Irella Toldreyn
Thornless Rose

diablerie, noun; reckless mischief, charismatic wildness, deals with the devil.
Nar Shaddaa, The Red Light Sector, A Particularly Unsavory Corner Of It, TwilightHell Hath No Fury-- | Interacting with [member="Aryn Teth"] ~ Arsonist's Lullabye ~ "When I was a child, I heard voices."
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Isn't there something just magical about returning home.
Except when it was the Smuggler's Moon, apparently. Irella had a certain relationship with the rock that had been her playground since she could pickpocket, long before the Praxeum had put a blade in her hands, but this time when she had stepped off the port of her stowaway ride and faced the intense landscape of Nar Shaddaa the rogue Healer found herself not so happy about it. Perhaps the serenity of her sabbatical, and the relative ironic peacefulness of her encounter with the dar'manda [member=Rohak Vizsla] on some estranged planet she couldn't bother to recall, and the nightmarish experience with the other Vizsla that brought a scowl to her face to even recall had left her with an ire for this place that she should have cultivated long ago.
No matter. She was home, and home meant a hustle. The jacketed figure leaned against the wall of a familiar cafe, kicked a leg up against it. Her 'corner', if you would. Waiting for those who knew her to find her.
The locals of Red Light knew Irella's face well, knew her kindly demeanour and knew of her gifts in fixing unfixable people. They called them miracles; she called it the Force; they paid either way for her services to repair body, mind, soul. Nobody turned up a nose to a skill like saving lives, nobody questioned where it came from, and nobody bothered to bring it to the attention of those who might exploit or harm her for it. Well, then again, there had been the Chasm, her reasoning for being included in it's fights still lost on her. Maybe a friend had ratted, persuaded the fight's leadership of how a former Praxeum member would have made excellent bloodsport.
Thinking of it yet again made a flinch pass through Irella as she glanced down at the palm of her hand, fingertips brushing over the scars still healing there. Despite pouring her efforts into it, they had yet to fade entirely, gory scraps from her tooth-and-nail escape from that hellish fighting den alongside Ronan. No, nothing had compared to that, the savagery of man, the distrust between two people forced on the same side. Well, 'forced' -- She still suspected even now he really would have cut her throat and not lose a second of sleep, so it had been more like she had simply shadowed him and avoided that mad dog's wrath by the skin of her teeth. A wistful exhale left her, white puffs in the surprisingly cool night. Quite a few moments ticked on by, the neon of the district lit the sky crimson, a light sprinkle of rain started to fall and the blonde tugged a hood up, memories lost. Nobody stopped to seek a Healer's touch.
Would it be a hungry night if no one came by? Yes, indeed, maybe, perhaps. Irella's stomach groaned protest. The near-Human sighed and bit the inside of her cheek hard.