Private Spider Lily

[Mogra'teksa]

location :// NAR SHADDA
local time :// 0217
objective :// RELAXATION
tags: :// Kyrinov
[x][x]

Why was she so tired? The Lethan wondered such a basic question as she finished rinsing herself off in the shower and stepped out onto the mat, collecting a towel to dry off as quickly as she could manage. It often felt as though she never could get the sweat and liquor smell off of her skin quickly enough after a show and tonight as no exception to this. Brief compliments and courtesies were exchanged with the other dancers, some more familiar than others, as Mogra'teksa dressed before her locker, shoved her dancing costume into her duffel bag, and tossed one of her lekku over her shoulder, curling it over her slender neck protectively.

"Maybe next week!" The twi'lek offered over her shoulder in answer; before the back door of the dressing rooms where she grabbed her cropped leather jacket and slipped it on. Another quick glance was offered to herself in the mirror by the door, and when she liked what she saw enough- after some minor touch-ups to her makeup, she threw a shoulder into the door and out into the night she went.

Petrichor filled her senses immediately, earning curses uttered to herself that she had neglected to consider the possibility of rain. A cropped jacket and bralette didn't exactly offer the most protection from the elements, and of course, she had forgotten her umbrella. "So stick close to the overhang and it'll be fine," some attempt at comfort which sounded far more like chide left her with a mild scoff, and quickly when there was a break in the throngs of heavy foot traffic, Mogra'teksa dashed across the street and into the club opposite of the one she had worked for the night.

Early in her career as a dancer, she learned that you never drank in the same club you had worked for the night, especially after just stepping off stage. That was a recipe to get yourself harassed.

Some attention was welcome.

But not when all she wanted to do was relax.

"Teksa! Darling! You've come back so soon!" The cyborg behind the rounded bar shouted loudly over the pulsing slaps of the music, lifting a cybernetic arm to wave in warm greeting and beckon the twi'lek to one of many stools circling the central hub.

Dancers moved in hypnotic sway along either side of the path the twi'lek took, some nodding subtle greetings or flashing winks towards her here and there, all of which were reciprocated. Nar Shadda was cutthroat, especially for workers in their industry, so it was only natural they all look out for one another. Kept eyes on each other. Herd protection, as it were, in a world which so easily could have chewed most them up and spat them out.

Mogra'teksa sat down around the bar and dropped her duffel bag before her, tucking a foot over it to make sure she could feel it. "Heya Voss! I see things here are busy!" She beamed, leaning across the neon-lit bar on her forearms to be heard over the dancing masses of club-goers, and of course, the ever-present music. It rattled in her chest and kicked at her heart, nearly causing her to gasp faintly with each pummeling beat.

Already, the woman working the bar was mixing up the twi'lek's usual drink, nodding along to the rhythm of the swelling music as she did so. "Yeah! You know how it is this time of night! How was the business for you tonight!? Make out like a bandit!?" The cyborg turned her head briefly, winking with a playful stick of her pierced tongue.

"Something like that! I don't have to worry about my travel fees for awhile!" The Sidewinder laughed, finally turning her head to glance around the bar and her immediate surroundings; having to squint against the iridescence of the neon lights and the constant motions swirling about. She didn't see anyone she recognized. Shame.

Looks like she was drinking alone tonight.

 

[Kyrinov]

S E E K​

Location: Nar Shaddaa
Equipment: Dress of Salvation [ X ] | Encrypted Comm Device
Tags: Mogra'teksa

It had been ages since he’d stepped foot on Nar Shaddaa. Under normal conditions, he wouldn’t have. The gigantic moon of Nal Hutta was a criminal hive and underground hive which he was not eager to visit any time soon. The Smuggler’s Moon truly lived up to its name and reputation in every way. Yet, here he was. Chasing the tail of a line of information from his informants about a dancer. He was looking for a young, red Twi’lek dancer that went by Teksa. Force Sensitive and young enough to have a certain degree of wanderlust about her.Thus, the Sith Lord found himself following her trail, wherever that would lead him.

Today, it would lead him into a literal downpour. He called for a droid and opened up a dark blue umbrella and held it above his head, finding momentary relaxation as the rain beat against the material in a rhythm that was foreign to him. Kyrinov wove his way through the streets, reaching out gently with the Force to increase his awareness and perception of the neon bathed concrete at the Promenade.

In truth, he hadn’t slept on the final leg of his journey from the Unknown Regions to the Outer Rim. On top of that, the hour was late. A pull would not allow it, forcing him to remain aware and vigilant. It only increased in intensity the closer he wandered to the eccentric moon. But, time was of the essence here if his legacy would continue beyond himself and he was determined not to let his legacy be tainted by the imprint of his own former Master, wherever the old Kiffar was.

His intel gave him the location where she worked, but at this hour, he wasn’t certain that she would be working. So, logically, he went to the next best place: across the street. Vendors shouted to try and gain his attention and every being that passed gave him odd glances, he was sure that a nearly 8 foot man was an odd sight for this time of night. Holoprojected news and dancers swayed and flashed and even with all of the commotion, he felt the same force urging him across the street when he could finally separate himself from the rushing throng. Everyone seemed to always be in such a rush here.

Kyrinov lowered the umbrella from overhead and closed it, strapping it to his hip underneath the trench coat he wore. Somehow, he convinced himself not to wear armor for once. He gave a half-hearted nod to the bouncer outside and entered the building, immediately bombarded by loud music, light shows, dancers, and a packed dance floor. His face hardened into a scowl and he determined to head towards the least crowded area that he could see, the bar. Once again, he carved a path through the party-goers and scanned the area for any sign, following his gut and letting his feet take him where he needed to be.

Refocusing back on the bar, he suddenly saw her. There was no doubt in his mind that the Twi’lek that sat at the counter was the woman he was looking for, sitting alone and chatting with the cybernetic bartender.

Mogra’teksa.

He cleared his throat and tried not to rush his way to the seat to the left of her. “Mind if I take this seat?” However redundant the thought the question, it was best to start things off lighthearted and polite even if he didn’t necessarily look the part. He waited for her to answer before taking a seat, realizing just how far he walked to get here as his knees gave a slight burn and his back sighed in relief as he got a brief reprieve. A reminder that he wasn’t getting any younger. A reminder of the importance of gaining the dancer’s favor.

Kyrinov glanced briefly to the barkeep. “Four vials of Raava, if you’ve got it.” Eyes the color of steel found her again. She appeared to be soaked, meaning that she likely didn’t have anything to protect herself from rain. Or that she ran her from work. Perhaps she simply wasn’t expecting the fall to be in the forecast for the day. The Sith gave her a brief and genuine smile. Her presence within the Force screamed at him, large and untamed, and it told him the rest of what he needed to know in the moment. “You’re Mogra’teksa, right? I’ve heard many things about you. All of the correct attention exactly when you’d like it to be spread.”

​

 

[Mogra'teksa]

location :// NAR SHADDA
local time :// REDLIGHT HOURS
objective :// RELAXATION
tags: :// Kyrinov
[x][x]

"Aye, comin' up, hotshot." Voss flashed a toothy grin at the man, though as she turned, she side-eyed Mogs in some passing caution.

The settle of the gentleman beside her caught her attention and it was with a turn of her head that she nodded and acknowledged his presence with a warm, nigh disarming smile. Had she known more about what she was capable of sensing, perhaps she would have recognized that niggling tug at the back of her mind alerting her to the ocean of prowess within the towering man's frame. Yet, if she was surprised by this, she did not outwardly express it. There was a level of external control one had to master to succeed as one of many centers of attention, and being suspended in a gold-plaited cage or pedestaled by an eight foot amplifier by a raving stage had steeled her in this capacity.

“You’re Mogra’teksa, right? I’ve heard many things about you. All of the correct attention exactly when you’d like it to be spread.”

Tattooed brows raised to his words and her smile only reached further, blooming across her face with playful mirth. "So I am," she hummed, sipping from her cocktail in passing, "I do hope you haven't been looking for me for too long, the weather is absolutely brutal out there." The twi'lek glanced down towards his umbrella, shifting her left leg to hold her bag more securely between her feet in subtle motion as she engaged with this stranger. "Of course, you came far more prepared than I did, it seems." A melodic chuckle echoed from her, slipping between her lips in velvet chord, "So!" Now, the lethan swiveled herself on her stool, facing him more directly, "Now that I've caught your attention, how can I help you?"​

 

[Kyrinov]

S E E K​

Location: Nar Shaddaa
Equipment: Dress of Salvation [ X ] | Encrypted Comm Device
Tags: Mogra'teksa

A touch of wicked, a pinch of risky​

His smile widened in spite of himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement just at the base of his vision and his expression softened only slightly. “I haven’t been looking too long, no, but the rain did slow me some,” followed by “I won’t be stealing from you or trying any moves, I can promise you that. And I hardly believe you’ll have a reason to need to defend yourself. Though, I understand, Nar Shaddaa is cruel and cutthroat.”

“A moment of weakness means tempting and inviting danger and death at the blink of an eye. But, I’m certain you know this, of course.” He nodded to the bartender as she brought out his drinks. He reclined slightly and grabbed one, downing the black bottle and carefully screwing the top back on, feeling his body warm and tingle softly. The man hadn’t had a decent drink in some time. Missions, paperwork, and strategic planning dominated his reality so that he scarcely knew what relaxation meant anymore.

“I believe this is about what I can do to help you, Mogra’teksa.” Another vial of cool liquid ran down his throat and he sighed. He would need to play his cards right, but this was a worthwhile gamble. If his instincts were correct and the Force had indeed communicated and orchestrated their meeting, it would be worth her time as well.

“I have a proposal.” He had her ear now, best not to beat around the bush. “You’re Force sensitive. I have a feeling that you know this, to some extent. If not, then you know now. That’s what brought me to you, here.” Kyrinov paused and chose his next words carefully. “You have potential for power and I wish to train you to use it as best as you can. You could come with me and stop being entertainment for the fantasies of others. You are more than welcome to refuse and stay if you wish.”

Something strange in his eyes flashed in the neon lights of the club. He thought of it as intrigue.

Fascination.

“But, your fate is in your hands.”

​

 

[Mogra'teksa]

location :// NAR SHADDA
local time :// REDLIGHT HOURS
objective :// RELAXATION
tags: :// Kyrinov
[x][x]

The lethan listened to his proposition and the honeyed words he extended it upon, forming a silver platter she was skeptical about reaching to take from. This wasn't the first time someone approached her offering an escape, or get away from her life as a dancer- as if such a thing was looked down upon. It always stung a little bit when she realized people likely thought she was more of an exotic dancer than the crowd-hyping go-go dancer she had been for years. Provided... there was some truth to those words, but it still wasn't exactly something she appreciated being talked down to about. Naturally golden eyes narrowed a touch, hinting at her healthy skepticism.

She was Force Sensitive?

Is that what that feeling tugging at the back of her mind was?

She had known to some degree that she had some power and sway over the world with The Force, yet it was only ever in times of distress or emotion that she was able to use it. Or that she had used it, rather. She recalled quickly a mercenary job not too long ago where her partner for the task had suffered a blaster shot to the stomach, and the resulting anger had lent her the strength to blast their targets away with a gale of wind so powerful it had hurled them from the rocky cliffside the lot of them had claimed. Or the time when she was much younger that she had been snatched from her family by another twi'lek and it was a powerful scream with unwittingly psionic effects which had saved her and allowed her to run back to her family home.

What about the time she saw-

Mogs shook her head faintly, clearing that glossy glint from her eye before it could glaze over and her memories could draw her into a rabbit hole and away from the now. It was rather obvious she had been reminiscing all the same, though, and this realization bloomed a darker hue in her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. Painted lips snared her straw and she took another draw of her drink in the absence of input for the sake of consideration.

"Now, you have my attention, but before I take what you say to me as truth, who are you? Tell me about yourself." Came her answer, at last, delivered with the knit of her brows and the piercing of her enchantingly golden gaze.​