Sun Apr 29, 2012 1:06 pm by Alik Derendal
*Finding his way into the Jedi Temple of Corellia had been a long, dangerous, and careful journey for Alik Derendal- or as he had begun calling himself since arriving on the planet, "Gold". It wasn't that Alik liked to discard his old name. He wasn't hiding from anything he'd done. No, he was hiding from the actions of his mother. So when he'd first disembarked from the Knossa Spaceport weeks ago, he'd tried to make a living under the table in the city. First as a dishwasher, then as a street cleaner, and after that he'd been a busker in the parks- playing a cheap stringed instrument he'd bought in an antique shop in the green commons for coins.*
*It wasn't a bad living for Alik. Actually, he'd been doing better here on Corellia than any other world which he'd chosen to hide on. He'd made enough money to afford a room of his own (albeit with a common refresher for the entire floor- ugh!) and was becoming a regular performer at some of the bars and watering holes. Given a few weeks to clean up his clothes and work in some better establishments, he'd have saved enough to buy a ticket to the countryside. Maybe tour the smaller towns where it was safer, but opportunity was harder to come by.*
*Of course, it all came crashing down like it always did. Someone found him. Who they were or how they'd done it didn't matter- it always happened just as Alik was about to catch a true break. This time had been closer than most others. Thankfully the hired gun had run afoul of a Cor-Sec patrol and become a rather messy footnote on the evening news. After evading the authorities and a brief stay in the emergency wing of a small hospital, Alik was able to slip out of there with no money left and his instrument in hand. Well, 'slip out' was wrong. One of the doctors had taken a look at a blood sample they'd taken during his treatment, probably discerned his identity, and thrown him into a cab probably to keep him from bringing more bounty hunters into a medical building. Still, the doctor had given him a datapad, locked by a fingerprint module with specific instructions about what to do with it when he arrived at his destination.*
*The cab dropped Alik off at a side entrance to an enormous complex, and the teenager was awkwardly ushered inside by the guard on duty after Alik showed him the datapad and explained where he'd come from.*
*And now he was standing in some sort of office, all fancy wood paneling and fine furniture. Alik felt more out of place than ever before. He wasn't dressed too shabby- the med staff had cleaned the blood out of his white linen shirt, and his formal black slacks had seen better days- as had his pointed leather boots. His dark hair had been cleaned but not cut, and his blue eyes were ringed with dark circles from lack of sleep. But for all the problems with his individual details, Alik still carried himself for what he was, and what he was trying hard to pretend not to be- disgraced and hunted Hapan royalty. His posture was elegant, almost haughty, and his hands were immaculate and uncallused. Aside from handling the instrument slung over his back, one would almost believe that Alik had never worked a day in his life (a very false assumption).*
*So, without knowing what he was doing here or where he was going to go after he delivered the datapad to whatever Jedi was on duty behind the counter, Alik set the long black dataslate on the desk and tapped a finger onto the flashing "Call" button, ringing a soft bell for service. Hopefully this delivery was a repayment for the thousands of credits he no doubt owed for emergency surgery on his shoulder days ago. Blaster wound treatment didn't come cheap these days. Whatever it took, Alik would see it done, then take his chances on the road with his strings. Better than waiting in the city, where every other customer could be a gun waiting for a clear shot.*
"Is anyone in today?" He asked. "Or are you, um, closed?"
