ahphra.

SHE   LIKES   THE   WAY   THAT   OFFER   SOUNDS   .      Though   the   underworld   has   been   her   home   for   a   long   time   now   ,   there’s   a   part   of   her   that   LONGS   for   the   stability   ,   the   order   that   being   shackled   to   a   medical   license   would   bring   .      (   She   hadn’t   gone   through   eleven   years   of   schooling   for   nothing   ;   despite   her   FRACTURED   MORALS   ,   Aphra   was   still    a   doctor   .   ) 

The   cement   floor   is   COLD   against   her   palm   as   she   pushes   herself   to   her   feet   ,   the   movement   containing   none   of   Vader’s   grace   .      (   There’s a  a   STUMBLE   ,   a   hop   ,   as   she   regains   her   footing   ,   just   a   little   off   -   kilter   in   her   motions   .   )      It’s   only   a   few   steps   to   peer   at   the   blueprints   ,   CURIOSITY   getting   the   better   of   her   . 

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Head   tilts   at   an   awkward   angle   as   she   looks   at   the   papers   ,   eyes   flicking   from   them   to   Vader   for   a   moment   before   she   speaks   ,                        Sounds   like   fun   ,                       It’s   more   to   herself   than   anything   ,   though   EASILY   AUDIBLE   in   the    otherwise   silent   warehouse   ,                        I’ve   got    some   contacts   ;   people   that   owe   me   a   favor   or   two   .      I   can   get   whatever   you   need   from   them   ,                       A   pause   ,   brows   knit   slightly   ,   almost   TENTATIVE   with   the   words   that   follow   ,                        The   license  .      That’s   a   promise   ?      ❜

               A LIFE UNDERGROUND is a lonely existence, especially for someone who yearns for legitimacy the way Doctor Aphra does. She had a future, a functioning medical degree, && a budding legacy once upon a time. Vader can only theorize what might have landed her without her license. But given her comfort with the way she lives now, his guess is that it had to do with money

               Isn’t that what most things are about in the shadows? Vader works for the boys in black, the shiny badge flashers with their false smiles && fake stories. Their violence is self-righteous, && Vader is their cocked gun. What he knows of criminals comes from water cooler whispers; the uncensored && overheard. It all seems so trivial now that he’s playing for the other team. But money has never held any value to him, materialistic or otherwise. 

     ❝ My word is my bond, ❞ his voice rolls like thunder, eyes etched with thin lines of concentration as he studies the layout of the facility. He’d not given himself time to look at it after originally swiping the map from one of the scientists’ cabinets, all too aware of the possibility that someone could be watching him from any angle. Now to see the prison that’d held him for more than forty years spread out before him, he finds himself seething that he didn’t find an escape sooner. 

               The holding block has clearly been expanded since the last time he shared a cell with any of the other subjects. How many people they have locked up there now Vader can’t even count. Far more than he’d anticipated. Where are they getting these subjects? Vader can admit to some curiosity as to what his own origins are, but a part of him is afraid to find out. Afraid to discover that he was always the Bad Men’s favorite weapon.

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     ❝ Your contacts, who are they? ❞

 
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independent & private roleplay blog for anakin skywalker/darth vader of all star wars media. written by scout. || est. feb 2016.