’s flat terrain ahead.
A metal-plated pathway is iced over to your left, and you plop yourself down on it, then quickly let yourself slide down. You land in a developing snow pile ungracefully.
Once upright, you shake and dust off the snow from your outerwear. You rest your hands on your knees for a moment, breathing. The wind that fills your lungs is freezing, but you welcome it.
Looking around, your eyes latch onto a ship in the sky. It’s about to land a few meters beyond another tall, white hill. You know that hill, because further is a prime spot for a blizzard to start when it turns dark out. But the pilot aboard seems to be set on landing there. You wish him the best, despite his ignorance.
You’re so lost in thought by the ship until you hear a voice in the distance behind you.
“I’ll kill you, stupid girl!”
You roll your eyes in irritation.
“I’ve seen enough of you,” you mutter angrily. You begin to run forward in an unpredictable path, grabbing your own blaster out from your hip. As if luck would make ammunition appear, you looked inside your weapon. But you still had nothing, unfortunately. You chastise yourself internally for not refueling it earlier in the market.
To your left is a sharp cliff, and to your right is the unknown. Town is behind you, but with this Boosodian, that route is non-negotiable. Your only option is the soon-to-be-blizzard. That, or become a nice decoration in a Boosodian cave unit.
You keep forward.
The ship isn’t as far as you think once you’ve passed the high hill. In all of your 17 years, you’d never been out here. Whoever did was a fool. But, the pilot of this ship was about to be the fool who got you out of this mess.
You approach the ship just as the side declines down into the snow to create an entrance onboard. You quickly but quietly run inside, almost bumping into the holotable in the middle. Finding the control for the door, you shut it with a swift press. To your agitation, it ascends back into the side of the ship agonizingly slow.
You tap your foot, waiting anxiously for it to be sealed off from your attacker. Once you’re certain it’s closed, you approach the piloting room at the front of the ship. Doors activate and push open when you’re near, but they make little to no noise.
Now in the room, you’re met with the backside of the pilot.
The young man is facing the controls of the ship. He dons somewhat baggy robes that are dark brown and black in color. A long hooded robe sits in the optional co-pilot seat, darker black than what he is wearing. His brown hair is kept short. The top somewhat spikes up, and the back is left flat. A thin, almost unnoticeable braid is tucked behind his right ear. The hilt of a strange weapon is strapped to his hip. All of this is unfamiliar.
The young man stiffens as if he senses you there. You don’t know how; you haven’t made a sound, and if you did, it would have been dominated by the whir of the controls powering down.
He doesn’t dare move. You raise your gun at his back. He doesn’t need to know that it has run out of energy cells.
“Get this ship in the air, right now,” you demand, voice as calm as you can muster.
He turns to look at you, and his blue eyes immediately bore into yours.
You’d never seen eyes like that. You’d never seen anyone that looked like he did.
But you had no time to gape. He’s not moving, and you can hear the banging of the Boosodian’s fists on the side of the ship.
You pull off your hood so he can have a full view of you.
You remove the safety of your gun.
With a pleading face, you request, “Please.”