Post by Bobbi on Sept 17, 2018 16:32:40 GMT -5
With the Hapan sun setting low, the sky carried the deep purples and pinks of a day finding its rest. Like many cities across the galaxy the setting of the sun did not signify the true end of the day. That would come much later in the evening. Many places of business within the capital city were closing, their storefronts shuttering up for the night.
The one Solomon Tekal was stepping out of was no exception. Restless feet had brought him into town, and he’d found purpose in needing to order more parts for the greenhouse he was building. Expansion was needed, as was investment in a better hydration system. He’d cut it close, and it had taken up a great deal of his afternoon to get the deal struck. Now, as the sun was setting low he was counting himself a fortunate man to have had just enough time to finish the task.
His restlessness had only increased during the course of the afternoon, causing him to watch the chrono on his left wrist very often. The feeling gave way to the sensation that something wasn’t right. It gnawed at him, an incessant itch to his mind. He counted it a blessing that he had not been the sole focus of those tending the contracting company he was consulting with, it gave him a chance to cover his agitation with how slowly things were moving.
Leaving the storefront with the world thinning out around him, Sol found himself growling out a little curse with another look at his chrono. His comm was fished out of his jacket pocket, the soft nerf hide garment creasing and wearing around his torso with the ease of something well looked after and softened through chemical treatments.
He made a call to Trinity to let her know he was going to be late, cutting her off before the call could be turned into a conversation. He didn’t want that right then, he couldn’t handle it right then just as he couldn’t handle the slow moving couple he had run into on his way toward the port where his transport was waiting.
The sturdy and flowing buildings around him were nearly glowing with the sunset, duraglass windows catching the rays of dying light. It was all very peaceful and beautiful. Solomon didn’t have eyes for it. His agitation was growing, and with no real idea why he just held his head down, dodged the couple with a quick step and hurried on his way. Whatever it was, it was mounting. The sensation was getting worse.
It wasn’t a problem until his vision started to cloud over, and the world around him expanded into a cloudy haze.
”No,”
The hiss was a familiar voice, and the feeling that came with it was as close to caged rage as it could be.
The cloud thickened, that rage just as blinding. He could see nothing past it, but did feel it when he brushed against something solid enough to be a living thing. That thing moved, he felt a pair of hands on him, disorientation setting in as the cloud took over.
“Hey, are you alright?”
A woman’s voice. He could hear it, but he couldn’t see the face. The concern he heard was distant, and might as well have been half way across the city for all it mattered.
“Haller, get the speeder and call Jaher. We’re going to be late.”
A man answered that, his stutter curious and just as empty as the concern the woman had spoken with.
“Here, sit before you fall.”
A wall provided the support, and beneath him was the smooth surface of a walkway. He still couldn’t see who was talking, but her hands were just as stable as the kindness in her voice.
She was holding onto him, Solomon’s own hands pressing down against the ground that was suddenly beneath him. When had he sat down? It didn’t fucking matter.
“No, stay sitting.”
He tried to push her away, his hands sloppy and the result less than what he wanted.
The anger was a searing flash across his mind. He wasn’t going to be forced into anything, he wasn’t going to play that game. Worthless, spineless pieces of fodder were not worth that much to him.
The beast of that emotion was growing, flaring out, and then drawn back in like a large ferocious beast flexing its wings only to fold them back against its body.
The voice, the impression of it more than any sound he could have heard with that singular No was accompanied by a sensation of a storm that was ever moving, a fine lined focus that had thousands of different facets and a way of plucking at each. Both the impression of voice, and self, belonged to Sadhric Tlin. The Mechanic was beyond furious.
“Do you have your ident stick with you?”
The female voice was there again, distorted through the rush of realization and instinct that filled in some gaps and put an even harder edge on what he was feeling.
“There we are,”
He felt the fabric of his jacket move, smooth fingers pulling his ident stick from an inner pocket.
Under normal circumstances it would not have gotten that far. She wouldn’t have been given the freedom to lay her hands on him, she would not have gotten anywhere remotely close to sitting him down and getting access to his ident stick.
The Force was delivering a message, one that took over his senses and caused blindness to the world around him.
“Hello Solomon Tekal. My name is Mercy Trang, and I’ve been waiting a long time to talk with you.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
With night falling over the Hapan cityscape glow-lamps were coming to life, keeping the night at bay. Shops were closing up, their neon heartbeats flatlined until morning. The market area of the city was becoming less and less occupied in many spots, daily life quieting down as the end drew near. Eateries were still open for business, the little Hapan cafes finding their pulse in moments like this.
She and her entourage were making their way for one they had heard was open for alien visitors. With a small portion of the population against the conferences, it had been decided that a sympathizing cafe would be better than risking anything else.
They were on their way, going over the next day’s itinerary, when something peculiar happened. A man with blonde hair was charging their way, stumbling over his own steps, holding onto a balance that looked to be off center. He looked drunk, with his left hand pressed against the side of his head, barely able to keep to his feet.
Quick reaction took her closer, her small group of aides following behind, “Hey, are you alright?”
He hadn’t stopped when she’d gotten in his way, brushing against her solidly enough to cause her to shift her position to not be brushed aside. Slender blue hands closed over his arms, catching him as he stumbled and nearly fell.
“Haller,” She turned to look at her assistant, “get the speeder, and call Jaher. We’re going to be late.” and then she was back to the blond haired man at the ends of her arms, “Here, sit before you fall.”
Gentle strength guided him down to the walkway, having helped him to get his back against a wall for support. Waiting for Haller was going to give her the opportunity to really take a look at the man. Something about him seemed familiar. The edge of recognition just a sense that she’d seen someone like him before.
Behind her, her group of aides spread and circled, watching her as she knelt and tried to help this ailing figure.
He’d put his hands against the walkway, needing to feel the solid structure beneath him. It felt like the only thing in the world that wasn’t moving around him right then. He pushed himself up, she watched the tension grow in his arms, the way his face flushed and his eyes remained unfocused on everything around him.
There was so much anger coming from within him. It was a rage that could tear buildings apart if it were let to.
Reaching out, she calmly pushed him back down, and kept her hands on him for a few seconds to make sure the message was clear, “No, stay sitting.”
In protest, he tried to brush her hands away. The attempt was ineffectual and sloppy, barely able to budge a finger. This movement just as uncoordinated as his feet had been.
“Do you have your ident stick with you?” She asked, looking him over. He didn’t appear to be a vagabond. There was nothing about his clothing that screamed he was in need financially. His nerf hide jacket was clean, his clothing was clean. He was well kept, if out of sorts.
“There we are.” Deft fingers pulled the jacket open, pockets searched for the little stick that carried personal information. On finding it she pulled it out and activated it, and what she read drew a smile.
“Hello, Solomon Tekal. My name is Mercy Trang, and I’ve been waiting a long time to talk with you.”
The one Solomon Tekal was stepping out of was no exception. Restless feet had brought him into town, and he’d found purpose in needing to order more parts for the greenhouse he was building. Expansion was needed, as was investment in a better hydration system. He’d cut it close, and it had taken up a great deal of his afternoon to get the deal struck. Now, as the sun was setting low he was counting himself a fortunate man to have had just enough time to finish the task.
His restlessness had only increased during the course of the afternoon, causing him to watch the chrono on his left wrist very often. The feeling gave way to the sensation that something wasn’t right. It gnawed at him, an incessant itch to his mind. He counted it a blessing that he had not been the sole focus of those tending the contracting company he was consulting with, it gave him a chance to cover his agitation with how slowly things were moving.
Leaving the storefront with the world thinning out around him, Sol found himself growling out a little curse with another look at his chrono. His comm was fished out of his jacket pocket, the soft nerf hide garment creasing and wearing around his torso with the ease of something well looked after and softened through chemical treatments.
He made a call to Trinity to let her know he was going to be late, cutting her off before the call could be turned into a conversation. He didn’t want that right then, he couldn’t handle it right then just as he couldn’t handle the slow moving couple he had run into on his way toward the port where his transport was waiting.
The sturdy and flowing buildings around him were nearly glowing with the sunset, duraglass windows catching the rays of dying light. It was all very peaceful and beautiful. Solomon didn’t have eyes for it. His agitation was growing, and with no real idea why he just held his head down, dodged the couple with a quick step and hurried on his way. Whatever it was, it was mounting. The sensation was getting worse.
It wasn’t a problem until his vision started to cloud over, and the world around him expanded into a cloudy haze.
”No,”
The hiss was a familiar voice, and the feeling that came with it was as close to caged rage as it could be.
The cloud thickened, that rage just as blinding. He could see nothing past it, but did feel it when he brushed against something solid enough to be a living thing. That thing moved, he felt a pair of hands on him, disorientation setting in as the cloud took over.
“Hey, are you alright?”
A woman’s voice. He could hear it, but he couldn’t see the face. The concern he heard was distant, and might as well have been half way across the city for all it mattered.
“Haller, get the speeder and call Jaher. We’re going to be late.”
A man answered that, his stutter curious and just as empty as the concern the woman had spoken with.
“Here, sit before you fall.”
A wall provided the support, and beneath him was the smooth surface of a walkway. He still couldn’t see who was talking, but her hands were just as stable as the kindness in her voice.
She was holding onto him, Solomon’s own hands pressing down against the ground that was suddenly beneath him. When had he sat down? It didn’t fucking matter.
“No, stay sitting.”
He tried to push her away, his hands sloppy and the result less than what he wanted.
The anger was a searing flash across his mind. He wasn’t going to be forced into anything, he wasn’t going to play that game. Worthless, spineless pieces of fodder were not worth that much to him.
The beast of that emotion was growing, flaring out, and then drawn back in like a large ferocious beast flexing its wings only to fold them back against its body.
The voice, the impression of it more than any sound he could have heard with that singular No was accompanied by a sensation of a storm that was ever moving, a fine lined focus that had thousands of different facets and a way of plucking at each. Both the impression of voice, and self, belonged to Sadhric Tlin. The Mechanic was beyond furious.
“Do you have your ident stick with you?”
The female voice was there again, distorted through the rush of realization and instinct that filled in some gaps and put an even harder edge on what he was feeling.
“There we are,”
He felt the fabric of his jacket move, smooth fingers pulling his ident stick from an inner pocket.
Under normal circumstances it would not have gotten that far. She wouldn’t have been given the freedom to lay her hands on him, she would not have gotten anywhere remotely close to sitting him down and getting access to his ident stick.
The Force was delivering a message, one that took over his senses and caused blindness to the world around him.
“Hello Solomon Tekal. My name is Mercy Trang, and I’ve been waiting a long time to talk with you.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
With night falling over the Hapan cityscape glow-lamps were coming to life, keeping the night at bay. Shops were closing up, their neon heartbeats flatlined until morning. The market area of the city was becoming less and less occupied in many spots, daily life quieting down as the end drew near. Eateries were still open for business, the little Hapan cafes finding their pulse in moments like this.
She and her entourage were making their way for one they had heard was open for alien visitors. With a small portion of the population against the conferences, it had been decided that a sympathizing cafe would be better than risking anything else.
They were on their way, going over the next day’s itinerary, when something peculiar happened. A man with blonde hair was charging their way, stumbling over his own steps, holding onto a balance that looked to be off center. He looked drunk, with his left hand pressed against the side of his head, barely able to keep to his feet.
Quick reaction took her closer, her small group of aides following behind, “Hey, are you alright?”
He hadn’t stopped when she’d gotten in his way, brushing against her solidly enough to cause her to shift her position to not be brushed aside. Slender blue hands closed over his arms, catching him as he stumbled and nearly fell.
“Haller,” She turned to look at her assistant, “get the speeder, and call Jaher. We’re going to be late.” and then she was back to the blond haired man at the ends of her arms, “Here, sit before you fall.”
Gentle strength guided him down to the walkway, having helped him to get his back against a wall for support. Waiting for Haller was going to give her the opportunity to really take a look at the man. Something about him seemed familiar. The edge of recognition just a sense that she’d seen someone like him before.
Behind her, her group of aides spread and circled, watching her as she knelt and tried to help this ailing figure.
He’d put his hands against the walkway, needing to feel the solid structure beneath him. It felt like the only thing in the world that wasn’t moving around him right then. He pushed himself up, she watched the tension grow in his arms, the way his face flushed and his eyes remained unfocused on everything around him.
There was so much anger coming from within him. It was a rage that could tear buildings apart if it were let to.
Reaching out, she calmly pushed him back down, and kept her hands on him for a few seconds to make sure the message was clear, “No, stay sitting.”
In protest, he tried to brush her hands away. The attempt was ineffectual and sloppy, barely able to budge a finger. This movement just as uncoordinated as his feet had been.
“Do you have your ident stick with you?” She asked, looking him over. He didn’t appear to be a vagabond. There was nothing about his clothing that screamed he was in need financially. His nerf hide jacket was clean, his clothing was clean. He was well kept, if out of sorts.
“There we are.” Deft fingers pulled the jacket open, pockets searched for the little stick that carried personal information. On finding it she pulled it out and activated it, and what she read drew a smile.
“Hello, Solomon Tekal. My name is Mercy Trang, and I’ve been waiting a long time to talk with you.”
