It's been a long few weeks (months, something reminded her at the very back of her mind). Blood has dried and flaked off various abrasions-bruises healed partway. Day to day, it's become the same; avoid the patrols as one stole to make it to the next planet. To the next city.

A six foot togruta is a bit hard to hide among the denizens of the galaxy-one stands out among those sharing her height, and one stands out among her own people. Not impossible, though.

Nirah hasn't seen another Jedi since the Order fell. Not even Shadow Drayen… Shamara.

Hood draped over her montrals, muffled her perception of the area, but it did the job it was meant to; hid her face. Her markings weren't the most distinctive, but there were few of her close clanmates loose in the galaxy, and none shared her other distinctive traits. Not even the Force-sensitivity.

Lucky her.

You know, usually families were pleased to hear that their kid was destined for the Jedi, destined for a greater life. And Nirah was certain hers had been just as pleased. But today? Today, knowing your kid had become a Jedi, and not knowing if they were dead or not… that had to tear at them. It had to hurt.

She knew she'd be mourning a child if she was in her parents' position.

Shaking her head, Nirah strode on, blue eyes keeping a sharp lookout on the nearby area. No use running into another stormtrooper patrol; she'd been hard pressed to keep the last one from looking like they'd located a Jedi (ex-Jedi). Instead, armor dented in with enough force to puncture in places, the patrol had been left with swift, merciful deaths.

Shamara would be proud of her.

Nirah wasn't so sure she was proud of the deaths of men, but in this time, this was kill or be killed. She was not yet ready to die.

Yet she knew this war had been lost a long time ago.

Staff in hand, she let her posture slump a little, leaning on the weapon she had once been proud to carry. Now it marked her as a criminal, a traitor to the state. As a fugitive to be executed on sight. She was no Padawan, had not been such for several years. She would not go quietly.

The people passed her by on the streets with nary a second glance, going about their business. For the majority, a regime change such as this was simply more rules, more regulations to follow, a different uniform in the streets. A few feared, a few rose in rebellion, and the latter were quickly quashed.

She could imagine this city as it was in the final days of the Republic. It wasn't on the front lines, wasn't war torn and scarred, but it had seen combat.

-Nirah recognised these streets. These alleys. She'd had to intercept what was practically a tiny army of battle droids as the Separatists marched them into the city. If she closed her eyes, she could recall what happened. Nirah had no desire to do such.

Lost in her recollections, her wanderings came to a stop, back leaning against a wall as her gaze fixed on nothing in particular.

"Funny, isn't it. We hadn't given up then, and now look where we are."

The voice jolted her back to the here and now, and there was something heartachingly familiar about the sound of it. The cadence was wrong-no, no, that wasn't…..

A tiny, lithe frame slides off a pile of crates, landing soundlessly. "I'm surprised you came back."

"I'm just passing through. Shae, what… what happened?"

There was nothing left of the air Shamara used to use, of the confident, almost cocky sway to her hips. It wasn't that deadly grace Nirah had become accustomed to seeing. This? This looked defeated.

"The Empire happened." She shrugged, stepping out where Nirah could actually see her.

The familiar patterns of her lover's tattoos were still here, she could count them without thinking. But there were changes, too-a ragged, still-healing scar ran the height of her face, narrowly missing an eye. Familiar dark hair had been hacked off, ragged strands floated around stone-cold features.

"You're never supposed to admit it when you give up." started the mirialan, a bitter twist to her lips, " but here we are, we're all just walking around pretending we still have a chance to fight the Empire. The Jedi are dead. The Republic died long before we did. We're just… we're waiting for our own to come calling."

"You've changed. And yet you're still kicking. Something tells me you haven't given up quite as fully as you claim to."