| abstract | - Fountain Square - Plaxton City The huge buildings in the background threaten to take over this small patch of green that is the center of Plaxton City. A stone fountain -still in place from another time- sits in the center of the square. It depicts a young woman looking into the sky. Water flares around her and bursts into a star pattern ten feet above her head. The inscription at the base of the fountain is written in the aging language of a more romantic time. 'Farewell, for all journeyers that leave this place shall always return to call it home.' Newly planted, lush trees now dominate the square, shading the area from the mid-day sky above is clear. Dark bushy leaves cover the branches, offering shade for the ground below. Patches of well maintained grass surround the base of the trees, allowing space for visitors to relax or picnic. The central, most famous area of Plaxton City, seems to become more and more park-like with the frequent additions and maintnence. A pair of Marines quietly watch over the area. Daana Towering at nearly two meters height, Daana Roon is of average height for a Wroonian female, with her pale blue skin and her dark blue, almost black, thick hair the most noticeable features. Her figure doesn't appear to be strong, yet lithe and used to longer periods of labour. Grey eyes peek curiously out of her blueish face that is mostly plain. A relative small and roundish nose leads down to her thin, dark blue lips, that hide her white straight teeth, rooted in dark violet flesh. Currently she is wearing a white long-sleeved shirt, tucked into grey pants that lap over black bantha-hide boots that are ankle high. Around her hip a holster-belt is slung, covered partially by her coat, as well grey. Dangeling below that is a black lether necklace that is run through a relative long fang of an animal. Her hair is bound back into a strict 'pony-tail', so it doesn't get into her vision. A XiX Blaster Pistol, sleek and yet deadly, has taken residence in the holster around her hips. Orson Too short, not handsome, and a little too old. What's lacking in looks has to be made up for with something strong on the inside: determination and persistence, a certain grit evident in the look sent by his slate gray eyes. Lines around this human male's mouth and eyes tell of hard days and decisions in his past, each one a new crease in an otherwise young man's face. He is smaller framed, though quite stout with a barrel chest and strong shoulders. Still, he's not overly muscled, simply in good physical shape. Dark hair is kept in a simple style but is more often than not in a disheveled state. A few lonely gray hairs touch his temples. He might be around forty standard years old. He has a larger nose, on a round-shaped, bold face that is quick with a grin but usually caught up in a shade of thoughtful. He is wearing fur pants, thick white, large and billowing at the legs. A black tank top covers his thick barrel chest; while fit and stout, he is not overly muscled. A gray scarf encircles his waist, evening the dark and light on the man and helping keep his clothes in place. It has been knotted on one side and trails almost all the way to the ground. Soft-soled but thick boots cover his feet. An oversized set of goggles are strapped to his head, stretchy material securing them in an 'X' shaped band around the back of his skull. The lenses are tinted rose red. Jessalyn The composure of this young human woman is probably the most striking thing about her. Though otherwise unassuming, her expression is one of surprising coherence and calm, belied only by the slightly mischievous gleam in her leaf green eyes. Shining dark red hair falls in unruly silken waves down to the middle of her back, framing her wide cheekbones and smooth, pale skin not as fragile as most redheads'. She is relatively tall for a human woman, with long-boned limbs and a natural grace amplified by her skills. She is wearing a dark green, long-sleeved shirt beneath a velvet black tunic that is belted at her narrow waist. The full sleeves are cinched above her pale, slender wrists. A pair of tight, dark green pants are tucked into knee-high black leather boots, both complementing the best pair of legs in ten parsecs. It's yet another fine day in Plaxton City, the blue sky a bright backdrop for the fluffy white clouds that ride the wind across the surface of the planet. Plaxton City is always lively this time of year, and today in particular is no exception. Schoolchildren on their summer break flock noisily with their guardians to attractions all across the city; tourists converge on the picturesque beaches, or visit the rugged mountain resorts that surround the city; merchants and traders set up their vending stalls in a gaudy array, offering every kind of imaginable trinket or gift; and two Jedi Knights who fail to fall into any of these categories stroll at a leisurely pace along the boulevard, appearing to anyone else as just another couple exploring what the city has to offer. The woman, red-haired and leggy, pauses as she and her companion reach the fountain at the center of the square, and her hand fidgets nervously with the strap of the plain brown leather pack slung over her shoulder. "I feel like we're being watched," Jessalyn says under her breath to Orson. She's been on edge ever since that bizarre encounter with a man who had apparently been stalking both of them, and even now has to admit the real reason for venturing out is so that she can try to bring any danger out of the woodwork and into plain sight. Her Jedi senses scan every face a little more carefully now, and she sighs quietly, not enjoying the sense of paranoia. Pursing his lips and giving a little sniff, the broad-shouldered man beside Jessalyn frowns. "You're..." With a pause and a slow breath out, Orson's eyes tick from side to side, like the little machine that runs his brain is suddenly thrown into overdrive. With the slow breath, he -becomes- more diffuse. Orson feels no specific threat, but then his capabilities are a fraction of his companion's. What he does feel, however, is something emanating from Jessalyn. "...not serious. Are you?" He could understand her being on edge, and had been that way himself recently. He had only heard about her experience on the street, however, so he was an observer, like at a suspense holovid. Just waiting for the monster to jump out. Day Four. Four days on this planet. A bit like a deja vu, this is. Only that this times she isn't stranded on this godforsaken nice and friendly planet. Even her being grounded on Tatooine has not been as hard for Daana as her time here. But no, she has a ship, quietly waiting in the Starport, and yet she is still here - booooored. Not excactly minding that her employer will not be pleased about her dissapearing with one of their ships for almost a week, she once again arrives at the trademark of this City: The Fountain Square. Fate may know why she is drawn back here over and over again, but the statue in the center, looking longingly at the stars seem to reflect her mood always when she has to spend more then a couple (that means two) days here. Did she mention she was bored already? Scanning over the people present, milling around, walking and enjoying the beauty of the season and doing all other sorts of activity that is so much day to day, so much routine it drives Daana out of her mind in persuit of something new. Something that sends her blood racing. With a sigh, she dismisses that trail of thought. If only RSI could deliver that swoop more quickly. Patience, obviously, was never Daana's forte. With a resigned sigh, Jessalyn's shoulders fall. Though the sensation of being watched has nagged her since yesterday, she has to admit it's largely in her mind. The Force offers no answers now, when she looks into it for signs of danger. Still, part of her is certain she hasn't seen the last of that sinister, well-dressed man who knew her by name though she'd never seen him before in her life. "No," she admits, a little sheepishly, trying to relax as she smiles at Orson. "Not now, anyway." She stops and sits on the edge of the fountain, dropping the bag at her feet and tilting her head to look up at the Jedi student. "But I'm going to keep my eye out, anyway." "That's a good idea," Orson admits, looking around himself. "But I don't think we've got anything to worry about. Not with two of us, anyway." The mechanic smiles and reaches out to rest a hand on the woman's shoulder. "I guess Drew didn't get my message," he adds, scanning the square for that familiar leggy blonde woman. It's not so far away, really, the cheap paper bag full of a crunchy snack, resting on the edge of the fountain just a few meters away from Orson and Jessalyn. Daana may have already seen it. The red and white vertical stripes of the packaging bulge around the full bag, which looks untouched, the food covered in a shiny candy coating. It's a Plaxton City favorite. Laying beside the bag is a narrow strip of clear but green-tinted plastic. A strip of reflective foil is coiled within the small device, with writing on it. Daana is gazing upwards to the woman in the fountain for a few moments. In her mind, she seems like she knows every feauture of this statue by heart meanwhile, and once again she sighs, this time with a frown. Turning herself around, so she can sit on the edge of the fountain, the blinking of something to the side of her catches her eye, indeed. Blinking and pausing in her movement, she tilts her head, glancing at the paperback, and the strange device that seems to reflect the sun's light from within, what is very much the way it is, in this particular case. Curious as Daana is, she peeks up from her newfound focus of interest, simply to assure that the owner of it is not nearby. What she finds however, are Jessalyn and Orson, sitting in close enough proximity to her to be recognized at the ones accompying Elana Tracer a few days before. Wondering for a moment if the two of them could be the ones who found her before she could (nah, if paid, they wouldn't have sticked around her so long) or if they belong to the ones who actually paid for her to be found. Alternating her glance for a moment between the object and the two persons, she decides to do the obvious best thing. Head towards both of them. For a moment more, Jessalyn only smiles pleasantly up at Orson, watching him as he turns to be on the lookout for Drew, content to simply memorize his features as she swings her legs back and forth over the edge of the fountain. "Oh? What time is she supposed to meet us?" she asks him, reaching up to pat at the hand he placed on her shoulder. But then that little nagging, tickling sensation comes back, causing her to merely turn her head and see the plastic bag of treats sitting so close by. Surprisingly close. It was far more than a coincidence. She recognizes it, and her spine goes rigid. She barely notices Daana's casual approach as she reaches out and snatches up the bag, her fingers trembling. "She's late, actually," Orson huffs. "Or, what time is it?" With a light shrug, he seems to indicate that either way, it doesn't matter. "I though we could get Mira and Drew to go out with us one night... what's...?" The man's voice trails off and he frowns, deeply. "What are you doing?" Orson's gray gaze flicks to the wroonian as well. Daana almost skips a step as the two turn to look in her direction, and moreso, seem to be the owner of the package and the blinking, reflecting -- thing --. But all of this would normally not affect Daana much, but the sudden change in posture and bodylanguage of Jessalyn... Stuffing her hands into her pockets, Daana slows her pace just a little and finding the gazes still on her, offers a smile. "Hello there...", she tries. "That your stuff?". An easy way out, if they assumed she was try to steal it. What she undoubtly would have done, if she saw a way to get away with it. Frowning distractedly, Jessalyn glances up at the new voice. Daana seems familiar -- it's hard to forget anyone with that kind of stature -- and the Jedi forces her mouth to curve into a smile of greeting. "Hello," she greets in return, then gives Orson a quick, nervous luck as she picks up the piece of green plastic that was laying beside the bag. "Actually, no," she answers uncertainly. "I was just wondering if it might belong to someone." Furrowing her brow, she uncoils the piece of foil, reading what is written upon it. You sent through the Force to Orson... The sense of paranoia around Jessalyn only grows stronger. "Orson, the man yesterday had a bag just like this one... he was eating from it." "Hi there," Orson sounds, dipping his head at the tower of Daana. Jerking back to Jessalyn, he moves to sit beside her, looking over the things quietly. "There are bags like this all over the city," he refutes to her unspoken comment, but doesn't even convince himself. The light-green plastric strip encases a reflective strip about two centimeters long. Along its length, some shiny lettering and a logo: Plaxton City Beachfront Amusements. It's a key, no, it's a ticket, an amusement park pass to an older place down on the water. Daana nods at this. "Exactly my thoughts.", she says. Sure, Daana. Glancing at Orson and his comment about the bags, then back at Jessalyn. In a happy and peaceful scene like the Fountain Square in summer, this two are decidingly too uneasy to fit in, Daana concludes. What might actually be a good thing. But for now, she just watches, grey eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to take a better look at what Jessalyn is retrieving. Once she unwraps the foil and reads it, Jessalyn feels mildly stupid. Why should a bag full of candy and the logo of an amusement park make her seem so insanely paranoid? The stranger, Daana, must think they are quite insane. "Oh," she says, adopting a singsong voice that is much lighter in tone than the way she was speaking before. "It's from an amusement park. Plaxton City Beachfront Amusements," she says, reading it out for the others' benefit. "I didn't even know there was such a place around here. Have you been there?" She makes smalltalk, even though inwardly her mind is buzzing with the new clue. What did the stranger have to do with an amusement park, and why was he leaving a trail for them to follow when he so obviously knew where to find them. Only a hint of this worry shows in the redhead's eyes as she glances at her apprentice. "I haven't been there," Orson considers, running his fingers through the thick white fur on his thighs. "But it's down on the beach, near where we surf. I thought it was an old industrial complex." Sounds like a very fun amusement park. "I'm Orson," the man comments up at Daana, giving the being a tentative wave. Daana ponders the description for a moment, trying to remeber a complex near the beaches. Shaking her head to herself, as she pulls a blank this time, she offers a smile at the now named strangeralong with her name: "Daana.", in her most friendly and pleasant voice, despite the fact the situation is growing strange. "I guess you two got lucky then, by finding a free card.", she offers to the couple, smirking amusedly. Realizing her rudeness, Jessalyn clears her throat as she folds the ticket back into place and holds it in her lap for lack of anything better to do with it. The bag of treats she sets at her feet. "I'm Jessalyn," she introduces herself, offering a hand, and giving the alien woman more attention than before as she smiles. "It's nice to meet you." Shrugging, she continues to feign interest in the idea of visiting the amusement park, though she has a feeling it wouldn't be a pleasure trip. "Yeah, a free ticket. I wonder if we should use it." "It might make you feel better," Orson says to Jessalyn's profile, smiling tightly. He means, of course, that she would feel better if she got to check it out, but then again, it could be a fun time. "Hit a couple of rides. I'll win you a prize. I wonder if it's that sort of place." The man lifts his chin at Daana. "Ever been?" She didn't seem like the amusement park sort. Daana shakes her head at the question. "No. I've been to the beaches, but have not seen anything like an amusement park.", she says, and after a short pause adds, "or like an industrial complex.". That was what he said he thought it would be, no? If Daana is not an amusement park type of gal, it is likely because of her size. Those rides are made for small people. Like Jessa and Orson are. With a dubious, sidelong glance to Orson, Jessalyn's lips curve slightly upward. "Really? You'll win me a prize?" she asks almost shyly, sounding all of fifteen going on thirty. "Maybe we can at least take a walk down there... have a look arund." The other comment that she makes to him is a silent one, heard only through the Force, and accompanied by a feeling of dread. _Either that, or we'll walk right into the trap waiting for us, my dear consort_. Mouth tight, Orson is clearly trying to hold back a wide grin. "You've forgotten about me, just the other day? I thought you knew," he explains, standing up. "I own the beach." With a hand on his tank-top covered chest, Orson leans forward, half-way bowing. "Perhaps Daana is headed that way herself." He turns and takes a step, already on his way.
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