Matsu Xiangu
The Haruspex
Matsu was a study in dichotomies. Raised in relative luxury and with loving, kind parents, she had never known hardship. Pain beyond a scraped knee or a sprained finger was foreign to her. She made friends easily – she was disgustingly charming and had always been a pretty child, one that had flowered in to a beautiful woman. But despite the path that should have nurtured her to a prominent position in a family full of tradition…it just hadn’t gone that way. It was her choice. She was too cruel, too strangely and naturally predatory to follow in the same footsteps as her parents before her. She hunted.
She struck out on her own, bargaining passage on freighter after freighter, visiting worlds at random and with no intent in mind. She learned where she could, accepting lessons in combat, engineering, and even…the Force. She had always credited her fortune to luck but as time passed and she met more beings she learned that her “luck” was actually a gift far more incredible.
But that was where it remained, her skills in the Force powerful but rudimentary. All she could do had been learned on her own and she assumed there were those out there who could help her channel her skills, though she was yet to find them. All in good time – she felt in no rush. Like a snake basking in the afternoon sun Matsu was unhurried. Something to be cautious of, but otherwise yes…unhurried.
She walked through the bazaar on Ryloth as if she had grown up among its dusty streets and crowded atmosphere. She was at home in the chaos, felt she could just as easily disappear as (blow this street to pieces, destroy them, lay waste and never look back like the flood, like the beast, like the natural force of balance, you’re made to destroy) make something of herself. She flipped up on to a crumbling wall, walking alternately on her hands and then back to her feet in some exercise to keep herself fit. It was an obsession.
It was then she spotted the Bothan, although she didn’t know that’s what the species was called. She had never seen the like and was intrigued. Her path along the wall was bringing her close to him and when she was even she flipped off her hands and took a seat on the wall, crossing her legs primly and resting her chin delicately on a folded hand, sharply pointed nails glinting in the harsh Ryloth sun. “That’s a handsome mane you’ve got, stranger,” she offered, her voice like honey with an underlying rasp.
[member="Varesk Fey'lya"]
She struck out on her own, bargaining passage on freighter after freighter, visiting worlds at random and with no intent in mind. She learned where she could, accepting lessons in combat, engineering, and even…the Force. She had always credited her fortune to luck but as time passed and she met more beings she learned that her “luck” was actually a gift far more incredible.
But that was where it remained, her skills in the Force powerful but rudimentary. All she could do had been learned on her own and she assumed there were those out there who could help her channel her skills, though she was yet to find them. All in good time – she felt in no rush. Like a snake basking in the afternoon sun Matsu was unhurried. Something to be cautious of, but otherwise yes…unhurried.
She walked through the bazaar on Ryloth as if she had grown up among its dusty streets and crowded atmosphere. She was at home in the chaos, felt she could just as easily disappear as (blow this street to pieces, destroy them, lay waste and never look back like the flood, like the beast, like the natural force of balance, you’re made to destroy) make something of herself. She flipped up on to a crumbling wall, walking alternately on her hands and then back to her feet in some exercise to keep herself fit. It was an obsession.
It was then she spotted the Bothan, although she didn’t know that’s what the species was called. She had never seen the like and was intrigued. Her path along the wall was bringing her close to him and when she was even she flipped off her hands and took a seat on the wall, crossing her legs primly and resting her chin delicately on a folded hand, sharply pointed nails glinting in the harsh Ryloth sun. “That’s a handsome mane you’ve got, stranger,” she offered, her voice like honey with an underlying rasp.
[member="Varesk Fey'lya"]