remembrance

ari

"Can't a girl get a break?" Alora grumbles as she ducks behind a meat stall, hiding behind one of the flaps of cloth that shields its visitors from the glaring hot sun of Jakku. The sounds of yelling in the streets fill the air as stormtroopers force their way through the crowds, barking orders at each other and at the civilians that get in their way. Alora grimaces as she watches a young girl get thrown to the ground as one of the soldiers shoves his way past.

She quickly starts to make her way away from the troopers, slipping into crowds and weaving through the vendor stalls.

Luckily, they didn't know what she was yet. These troopers didn't know that they had just met a surviving Jedi; they'd just assumed that she was someone wanted by the Empire.

Was there a better way to have gotten out of that situation? Probably. All it took to upset them was to refuse to show them my identification... I don't even have identification. It defeats the purpose of the whole Jedi-in-hiding thing.

Alora had accidentally bumped into one of the troopers when she hadn't been paying attention. The sight of a flustered girl in a dark cloak had been enough to raise their suspicions, especially when Alora had become flustered only when she had run into them. The trooper had simply asked her for identification... and for some reason, Alora scrunched up her nose and bolted. Why she had to make a face before leaving the troopers in the dust, she didn't know.

Apparently, that had been enough to make them want to find her again.

Surely, there was something else that I must've done to make them want to find me. Maybe one of them recognized me... or saw my saber. I don't know, I don't know. What do I do? What do I do?

It's only been a few years since the fall of the Jedi. Since Order 66. Since everything that she had ever loved... everyone she ever had... all gone. Either dead or lost in this twisted game of hide-and-seek being led by the Empire.

And only a year or two of being somewhat free. Free from being tortured by the Empire and by Vader. Alora shudders at the thought of the monstrous excuse of a human being and adjusts her hood to hide more of her face. Never again will she allow the Empire to torture her. Rip apart emotionally, mentally, and physically. She'd been there, in Fortress Inquisitorious for at least a year. It felt like a decade. Every day there was another interrogation session. Another day of wishing for death to come. And now she's free and running.

Just seeing the symbol of the Empire makes Alora's stomach twist, as it is a constant reminder of her loss. The helmets of the stormtroopers... the eery similarity of those of the clones. Everything throws the past back into her face and she's started to block out all emotion in order to protect herself from that pain. A wall is being built, brick by brick, with every passing day. Some day, her heart will be completely locked away, leaving her void of herself... merely a hull of a person.

She doesn't want to end up that way... but she doesn't know how else to cope. It hurts too much.

"There! She's there!"

Alora glances up, peeking out from the hood of her cloak to see a trooper pointing her out, his voice booming and drawing attention from his comrades. She turns to dart away but freezes when she realizes that the stormtroopers have circled her location, preventing her from easily running away.

The trooper that had pointed her out storms up to her, pointing his blaster at her as he yells.

"Give me your identification, girl."

"Now, that's rude. Don't assume my gender," Alora quips, dodging the trooper as he tries to hit her for the retort.

"I'm not here to play games. Raise your arms. You're under arrest."