[hider=Kitah'ra Vanos] [img]http://i1383.photobucket.com/albums/ah307/abdonovan12/kit1_zps3crn6otc.jpg[/img][/hider]


A sharp clank woke Kitah'ra from a deep sleep.  As her eyes shot open, she bolted up to see a small creature attempting to drag her helmet away.  This was nearly every morning, it seemed.  If she couldn't find a better place to sleep, she would end up killing everyone in this disgusting city.  Pulling her cane from the backpack next to her makeshift bed, she swung, sharply striking the tiny squeaker, causing it to fly through the door of the tiny hut.

"Stupid mongrels...", she grumbled, flipping her helmet up and onto her head.  She flipped the switch, powering up the speaker system and rangefinder, and rose from her bed.  Her body was sore, more than she had ever been.  The city was in a state of panic, and she couldn't quite put her finger on why.  However, the citizens were definitely on edge, and violent.  Stealing was difficult.  Simply scavenging for broken things was difficult.  Groaning, and attempting to scrape some dried blood from her chest plate, Kit threw her backpack onto her back and stepped out of her hut into the busy street.

The people of the city still gave her wide birth.  They weren't afraid of her, but they were still weary.  Around here, you couldn't tell which Mandalorians were actually from Mandalore, and which were bounty hunters, disgracefully wearing the armor to cover their identity.  As she reached the entrance of the Jedi temple, she smiled from beneath her helmet, walking up the small steps, and taking a seat beside an extremely old man.

"Good morning Yomi.", she spoke through her speaker system, causing the old man to raise his head slowly.

"Kitah'ra...what have I told you about that silly mask.", he spoke softly to her, his cane clanking roughly against her cheek.  Kit smiled once more and flipped the switch, before pulling the helmet from her head, and sitting it on the floor, "You're more than the sum of your parts.  You remember what that means?"

"Yes, sir.  But my armor is a part of who I am."

"No.  Your armor is a reminder of who you were forced to become.  When one gets a second chance at living, and doesn't take that chance to re-evaluate their values, they become lost.  The force is all around you.  It protects you, much more than this hunk of metal you depend on.", Yomi explained, once again tapping on her armor.  This time it was her chest.

"Maybe one day I can see things that way, Yomi...but I'm not ready."

"You'll never be ready until you admit that you have more to you, than a bunch of metal, and blasters.  Not everything can be answered by the end of a Westar, you know.  The force.  It's a powerful tool.  It's a powerful teacher.  Why do you fight what is all around you, especially here, in this sacred place?", Yomi continued, repeating himself.

"I'm not fighting anything.  The Force is your religion...and I respect that, but..."

"No religion.  Never a religion.  The force is more than that.  To some, a religion.  To me...it is everything.  I am the force.  You are the force.  The ground is the force.  The wind.  Everything...", Yomi waved his arms around, and then placed a single finger on Kit's chest, his face twisting into a sweet smile, "The force is in here."

"I'm not force sensitive, or whatever.  I just came to have lunch with you, Yomi.", Kit groaned, attempting to quiet him, without offending.

"I am one with the force..."

"And the force is with me.", Kit finished, a smile cracking her own sullen face.  Yomi grinned widely, as if he felt he had gotten through to her in some way.  He stood with some effort, patting her softly on the cheek, and disappeared into the temple to gather food.  Kit simply sighed, leaning against the wall.  Did she believe in all of this?  Was the temple even worth saving, or protecting?  Was there a chance for her to pull Yomi from this place?  Probably not.  Saying the Force wasn't a religion was like saying the Empire had the people's interest at heart.  She scoffed, as she watched the bustle of the people in the street.