Working as a courier wasn’t exactly something that Hera was a stranger to. It was an odd job to help feed the crew, a task for the Rebellion, and now? She was just glad to be carting legal cargo across the wide plain of the island in the beat up old hoverbike -regular bike? It had wheels that connected it to the ground instead of antigrav technology- with a sidecar full of goodies from the world below.
It wasn’t exactly a difficult job, just a long one, and it paid well enough. Still, when she actually got to Verens, it was always difficult to navigate. Like the great city canyons of worlds like Coruscant, you needed something that could float to really get where you needed to go in a hurry. And until she’d lived in Verens long enough? For now, she’d need directions.
“Excuse me!” She calls over the roar of the hoverbike, pulling her goggles up from her face. She knows she must look a mess, her worker’s jumpsuit and leather vest covered in dust from travelling across the plain.
“I’m looking for Clocktower Street. I have a delivery to make?” She gives the stranger her best smile. “Think you could help a girl out?”
D-2 || It’s Alive!!! She certainly didn’t like this one bit. The things looked like Pumpkins from the moons of Endor. Good enough, she supposed, but the fact that they were sentient made her lekku crawl and squirm together uncomfortably. Well, seemingly sentient, if the gigantic rolling pumpkin being chased about by human children in the middle of the field was any indication.
Hera’s not paying much attention as she leans back against the fence, trying to fiddle with her commlink to see if she can pick up a signal from anyone. Nothing. Nothing but radio static. She doesn’t even notice as a vine slowly slithers up until it wraps itself around one of her lekku and yanks her back into the field, a pained gasp and a sharp shout coming from her mouth.
Her blaster is on her boot, and although she had promised not to use it while in civilian range, she’s under attack and she reacts first. Only another vine yanks her up by the boot, dangling her upside down. “Hey!” She shouts, trying to hoist herself up to grab at the blaster. “Put me down you-! HEY!” She spots a stranger passing by, near the fence of the field, and shouts to try and get their attention. “Hey, I need your help, cut me down-!”
F-2 || Wings of the Master Flying came naturally to her. There was something about the thrill of being in the air, the knowledge that she was kilometers above the ground, that made her feel light as a feather. That was the feeling she focused on as she tried to make the small stuffed birds around her take wing. It was something akin to the force, she imagined- channeling positive feelings into the web around you to make a positive reaction, or negative for the same effect. But her gloved hands cup the little stuffed birds and she closes her eyes, trying to remember what it feels like to fly.
In her mind, she’s sitting in the cockpit of the Ghost. She can see the plains of Lothal, or the crystalline moon of Cynda, or any of the other hundreds of planets and moons and stars she’s passed, and it all stretches across her viewport as far as she can see. The hum of the engines rumbles in her palms, the yoke is molded perfectly to her hands, and she can’t help the grin as she dives, rolls over, takes evasive maneuvers to dodge invisible enemies.
In the sky, she’s at home. Which is why, she supposes, when she opens her eyes, she’s floating well into the rafters of the stage. “Oh, dear, this is… embarrassing.” She grabs at the rafters with gloved fingers, trying to keep herself from floating off any higher. Someone else should be along to help with the show soon, right?
“Excuse me! Could you get a ladder?” She calls down when she hears footsteps. “Or a lead weight. I’m not picky.”
Hera Syndulla || Star Wars Rebels
Working as a courier wasn’t exactly something that Hera was a stranger to.
It was an odd job to help feed the crew, a task for the Rebellion, and now? She was just glad to be carting legal cargo across the wide plain of the island in the beat up old hoverbike -regular bike? It had wheels that connected it to the ground instead of antigrav technology- with a sidecar full of goodies from the world below.
It wasn’t exactly a difficult job, just a long one, and it paid well enough. Still, when she actually got to Verens, it was always difficult to navigate. Like the great city canyons of worlds like Coruscant, you needed something that could float to really get where you needed to go in a hurry. And until she’d lived in Verens long enough? For now, she’d need directions.
“Excuse me!” She calls over the roar of the
hoverbike, pulling her goggles up from her face. She knows she must look a mess, her worker’s jumpsuit and leather vest covered in dust from travelling across the plain.“I’m looking for Clocktower Street. I have a delivery to make?” She gives the stranger her best smile.
“Think you could help a girl out?”
D-2 || It’s Alive!!!
She certainly didn’t like this one bit. The things looked like Pumpkins from the moons of Endor. Good enough, she supposed, but the fact that they were sentient made her lekku crawl and squirm together uncomfortably. Well, seemingly sentient, if the gigantic rolling pumpkin being chased about by human children in the middle of the field was any indication.
Hera’s not paying much attention as she leans back against the fence, trying to fiddle with her commlink to see if she can pick up a signal from anyone. Nothing. Nothing but radio static. She doesn’t even notice as a vine slowly slithers up until it wraps itself around one of her lekku and yanks her back into the field, a pained gasp and a sharp shout coming from her mouth.
Her blaster is on her boot, and although she had promised not to use it while in civilian range, she’s under attack and she reacts first. Only another vine yanks her up by the boot, dangling her upside down.
“Hey!” She shouts, trying to hoist herself up to grab at the blaster.
“Put me down you-! HEY!” She spots a stranger passing by, near the fence of the field, and shouts to try and get their attention.
“Hey, I need your help, cut me down-!”
F-2 || Wings of the Master
Flying came naturally to her. There was something about the thrill of being in the air, the knowledge that she was kilometers above the ground, that made her feel light as a feather. That was the feeling she focused on as she tried to make the small stuffed birds around her take wing. It was something akin to the force, she imagined- channeling positive feelings into the web around you to make a positive reaction, or negative for the same effect. But her gloved hands cup the little stuffed birds and she closes her eyes, trying to remember what it feels like to fly.
In her mind, she’s sitting in the cockpit of the Ghost. She can see the plains of Lothal, or the crystalline moon of Cynda, or any of the other hundreds of planets and moons and stars she’s passed, and it all stretches across her viewport as far as she can see. The hum of the engines rumbles in her palms, the yoke is molded perfectly to her hands, and she can’t help the grin as she dives, rolls over, takes evasive maneuvers to dodge invisible enemies.
In the sky, she’s at home. Which is why, she supposes, when she opens her eyes, she’s floating well into the rafters of the stage.
“Oh, dear, this is… embarrassing.” She grabs at the rafters with gloved fingers, trying to keep herself from floating off any higher. Someone else should be along to help with the show soon, right?
“Excuse me! Could you get a ladder?” She calls down when she hears footsteps. “Or a lead weight. I’m not picky.”