[/img]"http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="avatar" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Rhailo courted many concepts while dreaming; playing hide-and-seek with the imagery as escape from reality. The Auroun didn't consider this time any less real than her hours of awakeness, though she could see why others might be less or more inclined to argue the differences. To most, there was the whole gamut of senses to back up their perceptions of what life was, and had capability of being-- But Rhailo had such tangibility in dreams. To drift through their stories, and assume the role of captain in the events of past, present, future, and possibility-- That was treading through the unknown at it's most dangerous. Stalking the lines, seeking the frightening corners where the unspeakable lurked. This hunting in lucid landscapes could be bountiful, or it could kill her just as quickly as a bullet to the temple.
Death was always possible. For the Auroun, she doubled her chances. Tripled them. The older she was, the more exploratory her roaming became, and while her body recharged the energy she so greedily spent in her day to day activities, the woman's mind was a well oiled machine. Traversing the cob webbed recesses of tranquil space, waiting for the calm to revert to jagged fissures of distortion and warning. A mind would suffer to keep it's curious consciousness half sedated; there were things the humanoid psyche simply couldn't handle. Yet, in her infinite investment in discovering the new and secretive factoids in relation to her life, Rhailo hungrily soaked her fair share of knowledge from the veins and arteries of the subconscious. To siphon such detail from the core was almost sexual, and in that way, her body moved sensually in that deep sleep.
Writhing, whispering, panting- A feverish appetite on display.
But even such mental trekking ceased during the daylight hours, replaced by idle flickering of lashes to the various outside disturbances. Demagol left her in their accumulated juices as a sexual sprawl of bare flesh, but the Auroun wasn't at all phased by his abandonment. After all, she had lived a lifetime of separation from the rest of the populace, just an outsider who occasionally peered in out of sheer boredom. The Mandalorian could have left her there to conduct business without her present, and the Auroun would have continued embarking on her journey through sleep and it's realms, as that was a trance the woman never could get the hang of breaking free from in a timely manner. How many times had someone come so close to snuffing out her life force because they used her exhaustion to aid their actions? Rhailo wasn't always unlucky, but she did seem to have a sense of ill preparedness that botched many of her otherwise sound courses of action.
The message cut through her distanced consciousness like an icy prod, stirring her where she lay. "Get off on the planet-" Rhailo started sleepily, mumbling, "We did- we got off. Twice." Wild hues opened with a bright flashlight-esque blast of radiance through their still dim hotel room, though the Auroun blinked several times to lessen the intensity. Sometimes, parts of her body just illuminated, and it took concentration to keep their otherworldly glare from becoming problematic. Honestly, this forced any sort of covert operating on her part to eat away more of her power than she typically felt comfortable burning through, but disguises were generally as immersive as one could become in the underbelly of such cesspools as Nar Shaddaa; at least for one as fair and full as Rhailo Taicho Destros.
They would eat her alive here.
As realization seemed to seep through the fog of her moments struggling to obtain full consciousness, Rhailo rose to sit up, nails raking against her scalp lightly. Her movements didn't pause as legs swung out to the edge of the bed, and after a slightly shaky wobble to stand, the woman headed for the bathroom. This time, the door was not left open, and the sink ran to create ambient noise for him to filter through-- Otherwise, it was private. When the Auroun returned afterwards, it was apparent her face had been washed to some extent, as had other achievable places in the time frame. Combing back silver strands, their collective was held in a messy ponytail that left only wispy strands to frame her neat features. Observant opalescent hues lingered over the male's armor in the time it took her to close to gap between them, though she made no efforts to touch or appear tender to the fellow in the suit.
The space between their two forms was noticeable, and likely uncomfortable. She ignored it.
"I just need clothing, I guess..." Rhailo shot her attention back to the nightstand where Demagol had placed that second set of elastic covers the night before. Feet padded inaudibly along the carpet of the room until long arms reached to assess her options concerning wardrobe. As it was, these weren't something she really wanted to wear-- But the alternative was less appealing. So begrudgingly Rhailo dressed in silence. The upside to this was how well the fitted garments worked in her favor, compared to her initial thoughts that they would end up like a set of tents the woman would be in constant worry of losing. What the mandalorian filled with his muscled physique, the Auroun filled with curves, and the paper thin material accented that buxom body without limiting her movements. Even Rhailo seemed impressed when she was done squeezing into the material, heels slipped on as an after thought.
Swiveling back to face the male, manicured fingers produced the tips her mock waitressing had brought in, offered to Demagol. "I have nowhere to carry these, so just hold onto them? Scan them in for your accounts, I s'pose." Rhailo didn't seem put off in the slightest handing the remainder of her monetary assets to the hunter. As it was, if she really needed to make more credits, there were a thousand different ways to do so, and Rhailo had tried her hand at several such ventures over the years. Money could be made if money was needed-- Not in the quantities Demagol received it, but surly enough to skate by in pseudo comfort. One did well to dabble when they were forced to fend for themselves. When this transaction was initiated, and hopefully completed, the woman lingered outside of arm's length, waiting for his input on their plans.
At this point, Rhailo let Demagol lead their duo. It was only natural under these circumstances.
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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