It had been four months since the day Haseria. Since that day that all of her grandmother's hatred and inherited racism had bubbled up inside the brain and emotion of the young Scherezade deWinter. She had seen her first Mandalorian Armor that day, and the rage had overtaken her. In that rage, she had located the weak spots in the armor and used a little knife to kill that Mandalorian.
At the time, she had not known that he was Metus - the leader of the Confederacy, someone who was protected by way too many people within the Confederacy who just would not let him die and stay dead. It had been a clusterkrak fromstart to finish, ending with her being injured and him getting uber healed. It was unfair.
Later, Katrine had mentioned that it was her uncle, and Scherezade had, in an act of good faith, bumped him down on her kill list, all the way to last place. It was a very generous thing of her to do, seeing as the kill list was growing almost by the day. She could almost turn it into a religion if she had been the person to do religions in the first place.
In the days since then, she had been forced, on more than one occasion, to work with Mandalorians. She still hated them, but she could be around them these days without her rage taking over and her brain shutting off as she senselessly put all the pointy ends in all their bodies. Some would call it a character growth. Others would call it a weakness.
And here she was now, Scherezade deWinter, standing on Ryloth, at the first place her eyes had seen when she broke free from her pebble - the Floating Rocks.
And she had no idea what she was doing there.