Mar 22, 2019 6:33 PM
Deskyl in Cefax
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This is a city, if your standards for "city" don't require skyscrapers, electricity, or plumbing. She's landed on a side street; to her left, the crosswise thoroughfare has people hollering about their things for sale, people hurrying on foot and poking along on horseback to get here and there, storefronts and apartments in two and three story structures. The street she's standing on is quieter, houses and less customer-facing businesses, though it has its share of spillover traffic; she has not yet been noticed, by that fellow leading a goat or that woman with a basket of laundry or that family all holding hands so as not to lose each other. It's a cool day, a little misty.

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She stumbles when she appears, and opens her senses even as she's recovering her balance: it's already obvious that she's somewhere crowded, and overwhelmingly if not exclusively human, and that she's the only Force-sensitive in the area; is there anything else to be noticed?

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A usual range of emotions for the number of people - angry people shoving past each other, happy children playing games, sad mourners in prayer, neutral or bored background emotional noise of people whose day is an ordinary one for them.

One person over there is - different, somehow.

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She'll keep an eye on that. For now the first order of business is figuring out how to communicate. Or a nap; that took a lot out of her - but, no, communication first. She gestures for DZ to follow, and heads around the corner, looking for a bench to sit on.

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There are not public benches, but there are retaining walls and covered rain barrels and hitching posts that have enough surface on the top to perch on.

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She claims a patch of retaining wall by a merchant whose customers are talking a bit rather than just selecting their merchandise and paying, and settles in to translate for DZ.

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People notice her at this point. She's dressed weird - plus if you give DZ half a glance she's obviously not just somebody tromping around incongruously in armor. The shopkeeper asks her what she's doing there, a bit sharply.

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He gets a glare from Deskyl in return, and DZ says something incomprehensible but conciliatory.

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He gestures at them and tells them to clear off, as he does not want any strange foreigners around his shop.

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It doesn't seem like that's going to happen. Deskyl continues signing to DZ, relaying what he's saying to them; DZ apologizes again.

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The shopkeeper closes up and goes off to find somebody to help him shoo them.

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They stay put.

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He comes back with a guy in armor, with a spear in hand, who looks pretty confused by the robot. He approaches and attempts to communicate in mime that they are not welcome here.

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Deskyl considers this.

 

She signs to DZ.

    "Go...?"

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He shrugs, points in a random direction down a street. "Just not here. He doesn't like foreigners."

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This gets the merchant another look, but they head over that way anyway.

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Spear guy walks with them for a couple dozen steps, then waves in a genial sort of way and breaks off.

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They stop by another stall, same as before.

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This lady doesn't seem to care; she keeps selling her various powders and tinctures, barely looking twice at them. Her customers are more intrigued. DZ gets somebody trying to poke her in the elbow.

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The prospective elbow-poker gets a sharp look well before they get close.

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Elbow-poker is not looking at Deskyl, just at the robot. She's never seen a robot before! Poke!

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Deskyl steps between them before that can happen.

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"- hey," says the poker. "Is it yours?"

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"Yes."

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...upon hearing that the voice emerges not from the human but from the robot, the poker cranes her neck around Deskyl to look at her. "You talk!"

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She nods. "I talk a little."

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