Throwdown on the Dance Floor

[Vaylin]

Zeltros​

Club Blush​

​

Vaylin would've laughed if you had told her she'd eventually find herself in a nightclub. Especially as a means to try and unwind. The Zabrak had tried several times to try and do so, the latest having took her to Dantooine to simply find some peace and quiet. That didn't turn out as expected, but taking down a wannabe cult as fun in itself. But it did nothing in trying to help her unwind, which ultimately led her to randomly browsing the HoloNet for something. Low and behold, Vaylin stumbled across an advertisement for Blush and something clicked.

Or rather, it was more of 'eh what the hell, why not?' Though it was also a planet she had yet to explore for herself, so that was a plus - hopefully. With a plan in mind, the Zabrak set course for Zeltros.

Upon arriving she discovered something she wasn't expecting, that being the amount of pheromones that were in the air. The last time she had been surrounded by something similiar was back on Dxun, and that wasn't exactly the greatest subject to be constantly reminded of. Nonetheless she persevered and trekked on through the Indigo District and to the club itself. It was immediately apparent it was a rough area but the Zabrak couldn't help but compare it to Katarr. In which case, it paled in comparison but shared many shades of the same darkness that lingered around corners and down alleyways.

Once she was in Blush, only then did Vaylin finally manage to settle, taking up a seat the bar on the Second Floor. She was dressed rather casually; not really one for dresses, instead preferring a shirt and trousers. It was fairly similiar to how she looked during her time on the Technicolor Beat, which was quite relevant to her current situation. That night had provided lessons the Zabrak hadn't experienced before, namely involving the consumption of alcohol. While she hadn't since made a habit to drink a lot more, it provided a value piece of knowledge to manage how much she drank, well unless she intended to get blackout drunk.

She let out a threatening growl as a male patron tried to saddle up beside her. The message seemed to get across quickly, as he was swiftly turning tail away from her. And it hadn't been the first time either, constantly both men and women had approached her. Each time she had dismissed them, with a glare, growl or just flipping them off. She was not in the mood to unwind like that tonight, no matter how much the lingering pheromones were trying to pull her. To Vaylin, they were like having an itching sensation buried under her skin - impossible to get at no matter what she did.

The obvious solution was to leave, but that would be admitting defeat, and that's just not something Vaylin did.

[member="The Slave"]​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave meandered through the crowd in a less than sober state; the faint smell of spice drifting off his clothes as he carefully maneuvered his path as to not spill his poor drink. As he made it to the stairs, the guards there simply let him pass; what with him being a major business partner now with Blush itself, and his personal relations with the owner.

A faint smile drifted on his lips as he watched the calmer second story move about in its usual hesitance, one that cried ‘sexual deviancy’ in every dark corner, something one could see with even a passive glance to the various groups. From girls and guys necking in booths, to the occasional groping of a waitress who let it happen for tips, something about it all spoke to him in ways no where else seemed to.

Well, except his ship.

Yet, even despite the thick cloud of pheromones and promiscuity in the air, there was a different smell that drew him from the easily manipulatable crowds to something more fierce. An energy that took him back just like many times before, but a faint familiarness to it that he couldn’t quite place. As golden orbs maneuvered through the various people, he finally saw her; a well formed Zabrak sitting at the bar with neither seat beside her taken.

Oh how could this do?, he playfully thought to himself.

I should keep her company.

And so he made his way towards where she sat, letting his hand move to rest with a faint pressure against her left haunch while he stood on her right. He spoke quickly, an obvious coy flirtation in his voice as the words rang out;

“Haven’t seen you around in a while, Missy.”

│ @Vaylin │

 

[Vaylin]

She had her glass mid-swig when she felt a presence nearing her again. Vaylin practically growled against the rim of the glass as it became apparent the person wasn't intending to stop. Part of her thought; hoped that they were simply stopping at the bar for a drink themselves. But no, there was something in the air that made it clear the one approaching had eyes only for her right now.

Vaylin placed her glass down calmly, a false pretence to the seething annoyance within.

There was no movement of the head, but she could see from the corner of her eyes as a pale figure neared.

The Zabrak opened her mouth to speak - or to growl rather, but was startled from the action when she felt the presence of a hand against her backside.

...

Her eyes snapping to the left and glared at The Slave. But it was almost immediately followed by a frown as she recognized the face, somewhat at the least. As she turned her head, Vaylin reached and grabbed the man's hand, wrapping her fingers around his wrist and deliberately applying too much pressure than necessary to pry it away.

His flirtation tone did nothing to lessen the fire that simmered. And unfortunately for him it wasn't the type of fire he was likely looking for.

"Who the chit are you?" She asked, her tone hiding none of the indignation in her voice. Though in more of The Slave's favour, Vaylin's curiosity was trumping everything else at that moment. He had greeted her as though he knew her, or had seen her. And yet he was mostly a mystery to her.

[member="The Slave"]​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

He didn’t resist her hand as much as she might have thought, instead rolling with the momentum to lean on the counter next to her, taking his free hand and sipping from her drink. After setting it down, he offered her a faint grin before giving a slightly vague answer;

“Our masters were friends. Before I was sold, that is.”

He chuckled, as the room continued its rampant noise, each of the party goers more interested in their own decadent festivities than the beginning embers of a possible fire; no matter who was involved. Still, while they ignored what was happening, The Slave himself didn’t seem to mind the heat she gave off; not physically, nor emotionally. There was a faint heat of his own that came off in droves, one that even the Zabrak Vaylin would notice, no matter how annoyed she might be.

It was an abysmal energy, one that showed signs of corruption far past his obvious prowess. Although his face failed to show how far the Dark Side was taking him, what he gave off wasn’t just the mild discomfort of those who sought power for themselves, but of something far more surreal. A predatory, murderous energy that dripped from his lips and steamed off the floor; intoxicating and debilitating all at once.

What she witnessed wasn’t a man that might have known her, but a wrathful spirit focused on its prey; no matter how flirtatious he seemed.

│ @Vaylin │

 

[Vaylin]

Vaylin's frown did not wane, and her curiosity began to mingle with confusion.

He referred to our masters and she could only assume he in part meant [member="Aria Vale"], but then who had his been?

The Zabrak thought on it, her amber eyes still centered on The Slave; each like small infernos glaring at him. Then the answer finally clicked, [member="Darth Imperia"] was the man's master - or former it seemed. Vaylin recalled Aria speaking of the woman a few times, but the way in which she spoke of her didn't seem just friends as The Slave put it. But it did finally answer the question of his identity.

"So that means you're 'The Slave'." She said, an eyebrow arching slightly in reaction.

He was the one that owned the Technicolor Beat, and distinctly remembered a conversation she had with her master when she had queried about whose ship they were going to be heading too. It took a bit for the Zabrak to believe someone would actually go on with the name The Slave of all things.

And now the man himself was before her, the latest irksome bug that had approached her tonight. But there was something different as she looked upon him. Unlike the others that came before; inebriated on drink, drugs and pheromones, he had his own fire that lingered within.

They were two seperate flames, sitting at opposites sides. And she recognized the look he held, the presence he exuded. That of a predator in a concrete jungle.

It was only a matter of what followed. Would the embers reach out and naturally create an inferno. Or would someone poke the other's fire, and ignite the fury.

[member="The Slave"]​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“It means I might be.”, he said with a chuckle.

“At least, that's what they call me.”, he began to muse.

There was momentary pause as he lit a cigar and blew spice filled smoke away from them both. Molten eyes turned back to her with an intense heat as they spoke, and each orb seemed to offer its own sensation of pressure against her skin. The same darkness she felt moments before spread wider, a rolling smoke on the water that was the force around them. It threatened to drown her, drag her deeper than she was willing to go.

It ran across her skin, dragging invisible fingers were exposed; not in the same way he had just grasped her, but one of something more hungering. Endless and wrathful, the ever encompassing sensation of a deer in headlights; but would she remain and be the deer? Woulds he allow herself to be splattered across its proverbial skin and worn like the dog it intended to treat her?

The thoughts passed with a hesitant step, only to return to the crooked grin The Slave held.

“Wouldn’t want to get out of here with me, would you?”

│ @Vaylin │

 

[Vaylin]

Her eyes locked onto his; amber to amber, and Vaylin couldn't help but stare - unable to look away.

Vaylin's nose wrinkled at the smell of the smoke, emanating from The Slave's lips and lingered up into the air with the rest. The sheer presence the man exuded without pause, washing over her. It was like nails digging into her skin, crawling across it like with a hunger of a starved animal.

Teasing her like a piece of meat, toying with its food.

It sang to Vaylin, calling forth her bestial nature she and Aria hadworked towards keeping under control. And it was alluring, enticing even on any other day.

But that was not today.

Instead all it reminded her was of Athiss. The fingers against her skin reminding her of the Sith spirit that tried to possess her. The drowning sensation a reminder of the lesson Sumiko had thrown her into.

Vaylin finally managed to look away, occupying herself with picking up her glass and taking a sip. A grimace was hidden beneath it, before the Zabrak made her move.

"Hmm, that would depend..." The glass was placed back down, and she glanced over at The Slave, the slightest of smirks showing. "On what you have in mind."

She turned to face him, shifting her body enticingly. However, as he would go to respond, Vaylin suddenly lurched fowards and delivered a punch straight to his face.

[member="The Slave"]​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

As he moved forward to mirror her seemingly flirtatious behavior, only a single hand found its way to her hip as the smirk he made was broken by two knuckles to the nose. The man known simply as The Slave misstepped back, eyes watering with a soft groan as he recovered.

‘What just happened?’, he thought to himself.

Surely he’d been punched a few times, but few times had they done something so devious, so cruel as to trick him into thinking it worked for even a second. There was something about it that reminded him that he was human, betraying the quietly broken narcissism that dwelled deep in his soul. It enticed him, brought a grin to the proverbial smile in his heart; one that would fester with the dark flames that surrounded them both.

“Okay, that hurt.”, he bubbled out as he messed with his nose, making sure it wasn’t broken.

Blood pooled on his upper lip, slowly finding its way down his face. Somehow, there was a pleasant aesthetic to it, contrasting his faint pale features with a subtle beauty. Golden eyes, alabaster hair, and now crimson lips brought him together like a portrait, a faint beauty to madness that was his unruly nature.

A grin formed on his lips as the crimson ichor stained his ivory teeth. The cruel display was wrought correct by a few simple words, ones that accented the entirety of his disposition with little tremor.

“Bet you can’t do it again.”

│ @Vaylin │

 

[Vaylin]

There was something visceral about that punch, harking back to the more basic instincts when there was no weapon in reach other than your own two fists. It was raw. Flesh striking flesh, potentially breaking bone.

An animalistic grin broke out across Vaylin's face, as she slipped off her seat making it pointedly clear she wasn't going to stop with a single punch. Were this any other time, she might've immediately began swinging - maybe even slammed The Slave's head into the bar to start with if she was still that violent. But now she knew how to get an upper hand, in this instance using the man's flirting against him.

She watched as the blood slipped down his mouth, the Zabrak licked her lips almost invitingly as she fully intended on seeing more of that by the night's end.

By now there were quite a few pairs of eyes watching, but to them they were nothing more than a minor disturbance amongst the pheromone fueled chaos going on around them. To everyone else, it was simply a case of someone getting a bit too handsy than the other liked.

Little did they know this wasn't going to stay as quiet.

"Oh, I'll take that bet." She remarked, throwing a second punch towards his face.

[member="The Slave"]​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The fist whirred through the air with a habitual cockiness that came plentiful with any zabrak, not to say it was misplaced what with their grand size and unruly nature, but today it wasn’t the only thing that dripped off her very being. It was the subtle way her feet moved, the way her tongue slipped across velvet lips, down to the ever so slight twist of her curved hips to throw her punch that gave way to just what she was thinking. The empath that he was, The Slave saw it all, every little drip of emotion that blazed from her eye, every single thought of how asinine she thought he truly was.

Unfortunately, the only thing that turned him on more than her pressed in that tight suit, was the taste of his own blood running across his taste buds.

Years of mandingo fighting in slave pits gave him somewhat of a chance, despite no formal training. There was a reason he had survived thus far without losing an eye, little amount of scars to his face, and still had both ears; it was because he knew how to defend himself, how to deal damage, and take down an opponent. She would be no different, but maybe he’d try and slip in a kiss or two just to make sure she knew he was still interested in her in all the wrong ways.

With the fist closing in, something he already knew was coming by the judge of his taunt, he dipped to the side and brought his hands up in what could only be considered a rather traditional and unrefined boxing stance, hands brought up to defend himself on either side. As the fist missed, he brought his own strike to her head.

It was a brutal strike, one that matched a kick meant for the head. The entirety of his weight came full bore as he let his arm bend only slightly and race towards her neck; letting the hard bone of his forearm become the edge to the blunt blade that was his powerful strike. Should it land, it’d knock her silly; if not completely off her feet. Afterall, he might look slim, but he was nearly two hundred pounds, and almost all of it came straight through that strike.

│ @Vaylin │

 

[Vaylin]

The Slave was not the only one who had learned to fight through unorthodox means. Vaylin had gone through a childhood buried beneath her mother's tyrannical parenting. Forced into learning how to fight for the sake of family and territory. Then there was a lapse as that training fell into the hands of the Jedi; stifled amongst patience and restraint. Fine lessons in of themselves, but they never allowed the Zabrak to simply unleash her fury, not until she was trapped on Dxun.

That was when she learned how to adapt to an opponent that could either change their attack at the slightest moment, or lunge fowards with a single minded agenda.

To Vaylin, that's just what The Slave was in this moment. Another beast, albeit one she was certain was not single-minded. Well, mostly.

With her second punch being blocked, the Zabrak immediately stepped back and brought her arms up. Her eyes fixed to the man's arm as it came swinging towards her. There was no indication to her, she didn't not recognize the stance and as such had no idea of what strength was behind the incoming blow.

So rather than bringing a palm up to catch it, she brought her own forearm to block The Slave's, placing her other arm behind to bolster the defence. As his blow hit, Vaylin was pushed back ever slightly, her footing slipping a bit. She had blocked it, but the strength behind it was not what she expected. She could feel the muscles there; hidden beneath her shirt sleeve, ache in the wake of the impact. There was no doubt in her mind that there would be a hefty bruise there soon.

But Vaylin was not one to stay stationary in a fight, and as such a moment after blocking she pushed The Slave's arm away and immediately moved in for a quick flurry aimed for his stomach. Hands clenched into fists, she went in for several moderate blows if they managed to hit. Although there was a slight deviance in her left arm; a bit more slower due to the soreness she was now feeling there.

[member="The Slave"]​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave grinned wildly, a rabid emotion bolstering his adrenaline as the fight moved into its initial phases. As Vaylin was moved from her once balanced stance, he took a hesitant second to savor the moment, the aching joy of his attempted decapitation to rush towards his heart and soul before being interrupted by what he could only consider a rude insult to him and his actions.

One, two, three quick strikes landed on his stomach, nearly buckling him. Dropping down slightly to avoid the next few strikes, he didn’t have time for thought if he wanted to truly stop the onslaught in its track. As a result, his counter attack was swift and defiant, showing her just how much of an animal he could be.

Two hands moved to grasp just behind her ears, ripping her head from its placement in space to meet the top of his skull. The thickest part of his head rushed to meet her nose, while muscles in his back, chest, and arms bolstered the strike. Her nose was the final target, and the force meant for it was easily enough to crumple the weak cartilage if not outright throw her from a standing position entirely.

Maybe he didn’t think it through, but most people didn’t usually attempt to headbutt a Zabrack, considering their horns and all. Still, his intuition and raw talent at least offered him a solid chance at doing some damage, and while the homage often said nobody won in a headbutt; he would be the exception.

Should it land, he’d follow it up by not letting go of her head, as the control he had at the neck would supplement his next strike. With her chance at being disorientated, the muscles used to break her focus the first time would come for a second rush to pull her head down to meet his knee; hoping to end the fight in a near instant. A brutal two hit combo that would drop even the most unruly fighter, if not outright kill them were they not careful.

Not that he was. He was turned on, but not just by her, but by the fight itself. He had a tendency to lose himself in women and blood alike, it would seem.

│ [member="Vaylin"] │

 

[Vaylin]

Even as her blows landed against her opponent's stomach, Vaylin didn't give pause to savour the moment of victory. She had learned that lesson well, that even a wounded beast could still have the potential to bite back. The Zabrak had a number of scars decorating her body as a result of not knowing that initially.

What she wasn't expecting, was for The Slave to suddenly grab ahold of her head. Immediately Vaylin knew what he was going in for, and the unorthodox move confused her for a moment. Typically no one ever headbutted a Zabrak given the attacker was more likely to be worse off depending on the horns.

In that split moment, Vaylin realized the blow was going to strike her nose dead centre. Instead, she roughly twisted her head whilst still in The Slave's grip, forcing his blow to strike the side of her nose instead.

There was a resounding crunch as the blow hit true and broke bone.

Vaylin yelled in pain, it was impossible not to. Her head felt dazed now, and immediately felt the sensation of her head being forced downwards. The Zabrak was too disoriented to try and fight against The Slave's hold, instead she instinctively brought her hands up, intercepting and wrapping around the returning knee, just managing to stop it before it could hit. She could feel her arms shaking, muscles burning in complaint from the blunt impact. Again, she had felt the hidden strength The Slave had beneath his otherwise thin frame.

With the attack's momentum neutered, Vaylin pushed her opponent's knee down and delivered a right hook to his stomach again. However, rather than capitalize on it Vaylin stumbled backwards making enough space between them that neither would be in striking range anymore.

The Zabrak grinned at The Slave, her corrupted eyes staring at him with both fire and hunger. They were two animals fighting one another, mirror images in several respects. Vaylin didn't hesitate as she grabbed a hold of her nose and snapped it back into place. She grimaced in pain, but it was apparent she thrived from it rather than it being a deterrent. The Zabrak smiled, tongue flicking out to lick her lips and clean them of the blood that had poured from her broken nose.

Whereas The Slave had tried to end the fight then and there, Vaylin was the opposite. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins, a hunger had risen from the depths and she wasn't going to let that go unsated. She looked around slightly, noticing they had gathered a crowd now. Plenty of people were still dancing below, with music blasting across the club. The Zabrak was somewhat surprised security hadn't stopped them yet, but she wasn't complaining.

She still needed to escalate the situation.

Without warning, Vaylin charged at The Slave. And whether he was expecting it or not, the Zabrak outright speared him pushing all her weight against his. They were sent crashing backwards, against and through the glass railing. Both went falling down towards the dance floor with shards of glass raining down on them and everyone else.

[member="The Slave"]​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave reveled in his strike’s success, despite the strong hook he took to his stomach. Reeling slightly, he took a few steps back as the smile on his face widened to an almost unnatural width; a taunting gesture that spoke far more than he was at those moments. Its message was clear, he was enjoying this more by the second, regardless of their position. He was a fundamental force of human nature, and what she faced off against now was not a mere man, but too many sins to count.

Still, she at least had some prowess about her by assuming his tunnel vision. He happened to forget his back faced the balcony, and as she charged him he did little to attempt to stop her. In fact, he did two things, each their own individual action with vastly different intentions;

The first, a quick sprawl of his legs matched with a violent series of elbows meant for her spine. With the hardest part of his body moving to land numerous blows against the small of her back, the ever so slight enhancement of the force came to bring the total power meant for the strike to multiply. That coupled with the slowing nature of his legs being sprawled allowed just enough strikes to land to likely crack a lumbar, hurting her ability to continue the fight.

The second action however, was something she wouldn’t be expecting. A hand, wide and sprawling, didn’t move to harm not gouge, in fact it meant little to do in terms of harm. Instead, it found its place directly on her rump, taking a rather tight grasp before both of them were sent off the balcony into the ground below.

Despite his actions, his lack of awareness didn’t prepare him for the hefty fall that her weight only amplified. Smashing into the ground, his smile jerked away from him as he let out a blood filled series of coughs. She had broken some indiscriminate ribs, puncturing one of his lungs. He could feel his breath turning short, even in those quick moments, and his ability to maintain the fight himself was going to be quickly slowing.

At this point, it mattered more what they had done up to this point; and the winner would be decided not on who could last longer, but who could finish what they started. A fight based in an inferno of aggression, it would seem.

│ @Vaylin │

 

[Vaylin]

By the end of this night Vaylin would learn a valuable lesson in not underestimating someone. She had started this fight out of annoyance, not taking too well to The Slave's advances. It had progressed because she saw nothing more than a scrawny opponent that got a bit too handsy.

Needless to say, The Slave had proven quite aptly that he had plenty of hidden strength within him. But by that point both were far to into the fight, adrenaline pumping; blood flowing. After a certain point neither combatant were going to stop until either one was knocked out or dead.

Vaylin's previous annoyance over his actions had been washed away by the thrill of a fight. Between two opposing beasts, both in equal parts enjoying it.

The Zabrak let out a gasp as she felt an elbow slam into her spine, specifically aiming for the lumbar. Again, it proved she had underestimated The Slave's proficiency in fighting. As she pushed them towards the railing, Vaylin tried angling her body so her back wasn't so open to her opponent, but it wasn't entirely effective. She could feel something go crack the moment they went sprawling off the balcony.

People screamed, rushing out of the way as two bodies came crashing down on the dance floor.

With Vaylin's awkward posture in the descent, she had fallen just off The Slave, part of her weight striking him as they landed before she rolled to his side. The Zabrak stared up at the ceiling, neon lights flickering around. She could feel the pain now, echoing across her body into a verbal hiss. There was commotion in the distance, no doubt the security were finally moving into action, although now they had a swathe of people to get through first.

Vaylin groaned, drawing on the aching pain that was racking her body. The Zabrak grabbed a hold of it, curled it back into herself, adding as fuel to try and drive her back onto her feet. She peered over to The Slave, seeing the pale man slowly trying to get up too. Taking the opportunity to try and end this for good, she quickly rolled herself over, right atop of him.

Whether it took him be surprise or not, the Zabrak had straddled him and was currently looming over him. It seemed their fight wasn't going to end, neither had the strength to press this on any further beyond ending it here and now. But as Vaylin looked down at The Slave, strands of her hair falling down to his face - something shifted. That hunger to cause more harm, to shed more blood twisted into something else entirely.

She slammed her lips down against his.

[member="The Slave"]​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave struggled to stand as the blood filled one of his lungs, but his disappointing attempts at regaining a fighting stance fell flat before Vaylin moved to straddle him. Her moved to cover a portion of her face, her chest heaving from exertion as he watched her; forcing a bloodied grin to form beneath her. Crimson and ivory pulled wide, almost taunting her in a knowing manner as a subtle laugh left his throat.

It was then even he was surprised, watching as she moved to kiss him. Saliva and blood mixed to form a disgusting cocktail between their mouths, his hands moving to hold her head once more. Not as he had before, what with a headbutt in mind, but with a tender pull. It seemed after everything, he actually did get what he intended;

Though this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

It was then that security finally got through to them, pressing past the onlooking and confused crowd with their usual fervor. Ripping Vaylin from The Slave, and The Slave from the floor, he offered her a beaming smile as both of their blood dripped down his chin.

Although it was cut short, he couldn’t help but think that might’ve been one of the best instances of foreplay he’s ever had. Hopefully they met again when he finally got Joza to let him get by after busting up a small portion of her club...

│ @Vaylin │