RPlog:Sensing Orson

West Blake St. - Plaxton City

Lined with meticulously groomed Vilinias Shade trees, Blake Street unrolls towards the coast. Park-style benches sit under the trees, making this area seem like an ongoing extension of Fountain Square. The Pula trees creeping from the beach have been allowed to occupy a few spots on the sidewalks, and a few buildings of prominence have disturbed the natural look of this district. Thick, dark leaves fill the branches of the trees, and some of the edges are beginning to turn red. Occupying the skyline to the north is 'The Oceanside', with its entertainment centers and resort-like hotel accomodations, topped with the famed Club Infinity. To the south, a new road has been cut through the thick forest of Vilinias trees. The night sky above is clear.

Shale Before you is a young humanoid, looking to have the roughly the same proportions as your average human male. A strong jawline and deepset eyes of blue-gray look out over high cheekbones, which are accentuated by dark gray horns of bone. The horns are shaped almost like teeth, curved inward like a spider's mandibles. The creature's face and hands are black as tar, as if he'd gathered a piece of the night sky and worn it in place of his own skin. All in all, the man's appearance and presence could be summed up in a word: fierce.

Shale is dressed in earth tones. Light tan, loose fitting trousers are tucked into soft leather boots that come up to just under his knees, and are tied tight with brown, leather chords. Tucked into the top of his pants is a simple shirt of a matching color. Over this is a loose wool tunic of dark brown, covering his arms completely and hanging down below his waste. It's comfortable clothing, suitable for most climates and cultures. Annalise There is a lost, haunted quality to the pale green eyes of this young human woman, a complex expression upon her pale features that imperfectly hides something which burns inside her. Her hair is almost as wild as her eyes: a shimmering, bright shade of silver bordering on white, cut short with bangs and somewhat longer layers that curve around her cheeks and end just above her slender neck.

She wears a typical, tattered spacer's jacket, with a form-fitting, sleek black jumpsuit beneath that shows off her long-legged grace, slim hips, and narrow waist. A well-worn utility belt circles her waist, a blaster holster slung low on one thigh. Her movements and mannerisms are calm and precise, but do nothing to call attention to her.

K'tyyri This Gorvan Horansi female is an 8 ft., solid body of golden sheen and rippling muscle. Her lean and well-built frame isn't as thick as a male's, but the potential of her predatory tendancies is obvious. Ivory-colored claws and teeth shine brightly while her golden-green eyes study you with intelligent observance. Alertears flicker back and forth atop a majestic head. Her muzzle slopes gracefully from the forehead and ends in a snuffling nose, from which mottled whiskers fan. Her golden-tan hide runs with smooth radiance down to the tufted tip of her tail,but two scars across her muzzle and flank briefly interrupt this pattern. An earthen brown loincloth wraps around her waist, and below her left shoulder, a shining, three-clawed medal is pinned on her leather sling that goes across her chest and shoulder, an honorable , award of war. This proud female carries herself straight and tall.

********* There were good reasons not to be out and about in Plaxton City this evening, and Annalise is aware of every one of them. She's still shaken up after her most recent encounter with the meddling Corellian Kyyel, and having spotted Tarrin in the crowd at the Sandbar when she went to retrieve food for them only made her nervousness even greater. All the people in the restaurant had taken a good, long, hard look at her, and she was grateful for the alterations in her appearance and attitude that kept her from being detected.

But now, even with warm food in her belly at last and the fresh breeze from the ocean wafting up along the street to shake the broad leaves of the Pula trees and fill her lungs with salty air, there's a growing sense of unease. She pauses beneath a tree, not far from where she had twice run into Kyyel this day, and wraps her hands nervously around the back of one of the benches. "Do you sense him?" she whispers, flicking her eyes toward her companion.

The one calling himself Shale now felt nothing but unease all day. A brief, solo journey to the beaches had left him feeling paranoid, for every tourist and beach crawler seemed to turn their eyes on him and his blackened skin. Even the sea birds appeared to scrutinize him with beyond normal curiosity. Travelling into more populace areas had been worse still. He knew that it wasn't just his imagination; people stared at him everywhere.

Turning an uneasy glance to his companion, Shale says in response to the woman's words, "I have sensed many. Annalise. Do you mean the one whose arm I broke, or do you mean... another?" He didn't need to specify who that other might be. He remembered all too well the feeling of their spiritual union, strong enough to rouse him from his sleep, overwhelming enough to dull the woman's senses so that she did not even notice him arise.

It was odd to hear him addressing her by the pseudonym she had plucked from her mother's records. "Catelyn Annalise Kyrn," the file had read. "Married, Thome Valios." They were only names to her; she knew nothing of the people who had brought her into existence, except through a few memories she'd shared with the one brother she'd ever spoken to. For the first time she wonders if she inherited this curse from one, or both, of them. Had their accidental deaths in that shipwreck really been caused by Palpatine's tool, Darth Vader? Was she the first Jedi to come from her family?

Those disturbing thoughts are followed closely by an even worse one when Shale speaks to her, and the girl calling herself Annalise catches her breath in her throat, pale lids slipping down over her eyes. "Yes, another," she murmurs, fighting off a wave of panic. When had he arrived, that she was only just now sensing him? Of course he would have seen the news reports. Of course, he would have come looking for her. What a fool.

"How safe do you think it would be to try to go offworld?" she insists suddenly. She considers his words as she walks around the bench and sits down, knowing that they are all but hidden here beneath the trees, the sun having gone down some time ago. Only a few straggling tourists make their way between the ocean and the area lined with shops and resorts. Something clicks into place, that she's been trying to keep at bay ever since she escaped with the Selas, some cold barrier she was reluctant to embrace now forming a steely support in her heart. Was she afraid of Orson? She was afraid of the power he had over her, afraid of the vulnerability of her love. But what use was there anymore in giving him that power?

Replacing her fear and hurt is a scar formed out of anger and resentment, forming like a cold, bitter stone deep in her soul. None of them could hurt her again if she used her powers to stop them. The thought brings an icy smile to her face, an expression there that never would have looked in place on Jessalyn's gentle visage. "I'm not afraid, anymore," she says sincerely. "So. We have to find ways to outsmart the people in the starport, and get by Orson without him stopping us or turning us in."

Frowning, Shale considers this. He knew his limitations when it came to dealing with people. Everyone he met seemed to be backwards or mislead or just plain wrong-headed. It was understandable, then, that Shale wasn't very good at outsmarting people, usually. If someone was wrong, his first impulse was to beat them over the head until they changed their mind. Shale knew full well that his way was not the subtle, sneaky way.

"I'm sure you have done this before," Shale says, flatly. It was a clever distinction between what he was thinking, which was that she was the deceptive one, not he. Now wasn't the time to ram hard words down her throat, though. "As for Orson... I almost hope that he does try to stop us. Almost."

As Annalise stands back up from the bench, restless now as she starts going over scenarios in her mind. She brings her fingers up to her throat, toying with the small blue-green stone resting there. She had almost forgotten about it entirely, and the associations with it make her frown and drop the hand to her side. "Almost?" she asks with narrowed eyes. "Why, so you can finish him off like you wanted to do on the Dimlyn Titan?" Knowing she should really speak out, let the Selas know she will defend the new Jedi -- her own apprentice -- if it ever came down to that battle. But all at once she's unsure. Perhaps Orson would try to destroy her, seeing now what she really is on the inside. "Well," she goes on, changing the subject. "I might be able to get someone to help us."

Quietly, Shale studies Annalise as she goes through her minor eruption. There was something nagging him now at the back of his mind, like an itching that he couldn't scratch. He knew what it was. It was the future, blossoming just beyond the horizon, tantalizingly close. Somehow, he had a feeling that all would be decided when Annalise met Orson again, and her true feelings about he and the Jedi were laid bare.

"Be careful who you trust. Annalise," Shale says, his words a touch frosty. "This place crawls with liars and thieves."

Liars and thieves...ah yes...K'tyyri would know about that. The tall, overbearing appearance of this Gorvan comes sauntering down the street at a liesurely pace, slender waist slowly swinging back and forth slightly as she walks upright, tail keeping in time behind her. Her body, though thin for a Gorvan, is not lacking in the complex muscle structure of her species. Most fled at even a hint of anger from this female. And so she walks, without a worry. "I know to be careful," Annalise insists, hands on her hips now in defiance. She had even dared reach out with those forbidden senses to gauge her safety in the presence of the Corellian who had offered his help to her. If he hadn't seemed kind and resourceful, and devoid of any hint of deception or subterfuge, she would never have bothered speaking to him at all. But her sense of guilt had stopped her from accepting the offer; the old part of her that cared about the ramifications of her actions on others had refused to have the stranger risk himself on her behalf.

But now... when they were so desperate to escape. When she was so desperate to get off this planet before being forced to look Orson in the face again.... Shale may believe the confrontation will be pivotal, but it's one she never wants to face. "And I know how to take care of liars and theives. We won't be deceived."

Drawing a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh, Shale gives Annalise another weighing look. He says, carefully, "I am going to look at what lies ahead at the spaceport, once more. You should not follow." Taking a step back and away from Annalise, the ebony skinned man keeps his eyes fixed on the silvery haired woman for a handful of heartbeats before turning and moving off toward the shadows of the night.