Felacatian
Interacting with:
Veyran Solis
The ruins on the edge of Jutrand smelled of ash and rust. The Felacatian Acolyte padded low among the broken stone, her boots quietly stalking over the dirt as her ears swiveled toward the faintest sounds. She let the Force sink into her bones, guiding her like a second set of instincts layered atop her own. Shadows of motion, trails of presence that was faint, but there.
A scrap of leather caught her eye, half buried under rubble. She crouched, lifting it with two fingers. She lifted it, studying it as a Darkseeker would, her lips pulling back from her teeth as she breathed in deep.
She wasn't sure who this belonged to. But the scent was fresh, not old. As if it had been dropped not an hour ago.
The ink stirred against her skin, alive with interest, and a low chuff rumbled in her throat. If his scent lingered here, then he wasn't far. She could track him. Stalk him. See what he was hiding among the ruins.
Her pupils narrowed to slits as she slipped forward, body low, the hunt begun.