Had it not been for the roof top caving in under the the Mandalorian's efforts to penetrate her apartment, Rhailo would have counted herself lucky. Only one bounty hunter. Surly, secretly, she considered her crimes worth at least a small squadron-- but this one seemed to be cut from a different cloth than the usual syndicate bred meat heads she danced circles around. This wasn't her first chase, after all. Rhailo didn't think there was an Auroun alive who hadn't kept to the winds with the dogs of credit chase nipping at their heels, but with such power came great and unforgiving responsibility. There was, to put it lightly, secrets at stake.
Crumbling framework and heavy concrete battered her bedroom, essentially crushing the contents, which included but wasn't limited to the materials she meant to gather. Falsified paperwork, ocular implants for retinal scans, beskar grade upgrades for her armor, said armor. Irreplaceable in their own right, fear quickly shifted to anger as the suited hunter made his appearance within the plumes of smoke and dust, giving just enough information to ensure Rhailo wasn't out of the loop. The name wasn't unknown to the woman, and it was entirely possible she owed them far more than the rest of the syndicates combined.
"I'mma give you credit for showmanship." Rhailo said coolly, tonguing the corner of her lip as opal orbs dragged along the stranger's gear. While she wasn't an expert in what determined quality of supplies, she did know solid craftsmanship when she saw it; his was no amateur job. Whatever set of hands or claws or machinery brought that suit to life wasn't fucking around, and the Auroun made note of what she could see. It wasn't obvious the way she detailed his figure, though she also continued to speak, as though considering what it would take to track the audio while also assessing how she might garner information from his appearance. "I'm sure what you're wearing is a real hit with the ladies everywhere. You know, I always loved a man in a mask. Gives that certain, uh, what would you call it? Allure? Mystique? Sense of wonder?"
Meanwhile, idly, the heel of her stiletto pressed firm into the tile of her entryway. A flicker shimmered through her appearance, almost too brief and too quick to linger on. After all, she was just standing there, speaking.
"I used to have this ex. Real crazy guy, you know. Got big into masks and gear. Hell, he had this thing where his biggest fetish was when he couldn't breathe through his shit, so he'd flop around like a fish." The figure before Demagol gave a sort of shimmy, all hips in those form fitting jeans, arms still content to rest beneath the swell of her breasts. Goodness, was she attractive, all starlit and seductive, lips curling into a curious smirk as eyes watched him. Empty eyes. Eyes without soul. "I think he still hangs down is Kerkirik's from time to time, though he moved on to picking up the Oorkanian's walkers by the dock, and I'm not keen on sharing. You know what I mean? Bet a guy like you doesn't share-"
The mirage, if that was was it could be considered, was starting to fade. The imprint on the fabric of the realm was slipping, lost as time ran out on the illusion, leaving nothing but the faintest whispers in the air. "You got a girlfriend, stud? She know where you are now-"
Rhailo was running. Back through the door she had sneaked, going so far as the elevator, though she reconsidered this course of action as she realized he'd likely blow it up. He didn't seem like he was keen to fuck around, especially when the imagery she left behind ran it's course, as no one liked falling for a decoy. The Auroun cursed quietly, and retreated to the opposite side of the hall, darting towards the stairwell that likely only saw use by the hookers who roamed this darker side of Nar Shaddaa; she was lucky they hadn't crowded the entry point. Despite wearing heels, Rhailo had a certain glide to her step, and her body moved without much movement at all- a glide that rippled through the air like she was floating.
Half in, half out.
Auroun weren't a pleasure race made for servitude. No, they were weavers of fantasy and creators of dreams. They embodied an existence beyond the flesh lands, and though space, and technology, and universal scaling made the entire feel of reality minuscule, their abilities transcended the cosmic concept of space and time. Rhailo knew little of it, but she could phase shift through walls and create near perfect clones of herself, and those small additions seemed to add flavor to an otherwise abusive lifestyle. In all fairness to a rather impressive race, Rhailo was shit at what she did, as there was more to learn, and she never had interest to bother. A bag of tricks was all it took to wreak havoc, and the rest?
Well, the rest was saved for scholars and psions. Rhailo didn't have the drive to excel. Just to squeak by.
The bottom floor came sooner than it should have, but she was cheating by hopping the railing to drop several floors in her haste, as he was likely coming to find the doppelganger disappearing. Pushing back out into the street, fatigue already ate at her muscles like the gnaw of termites at the foundation of a home. Just chipping at the typically energetic being as a means of punishment for pushing herself; she wasn't entirely confident she would get away. Yet, despite it, she made a run for it. Back through the dark back alleys and filthy streets of Nar Shaddaa's most urbanized crime sector. If nothing else, he would need to be quick and agile, as she slipped through the thin cracks with ease due to her lack of heavy gear.
One such spot, a fracture of space between two towering apartment complexes, was where she impractically stuffed herself into; physically pained at how thin it demanded her chest and waist to be for entry. "Stupid fucking curves.."
Crumbling framework and heavy concrete battered her bedroom, essentially crushing the contents, which included but wasn't limited to the materials she meant to gather. Falsified paperwork, ocular implants for retinal scans, beskar grade upgrades for her armor, said armor. Irreplaceable in their own right, fear quickly shifted to anger as the suited hunter made his appearance within the plumes of smoke and dust, giving just enough information to ensure Rhailo wasn't out of the loop. The name wasn't unknown to the woman, and it was entirely possible she owed them far more than the rest of the syndicates combined.
"I'mma give you credit for showmanship." Rhailo said coolly, tonguing the corner of her lip as opal orbs dragged along the stranger's gear. While she wasn't an expert in what determined quality of supplies, she did know solid craftsmanship when she saw it; his was no amateur job. Whatever set of hands or claws or machinery brought that suit to life wasn't fucking around, and the Auroun made note of what she could see. It wasn't obvious the way she detailed his figure, though she also continued to speak, as though considering what it would take to track the audio while also assessing how she might garner information from his appearance. "I'm sure what you're wearing is a real hit with the ladies everywhere. You know, I always loved a man in a mask. Gives that certain, uh, what would you call it? Allure? Mystique? Sense of wonder?"
Meanwhile, idly, the heel of her stiletto pressed firm into the tile of her entryway. A flicker shimmered through her appearance, almost too brief and too quick to linger on. After all, she was just standing there, speaking.
"I used to have this ex. Real crazy guy, you know. Got big into masks and gear. Hell, he had this thing where his biggest fetish was when he couldn't breathe through his shit, so he'd flop around like a fish." The figure before Demagol gave a sort of shimmy, all hips in those form fitting jeans, arms still content to rest beneath the swell of her breasts. Goodness, was she attractive, all starlit and seductive, lips curling into a curious smirk as eyes watched him. Empty eyes. Eyes without soul. "I think he still hangs down is Kerkirik's from time to time, though he moved on to picking up the Oorkanian's walkers by the dock, and I'm not keen on sharing. You know what I mean? Bet a guy like you doesn't share-"
The mirage, if that was was it could be considered, was starting to fade. The imprint on the fabric of the realm was slipping, lost as time ran out on the illusion, leaving nothing but the faintest whispers in the air. "You got a girlfriend, stud? She know where you are now-"
Rhailo was running. Back through the door she had sneaked, going so far as the elevator, though she reconsidered this course of action as she realized he'd likely blow it up. He didn't seem like he was keen to fuck around, especially when the imagery she left behind ran it's course, as no one liked falling for a decoy. The Auroun cursed quietly, and retreated to the opposite side of the hall, darting towards the stairwell that likely only saw use by the hookers who roamed this darker side of Nar Shaddaa; she was lucky they hadn't crowded the entry point. Despite wearing heels, Rhailo had a certain glide to her step, and her body moved without much movement at all- a glide that rippled through the air like she was floating.
Half in, half out.
Auroun weren't a pleasure race made for servitude. No, they were weavers of fantasy and creators of dreams. They embodied an existence beyond the flesh lands, and though space, and technology, and universal scaling made the entire feel of reality minuscule, their abilities transcended the cosmic concept of space and time. Rhailo knew little of it, but she could phase shift through walls and create near perfect clones of herself, and those small additions seemed to add flavor to an otherwise abusive lifestyle. In all fairness to a rather impressive race, Rhailo was shit at what she did, as there was more to learn, and she never had interest to bother. A bag of tricks was all it took to wreak havoc, and the rest?
Well, the rest was saved for scholars and psions. Rhailo didn't have the drive to excel. Just to squeak by.
The bottom floor came sooner than it should have, but she was cheating by hopping the railing to drop several floors in her haste, as he was likely coming to find the doppelganger disappearing. Pushing back out into the street, fatigue already ate at her muscles like the gnaw of termites at the foundation of a home. Just chipping at the typically energetic being as a means of punishment for pushing herself; she wasn't entirely confident she would get away. Yet, despite it, she made a run for it. Back through the dark back alleys and filthy streets of Nar Shaddaa's most urbanized crime sector. If nothing else, he would need to be quick and agile, as she slipped through the thin cracks with ease due to her lack of heavy gear.
One such spot, a fracture of space between two towering apartment complexes, was where she impractically stuffed herself into; physically pained at how thin it demanded her chest and waist to be for entry. "Stupid fucking curves.."
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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Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:27 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:30 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:38 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:40 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:41 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:42 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:44 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:46 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:47 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:49 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:50 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:52 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:52 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:54 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:55 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:56 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:58 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:59 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:00 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:01 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:02 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:03 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:03 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:04 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:05 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:07 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:07 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:09 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:10 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:13 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:13 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:15 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:17 AM