| E V E R L I G H T |
| CORUSCANT |
Tag:
Naivia Neryn
(Good tunes btw, friend.)
_________________________________________________________
She never expected to be noticed.
Mostly, because her people were typically interchangeable. It was an unintended defense mechanism. How often had she been mistaken for one of her sisters? Had they been mistaken for her?
Too many to count.
The pale-skinned woman came from a long line of ethereal Echani whom all held the same general features. She could not consider herself prominent or striking when she was little more than a genetic copy of her mother, her grandmother, and every female ancestor that had come before her. It was a laughably long line of unoriginal DNA strung together by Arkanian scientists. She internally snorted at the thought. The pinnacle of evolution, indeed.
Nigh invisible hair on the back of her neck began to rise when she realized that someone was paying a little more attention to her presence than the typical party-sprite. Catching the eye of Everlight staff (
Butcher) would have vaguely made more sense…But even then, only barely. With the intent of "
fitting in" Srina forced herself to remain unmoved, save, for the potential of a disagreeable element that might take exception to a former member of the Confederacy sullying their perfect, faultless, Coruscanti streets. There were plenty of other patrons that looked far more approachable than she did. To that end—She remained where she was. Who, she currently was.
A lone creature waiting for something that none were the wiser.
It was a curious thing. If she would have known that someone (
Estrella Io) just wanted a photo-op with her, versus, trying to kill her…She wouldn't have been able to say which thing left her more disturbed. Srina was quite possibly the most
uninteresting thing in Everlight.
At least, she thought so.
Her head raised momentarily from the bar when telltale sounds of commotion drew an unflinching gaze back toward the interest. A scuffle so soon? Metallic eyes seemed to squint just slightly at the number of Mandalorians that had managed to weave their way through the crowd. They were
terribly easy to spot. With or without the bucket. Still…It was the ill-mannered Devaronian (
Reave
) that first caused a scene. Interesting. At least, until Everlight staff (
Horus Rhyne
) stepped in.
A pity, really.
The bartender returned with the water she'd requested. Regardless the lack of alcohol it was served in an elegant cocktail glass, iced, with a slice of lemon nestled over the rim. There was even a stick of fruit resting neatly on top. She paid with a swipe of the device on her wrist and left a tip that would probably cause staff to blink several times in confusion. It wasn't that Srina was overly generous. She simply didn't know what was appropriate—And made a (
potentially incorrect) assumption.
It hadn't even occurred to her that the cover fee probably
included her drinks and entertainment.
"Do you mind if I take the seat next to you?"
Her shoulders squared for a moment while she gave the newcomer a once over. Her eyes held the emotional capacity of a frozen wasteland. It would feel more like a bird of prey watching something they designed to eat than a chance encounter bar-hopping companion.
"If you wish it…The seat is yours."
The rest of the dialogue that the female (
Naivia Neryn
) shared caused the very edge of her lips to take on the glimmer of an elegant frown. She knew that the population on Coruscant was overwhelmingly human, but, the division between gender? Somehow, the proposed math did not add up.
"If you are not comfortable with men this may be a difficult evening for you. I would suggest modifying your perspective accordingly."
Her response was exceedingly measured. Srina, missed social cues. It was a fact. She knew it. Everyone she knew, knew it. Was this something else that was somehow flying over her head? Moonlit hair glimmered different iridescent colors under the lights and she took a tentative sip of her drink. The water was surprisingly refreshing. There was no aftertaste of fuel, or, the artificial taste of a recycler.
The very specific notion of her timetable drew a raised eyebrow.
"…I will remain until I do not."
The slender woman might have spoken further but her jaw set tight when a Hutt (
Gula the Hutt
) burst in with literal slaves at his/its side. A prickling of anger began to rise behind her sternum and an already distant disposition seemed to become all the more apparent. Rather than simmer and explode as some were want to to, Srina, merely grew colder.
There was
nothing she hated more.