Junkyards and Orphans, with a bit of Wookiee

Posted on Mon Apr 19th, 2021 @ 4:45am by Flight Officer Onyesonwu Zyd & Flight Officer Tawshiikkyrr

Mission: Scoundrels, Cuttthroats and Rogues
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Timeline: Day 0 at ....

Two Years Ago...

He'd found her scuffed up and scared in an alleyway, whoever'd been harrassing her long gone the second they'd heard the wookiee roar in warning then hove into view. He'd been on his way to the evening fight club, Tawshii's current means of earning credits, so time had been short and unkind.

Haro grinned as the big furry fella strolled leisurely into sight, a girl with a frizzy mop of unruly hair clinging to the wookiee's fur as she rode high atop his shoulders. But that grin faded swiftly as Tawshii lowered said girl down to the ground and grizzled and grumbled the harsh reality of their immediate situation.

"Sorry," Haro told the young woman as he waited to see if she'd meet his gaze. "He has to go to work." There was a long pause as the twenty-two year old considered the gravity of this moment. Picking up a stray right now? Not great timing, but he knew that look on Tawshii's face, and he fully understood the gravity in the wookiee's growl. "But... he's kinda my big brother and my best friend," Haro offered a little begrudgingly. "You can trust me."

Onye didn't resist when the wookiee set her on the ground, but she repositioned her clenched grip on his fur whilst he explained something about not being able to take her with him. She made a conscious effort to release her hold, to let go of that brief feeling of safety.

She wasn't sure how many days had passed since she watched her father die and Jwahir order Hemanga to abandon her in this horrific place. Onye hadn't really slept or eaten much since, and she was filthy. Those that had chased her down in the alleyway had used Galactic Standard words to offer food and shelter, but their body language said enslavement and she'd tried to escape.

Then a giant barely-remembered dream from her early childhood appeared and saved her. And now this human man, not much older than her twenty years with spoken words that matched his body language, was offering her reassurance and possibly help. A rare thing on Nar Shaddaa.

Hands free, Onye stood straight and signed in Notho, Leave-you to work. Understand-me now incomplete. She swallowed, and spoke aloud in the language of lies, "What now? Will you take me with you?"

Work now. Remain present. I return here. Later. Came the return sign in perfectly acceptable Notho. It wasn't pretty, but it was definitely recognisable and clearly learned from a native. Boy. Safe Then Tawshii roared, a warm chocolatey sound that reverberated through both younger individuals before he turned to leave.

Haro jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to where the strange, filth-coated girl could see the entrance to a junkyard, the unlikely looking towers of ship-carcasses giving that away with little need for signage.

"You can come with me," Haro said. "I gotta go work too." His dark brown gaze met with that of the wookiee for a long moment and the two exchanged some heavy eye contact, some quickly offered signs and a trade of complex growls.

Onye watched the wookiee stride away, her sudden surge of anxiety only partly soothed by the residual warmth instilled by his roar. When he was gone she turned toward the human man. Boy the wookiee had called him, though he was clearly an adult. Well built, handsome even. Maybe to a wookiee they were both children.

She noted the young man's gesture toward his place of employment and held his gaze, evaluating. On Nar Shaddaa no place and no person was truly safe. Caution and suspicion had kept her alive so far, plus her relative speed when running away. She considered the wisdom of running now, then discarded the idea. She wouldn't be able to avoid joining one of the street gangs for much longer. Onye didn't know what price she would pay for accepting help from the wookiee and his human partner, but it had to be a better option. Besides, she had a good feeling about this human.

Onye wiped her hand on her trousers so as to offer a handshake, but it came away just as dirty and she dropped it. Best not to offend him, or give the impression she welcomed casual touch. "Onye." She pointed to herself then to him. "What should I call you? And, what is your work in the junkyard?"

As he watched the young woman wipe her hands, Haro frowned, wondering why she chose to move dirt from her palm to her clothing. There didn't seem any point to the gesture. Then she spoke, simple words and questions, ones he could answer easily enough, though he hesitated. It wasn't her fault, but Haro didn't trust anyone on this planet besides the big furry guy who'd just left. He was wary to share information with a stranger.

"Haro," he said, after some considerable thought. No one could trace him back, not now. Right? He shrugged, and turned to lead them towards the yard itself. "I fix things," Haro added dismissively. "So they can be resold."

"You're a mechanic?" Onye's tone reflected an elevated level of respect for the young man, and she moved with Haro toward the junkyard entrance. "My father was a mechanic, and I-" she stopped speaking abruptly, caution returning with a wave of grief. There'd been no time to think beyond her immediate survival, no time to mourn her father. "Will, uh, your boss have a problem with me coming with you?"

"Kinda, yeah," Haro noted, with self-effacing humility. He was still learning, but he didn't feel like explaining that to a stranger, even if she did sound a bit brighter by his admission. "Mine was a doctor," he volunteered, giving very little detail but keeping in the spirit of a minor share despite their mutual caution.

Haro's attention went to the junkyard itself then as he pushed his way in through the gate and waited for Onye to slip past him. Would Arco mind? Good question...

"No," he said, with less surety. Then Haro shrugged. "I guess that depends. What can you do?"

Onye tried not to think of the junkyard's fence both protecting and confining the people and things inside as she followed Haro through the gate. "My father repaired ship systems. He taught me a bit." She thought of her father, smiling and patient, giving her a side-hug when she identified the short in a malfunctioning circuit board, signing one-handed how proud he was of her. Onye signed, Not-believe-me father-mine now-dead.

"I guess it depends what there is that needs fixing." Onye had only ever worked with her father, and her mechanical skills came nowhere close to his. So far she'd seen nothing in the junkyard that he would have considered salvageable. "Does your boss tell you what to repair, or do you search for likely things and fix them?"

Ship systems. Haro smiled a genuine smile. She would be useful then, and that made things considerably easier for them both. He picked up on the existence of her signing, but Tawshii was the one with those skills.

"HARO!" Came the irritated tone of someone who was expecting work to be accomplished today. There was grumbling, followed by a long stream of words uttered with overt irritation.

If the wookiee wanted her looked after, then that was what Haro would do. "Bit of both," he answered her question. "You ready?" Then he offered out his hand for her to take. It was every bit as filthy as hers.

Onye listened to the offer made in the cant of Haro's head, his determination to follow the wookiee's example in the set of his jaw, his acceptance of her in the flex of muscles along his neck and shoulders. Haro was making an honest offer of alliance - the kind of connection that could grow into friendship. Onyesonwu smiled her true smile, a smile she'd only given before to her father, and took his hand. "I'm ready."

-----