Lynnori Cruz
S̸a̢int

noun; not death, not suicide; simply ceasing to exist in a way that is painful to others.
Orto Plutonia, Some Capital City, The Streets, EveningLust For Life | Interacting with [member="Kole Harper"] ~ All I Want ~ "All I want is nothing more to hear you knocking at my door."
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This planet was fething cold.
That much was clear to Lyn as she was swaddled in dark fur, a coat of mink that seemed a bit too expensive for her tastes, but it served the purpose of keeping the Zeltron warm. The reasons they had travelled to this cursed planet-- Literally, Pantora was right next door, and far warmer than this --were again lost on her. Work, right. Who in sithspit would have worked out here? And doing what, building snowmen? Maybe they'd have to cart ice. Either way, a shiver ran through the Zeltron and she pulled the coat around her thin form a little tighter.
She'd slowed to watch the snow. Kole was only a foot or two away, still visible between the flurries. His dark head of short head stuck out like a sore thumb in the relatively white-caked street and definitely stuck out among the blue denizens of the street that seemed terribly barren. The sight brought a smile to her despite the lack of privacy, a small one, but one all the same. Zeltros had been a week or so ago, but it felt like yesterday. And that didn't hurt. Actually, it made her happy, imagine that.
Snow like this didn't happen on Zeltros. Her homeworld was too tropical for things like that, but despite the bone-chilling freezing temperatures, she didn't mind it. A gloved hand reached out, a few white flakes landing there before melting into dew that rolled off the leather surface. Temporary. That didn't sit right with her.
This was temporary, too, unless she made it permanent. Her stride elongated, in an effort to catch up to the man up ahead.
"Hey, Kole. I think we nee--"
A crack like thunder.
The lights turned off.
Those who had been out now ran, scared, ducking for cover. The obvious reactions to a shooter in public. Blue and pink and red, far too much red, intermingled with the snowy street. A clean round through the base of her neck, and she had been dead in seconds. Almost entirely painlessly, the last sound in her ears was the dull 'thwacking' of her own spine folding under the weight of a slug.
Lynnori Cruz was dead. Just like that. Temporary. In an instant. Gone.