The message had been unexpected to say the least. A phantom ping sent to her personal comm unit, the information contained within sparse and unassuming. It was an invitation of sorts, meant to entice the Knight of Ren out to Tamenen in search of information. And so she found herself cramped into an old, repainted TIE fighter with her closest ally and friend [member="Kaalia Voldaren"] and her fighter pilot, [member="Ishana Pavanos"] .
The two had met at a bar known as the Jumping Rocket, if her memory served her correctly. Ara had unwittingly introduced the two when the opportunity to push the woman together had presented itself. Surprisingly, the woman had hit it off and Ara couldn’t help the smug smile that tugged at the corners of her lips as she cracked an eyelid to watch them from the back of the cramped cockpit.
She’d never enjoy flying and such close quarters made the sensation of struggling to breathe exponentially worse. The pilot mentioned something about keeping their valuables close and avoiding eye contact, the knight smiled wickedly and opened her eyes fully. Having been raised in a very similar hive of scoundrels and unsavory characters, the same rules applying regardless of what sector of the galaxy they seemed to be in. Her eyes flashed red for a moment as pride overrode anxiety. Mentally she dared anyone to try and relieve her of her saber. It was the only thing of value on her person, the curved and carved hilt hanging from a leather belt. The rest of her ensemble was simple and functional, black pants and boots, maroon shirt and black vest. Her red and black cape rested on her shoulders, the fabric draping over her lap and hiding all signs of color from her seated position.
”Don't do anything I wouldn’t do.”
The teasing comment, paired with a wink towards Kaalia, was slightly rougher than normal, thanks to the rough landing and her own fear. As soon as she possibly could disembark she did, her hands already moving to the datapad and the message it contained. The coordinates for a rendezvous appeared on screen and without more than a nod towards the pair she set off.
The wind whipped up her cloak as she crossed the busy spaceport, heading further into the city. Her looks had already garnered her attention, but even more so now that the corruption of the dark side had permanently changed a ring around her eyes to a sickly shade of yellow and amber. The determined, no-nonsense expression coupled with the eerie glow of someone intimately acquainted with the darker side of the force, meant she passed relatively unquestioned, even in this rough of a town.
Clinching her hands into a fist, one eye twitched, the only outward sign of the injures she’d suffered during the invasion of Mustafar. Her arms and forearms had been damaged heavily in the ceiling collapse, a few light scars covering the otherwise smooth skin, the muscles still sore from stiffness. Spending hours every day sparring and exercising, she was pleased that she was almost back up to her full speed and dexterity. Her endurance was another matter, the knight making a mental note to add daily runs to her morning routine, lungs having been heavily damaged when she’d lost her mask and had to endure the acrid atmosphere of the planet longer than she should have.
Focusing on her wounds was one way to keep her mind off the real problems troubling her, the reason she’d even agreed to come to this meeting in the first place. The message had been direct and simple, a time a place and a name: Sarlow Zambrano. The name meant little to nothing to her, but the accompanying file did. A genetic panel that matched their two names. It was enough to bring the knight to the ends of the galaxy, because it only meant one thing.
