A Cut Above

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

A Cut Above​

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Nar Shaddaa//Midnight​

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The husk of Shaddaa's tormented streets whistled with the uneasy chorus of engine grease and muted chatter, the slow groan of distant speeders pacing the obsidian sky as the deluge of filth and depravity gnawed at the moon's core. It was like every other night on the infamous rock, another tainted chapter in the thousand year long narrative of crime and corruption that swept the festering den of thieves and monsters. Alas, no one would have had it any other way, at least for those in power that is. It was the hallmark of their work, every secret deal, bloodied street and illegal purchase were the meat to the bones of Nar Shaddaa's elite and stripping that away from the tainted moon would have reduced it to little more than a rocky corpse. Death made the dead thing alive, the baptism of spilled blood and the smoke of war invigorating it's grey shell.

Zen, like the countless individuals before her, blossomed within the hallowed grounds of Nar Shaddaa's tainted underbelly. The porcelain skinned woman was a product of its curse, a creature born from the moon's sickness and propelled into heights not even she envisioned, to a throne built on the bodies of the men who preceded her. She remained a rumour, a curious specter in the Undercity and an ever-present shadow that loomed over the non-believers that sought to threaten her work.

People knew not to disturb the Baroness of the Butcher's district, even if they knew not what she looked like or even if she still existed. Was she a hoax concocted by the Red Ravens? A runaway sith haunting the criminal underworld's sacred tombs? Or was she a mere urban legend, a story to tell young upstarts about the dangers of dealing in slavery and letting their cocks think before their brains? It was flattering, if slightly perturbing, that such tales would sprout so quickly and remain hidden behind whispers and nervous smirks, even after that first tumultuous year her career began. Zen kept quiet, let the fables spread of their own accord and only ever sunk her teeth into something worthwhile if her work demanded it.

Alas, work had been sorely lacking as of late.

Cradled behind shadows and steel, the young woman was perched atop the ledge of the second floor of her Spice den, her slender figure nonchalantly saddling the lip of the balcony with cigarette in hand and a pensive look painted on her feline features. With her dark hair tussled by the smog and wind and her body clothed in the darkest velvoid body suit, Zen remained still and silent as she peered down at the streets below. Gone was the hum of the droids that produced the Spice, the regulated maintanence hour having begun mere minutes before the woman's timely arrival. Her men, garbed in their gear and ever watchful were stationed at the bar several blocks down, the woman granting them a moments respite in one of her rare attempts at 'being nice'.

It was an excuse, the half Firrereon simply didn't want them around.

She needed time alone, time to think and consider all that was happening in her little kingdom and throughout Nar Shaddaa as a whole. Questions lay heavy in her mind, queries and oddities poking her conscious like gnats in what could only be described as the most frustrating procession of contemplative musings ever. The symphony of sounds both outside and inside melted into a humming maelstrom, the resounding clangs, muffled chatter and stampede of footsteps were to become white noise, the background chorus to the Baroness' time alone. Her thoughts could ride with the tempo of her surroundings, procure revelations if such a thing were true...

However, such a thing seemed impossible at that moment when a footstep echoed out of time, a little louder than the others, a stray song seeking a lone female.

ta-tap, ta-tap, ta-tap...

It resounded against the metal hub of the Spice den, coming closer and closer to the Baroness of the Undercity.

[member="Zenva Vrotoa"]

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Oh the sweet perfume of corruption. Nar Shaddaa was ripe with the heady odor of villainy and depravity. It permeated into everything and everyone on that accursed moon. It had been far too long since The Blood Matron had set heel to pavement on this beautiful rock, years actually once she stopped to think on the fact. Last time she had been here the Red Ravens were celebrating, praising their then leader [member="Cryax Bane"] for their newly garnered control over the Smuggler's Moon. Before that she had been here to collect a bounty on the crime lord's younger brother. That particular memory drew a sharp smile to Zenva's plush lips. Sadly there was no time to dwell on the pleasant memory of beating Sage bloody in his own apartment and she forced the thought away before other memories of the Sith could spoil her only fond one.

Zenva touched one finger to the side of her amber colored Shadez, "Report." One simple word spoken over an encrypted comm channel, yet the effect was staggering. Dozens of positions began feeding information over the airwaves nearly instantaneously. The chatter was short and concise, the work of professional soldiers not dim witted syndicate muscle. Zenva's elites were out in force tonight. Eighty of the finest Zabrak warriors Iridonia had to offer slid through the decayed streets of Nar Shaddaa, silent as a whisper of the wind. Shades in the midnight gloom as indistinguishable as the shadows that choked the narrow alleyways between Zenva and her target.

"Target confirmation matron. Local muscle on standby, minimal distance. Advise." Came the final report from the second in command of her private little army of death dealers.

"Leave them for now Kil'kae. If things get flashy hit them with a scrap maker. All units hold position. We're here to make friends, not corpses." The matron's word was law, one her warriors dared not defy. Moments later Zenva emerged from one of the nearby alleys, her leather coat slapping the back of her legs, moved by the brisk night air and her own rhythmic strides. The soft creak of leather accompanied every motion the Zabrak made, from her armored corset shifting with the sway of her hips, to the blades of her pistols moving in their holsters. To her ears her leather was a symphony, an ode to her accomplishments and the rivers of blood she had left in her wake. A dirge to her old life. When clear, cool nights like this were filled with the metallic scent and soothing warmth of freshly spilt blood kissing her skin as another victim feel before her. Ah what it would be like to be young again.

Durasteel rang as the militant matron made her way through the Spice Den. Once or twice drug addled patrons were thrust aside, others were wise enough to clear her path. On the second floor the crowd was thinned to nonexistent, perplexing the Zabrak for only a moment before she passed through a doorway and into the open air once more. Sitting alone and straddling the edge of the balcony, a trim young woman in a suit of true black. A slow smile cut Zenva's features, pearl white serrated teeth gleaming in the faint light. Her voice a husky purr as she spoke, "You must be the Butcher Baroness. Do you know how difficult you are to track down, girl?"

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

The echoing strides of the stranger's footsteps bounced across the durasteel panels, the resounding rhythm reverberating throughout the entire building like a heartbeat. Louder and louder the sound became, so much so that Ariadne could do little more than listen and wait. These were not the footsteps of a friend. Confident strides were not the sounds one would hear in a spice den, especially not at this time of night where the only creatures left were intoxicated vagrants and groaning whores. Still, the pale skinned woman remained unperturbed, more annoyed than concerned that someone had encroached on her time alone. Did they pose a risk? The safe answer was a yes, the generally accepted fact that no one on this moon was without a little deceit and danger, even the most comeliest of dancers. However, Ariadne, Zen of the Butcher's District, held no fear nor was she in the mind to even make a fuss about the potential intruder.

If they started trouble they would die, simple as that.

Lean, toned legs gently swung back and forth over the balcony, the woman's surprisingly dainty feet adorned in a pair of obsidian boots that glinted from the dull haze of the neon glow below. If she were prepared for a fight Ariadne did not look it, she was the very image of nonchalance. With her back turned towards the entry and the burning cigarette limply balancing between two slender fingers, the Baroness looked every bit the reckless and vulnerable creature some would view her to be. She was a slim woman, smaller than most other predators that lurked through the tainted criminal wasteland and if it weren't for her reputation and the often hidden set of razor sharp teeth then she'd look like nothing more than an easy target. A girl to conquer and dump in the streets, half naked and bleeding.

Her visitor, however, seemed savvy enough to know that she was anything but.

Two heartbeats echoed into the chamber of Ariadne's mind, sparking a moment's curiosity as the noise replaced the stranger's footsteps. Even without turning, Ariadne knew the intruder was female, it was the scent and the minor flutter of a quickened heartbeat. The husky voice affirmed the young woman's knowledge, eliciting the smallest of grins before she clenched her jaw. With a shallow sigh, the Baroness tapped the ash from the tip of her cigarette before slowly turning to face the crimson skinned Zabrak, a slender brow raised as she gauged the presence of the tall woman.

"I'd like to think I do that on purpose." Ariadne offered flatly, pursing her lips as her auburn gaze flickered across the newcomer's features. She was armed, possessed a particular aura not dissimilar from the men and monsters Ariadne knew all those years ago. It was clear she was no poser. Alas, the sight of two guns did little to threaten the young woman and with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders and a flick of her fingers she elegantly rose to her feet and leaned against the railing, her forlorn cigarette now tumbling through the open air and onto the streets below. No doubt someone would try to salvage it. "If you know that I'm the Baroness I'd assume you'd have the forethought not to be calling me girl." The young woman mused, clicking her tongue as she leered up at the newcomer.

It was too petty of an insult to react to, but statements must be made and dominance must be shown. Such was the way of the animal kingdom.

"So, don't tell me you've come all the way here to gaze upon my pretty face." Ariadne smirked with a sarcastic purr, offering the woman the deadliest of simpers. Razor sharp teeth framed by two luscious crimson lips...

[member="Zenva Vrotoa"]

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Zenva's hearts thundered as the lean, young Baroness uncoiled from her perch. Adrenaline flooded her veins, liquid fire searing through every nerve ending she possessed. Later when she sat alone, meditating in her quarter's aboard her flagship, she would understand that there was nothing she could have done to prevent the reaction. For that's what it was, an animalistic reaction to a primitive instinct. Every predator in the galaxy shared the same three base instincts, to hunt, to feed, and to... well.

For now however, Zenva's gaze followed the fallen cigarette briefly while her pulse ebbed toward normalcy, a steady torrent of venomous curses flickered through her mind each aimed at her apparent lack of self control. She drew herself upright, a towering six feet in her heeled riding boots. Her left hand plucked at the hem of her black and red pleated miniskirt, an unconscious gestured that ensured the fabric was clear of the pistol grips. Her right hand brushed her coat back as she hooked a thumb into her belt, the gesture exposing the grip of one of her secondary pistols in it's rigging beneath her armpit. A cold laugh rolled from Zenva's throat, "Oh it's much more polite to call you girl when you consider the alternatives. Petty little crime lord for instance."

A fierce grin cut the Zabrak's features, her razor teeth displayed prominently. "Of course you're quite right. I am not here to catch a glimpse of you, girl. I'm here to see why the Butcher Baroness acts so timidly. I'm beginning to understand unfortunately." Zenva paused to lean her back against the wall. The leather coat falling away to show the full curve of her body, corded muscles shifting beneath her black leggings as she moved. Yet another weapon could be glimpsed at the small of her back, something not unlike a short barreled shotgun.

"Tell me, is it arrogance or simple lack of experience that leaves all your street soldiers gathered together in the cantina down the road? Better still, if I have a missile put through that building, wiping away your men in an instant of flame and rubble, how long before you have reinforcements here, Baroness?" The younger woman's title rolled off Zenva's tongue with a purr.

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

It was a common occurrence for Ariadne to find herself looking up at the many who thought her nothing more than a wayward daughter of Mandalore and a girl too green for the mean streets of Shaddaa. Alas, the Baroness was particularly talented at making her shortcomings her strength, through a combined cocktail of deception and her feminine wiles. She was a woman dwarfed by Hutts and their ilk, out manned by the likes of larger organisations such as the Red Ravens and left contemplating her various run ins with a certain Underlord who had a very bad habit of turning her into something much more soft and willful whenever he happened to slip in on the rare occasion. The Baroness, even with her kingdom, was small and unassuming...and she wouldn't have it any other way. Her work was intimate and strategically mapped out, a little virus that latched on to the larger, more obnoxious groups that roamed the criminal underworld and bled them dry until there was nothing left but corpses and scary stories for the local street urchins.

This visitor, the irksome stranger in high heels with her superior smirk and her unnecessary displays was just another poor soul caught in the chaotic wheels of Shaddaa, one who looked like a confused Twi'lek caught in an adult holo that is.

With a blank stare, Ariadne contemplated her options, gauged every single possibility this little scenario granted her before ruling out the ones which involved her having to get messy. Did she want to get rough? Not particularly, not this late anyway, but if the Zabrak kept playing the jeering fool then her new manicure may suffer an unfortunate recolour. Ariadne ignored the creature's comment, merely blinking away the insult as if she expected a little more from an armed heckler this late at night. She could've been a bit more imaginative, right?

Pursing her lips, Ariadne raised a brow at the woman's statement, feigning shock as she offered the cantina several blocks down an inquisitive little gaze. If this was a game of provocation then Zen knew well enough that empty threats weren't going to do much, the Zabrak could have dangled a chit full of illegal recipes in front of her face and that would have properly granted more of a reaction out of the porcelain skinned young woman than a jab at the aforementioned work ethic. Ariadne was unmoved, seemingly bored as she listened to the newcomer and only found herself sniffing at the retort once the creature was done.

"Blow them up then." She answered bluntly, rolling her shoulders back before curling her figure till she was glancing at the derelict building opposite the Spice den. "I was wondering why the mouth-breather in that window over there hasn't moved since I arrived. Him and his friend holed up in the room two floors up." Ariadne mused thoughtfully, offering the hidden elite a little wave before smirking at the red skinned creature standing opposite her. "If you wanted to threaten me then all your little roaches scuttling around my district would have done the damage sooner. You think I wouldn't notice the influx of activity, now I would call that arrogance." Ariadne sighed, drumming her nails against the durasteel railing before lightly tapping her earlobe.

I can hear everything. There was no need to explain any further, not to this woman anyway.

"Clearly you want something from me, hence why you're using my men as collateral. Strong play, I admire a confident first move. But, if you wanted me dead you could have ordered it seventeen minutes ago, I'm sure there's more than just those two fools with guns trained on me." Ariadne smirked, flicking a speck of dirt from her fingertip before strutting towards the entryway, casually sizing the woman up as she neared the interior. "And darling, I don't need reinforcements. Not here anyway." This was her turf, her people and any disturbance in the heart of her kingdom would summon hell itself, or worse. But, if things were to turn sour several squads of swarm drones were on standby both inside and outside the Spice den, not that Ariadne would reveal that of course.

"Now, are you going to continue playing around or are you going to tell me why you have come. I don't have time for roleplay." She uttered, lazily nodding towards the inside of the workshop for the woman to follow, completely unperturbed by the presence of her weapons.

[member="Zenva Vrotoa"]

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Her smile shifted subtly as something between pleasure and amusement washed away her high and mighty smirk. "Clever girl." She murmured, approval coloring her tone. Zenva pushed herself upright once more, her gaze trailing over the younger woman as they stood at the doorway for a fleeting moment. One hand rose, triggering the comm system built into her Shadez, "Echo team. Your location is comprised. Fall back and secure Exfil." As her hand fell away, her Shadez were removed. Yellow-red eyes stared intently into the Baroness' auburn orbs. Her headset was set on the banister, diminutive protests and calls of "Get eyes on The Matron" ensued. Zenva ignored them as she followed the Baroness inside.

"I am not here to make corpses, Baroness." Again the title rolled from Zenva's tongue with a husky purr. "If I were, I would not have wasted my time talking. I would have dropped Armor at the end of the road and ordered them to fire." She trailed after the younger woman slowly. Her posture relaxed, thumbs hooked in her belt. Her eyes never stopped moving, examining every contour of the Baroness in her black suit. Surely she was armed but where in that slim little outfit could she conceal a weapon.

"Why I am here is complex. Reasons and purposes wrapped in intentions and dripping with inquiries." A chortle escaped the Matron, it wouldn't take much effort to realize she acting a fool intentionally, playing some kind of game without informing the Baroness of the rules of it. "Your a woman with her ear to the ground Baroness. Your keen hearing however, is turned to the sound of cockroaches scuttling through your district. I think it has left you deaf to the noises of the galaxy at large. I want to know why. Why is it that throughout Nar Shaddaa every district is consuming itself as petty crime lord after petty crime lord butchers their predecessors? Everywhere you look on this once magnificent rock, gangs fight and squabble over little pieces of territory only to be gunned down themselves by a new group of hoodlums. Everywhere, that is, except the Butcher Block. Why is that Baroness?" She purred as her hands closed on the smaller woman's shoulders briefly. Her grip tightened for a fraction of a second before the Zabrak released the woman. Her stride lengthened as she came to walk beside her hostess as it were.

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

Girl.

The term was grating, purely patronizing if it weren't for the creature's backhanded compliment and even then the woman found it all the more unnecessary. Not many individuals possessed the gall to be so insolent to her face, let alone do it so eagerly. The Zabrak was but one of a few, a select minority of people the Baroness willingly ignored for the sake of her own peace of mind. Alas, whilst the young Baroness remained stoic in the face of such overt provocation she kept the jeer in the back of her mind, allowing it to marinate as she continued observing the odd woman who'd somehow thought it safe and sane to track her down.

Combing a slender hand through her dark locks, the feline cartel boss found herself cocking a brow at the Zabrak's attempt at an explanation. She was clearly dancing around her true motives, evading answering Ariadne's query in the same blunt manner the smaller female would have. Still, the Baroness continued listening, to the combination of her pursuer's words and her heartbeat. Any stutter or stammer in one's pulse could be all the truth the young criminal needed as she'd become quite accustomed to the rhythms of liars during her time in the underbelly of Nar Shaddaa. People's words may remain perfectly articulated but it was literally in the heart of things did the young Baroness find her truth. Surprisingly, the Zabrak seemed to be honest, or at least avoided her genuine motivation with half truths and silly questions.

"...magnificent rock..."

The statement alone was enough to summon an amused sniff from Ariadne, the corner of her crimson lips momentarily curling upwards as she mulled over such a stupid belief. Nar Shaddaa was a festering scab in the universe and it had always been, a dirty little stain amidst the sparkling stars and shimmering nebulas. No amount of 'honour among thieves' could save the moon from its own innate corruption.

"I'm sure you've already been informed of that." Ariadne smirked, rolling her eyes as she kicked a deactivated pit droid from out of her way. The rusted object was flung much further than would be expected from a woman of Ariadne's build and the resounding CLANG echoed off the walls before the broken droid tumbled down into the vats below. "No one knows how to keep prime cuts of meat as fresh as me, I'm sure my competitors know there'd be a significant drop in quality edibles if I were to be dethroned and no one wants shoddy carcasses for dinner do they?." The woman uttered dryly, pulling up a seat next to a spice stained workbench and resting her slender legs atop the dusted surface. Red painted nails rapped against the durasteel for several moments before her hawkish gaze returned to the Zabrak.

"Still, I do wonder why you'd even think to ask me such a thing. It's not like I'm going to reveal my exceptional business model to a...stranger." She snarled softly, her auburn eyes glinting with dark amusement as she nodded with her head for the creature to sit down.

[member="Zenva Vrotoa"]

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Zenva's steps became exaggerated in their slow and purposeful motions as she held pace with the smaller woman. Even in plain sight of her Zenva's eyes traveled across the young Baroness in a ravenous, nearly greedy manner. How is this the Butcher Baroness? The thought fluttering away as quickly as it had come. What more could have truly been expected of the woman? She had shown herself to be cold, callous, and calculating beyond a doubt in just a few moments of their conversation. Yet, there was something about her perfect porcelain features that drove the Blood Matron mad with desire. A desire to shatter the woman's composure. To draw out every red emotion the Baroness kept chained behind her near infallible self control. You are not here to make corpses, she chastised silently. How many times had she needed to remind herself of that tonight?

The Baroness kicked a husk of a droid away with startling force, enough to cause the Matron's gaze to chase after the chunk of scrap metal. A small chuckle boiled forth as Zenva spoke, "Oh, I have heard the rumors Baroness. Enough of them to stir my curiosity of you. To see what truth there is to some of the stories they tell." She fell silent for a moment as the Baroness draped herself into a chair, crimson tipped digits hammering the durasteel table. Zenva's smug, satisfied smile returned while she blatantly admired the casual grace with which the younger woman moved.

"To be perfectly blunt, I don't give a chit what secrets you keep in your cookbooks, Baroness. We don't peddle the same products, you and I." The Zabrak slipped into a chair facing the Baroness, the motion one of long practiced liquid elegance. "Your business model, as you so eloquently put it, is part of what brings me here however." Her hands came together, elbows resting lightly upon the table, fingers stepled before her. "Tell me Baroness, how is your business model holding up? I would wager your profits have suffered of late. Between the wars raging here on Nar Shaddaa and the turmoil running rampant throughout the criminal underworld across all Hutt Space, it's a wonder you still reap any profit at all. It speaks volumes of your tenacity and I commend you for it. But it is this suffering that I come to address my Baroness. I wish to help you regain those lost profits. If, of course, such a thing is of interest to you."

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

There was a part of Ariadne that genuinely thought it amusing that the Zabrak had gone through all the effort to find her. No doubt the search would have started with several dead ends, empty spice dens with little to no trace of activity and conflicting tales of who and what the enigmatic Zen looked like. Some believed her to be a Twi'lek whose lekku had been butchered for meat in the slave pits, others thought her to be not just one person but a collective cabal of female individuals taking vengeance upon the men that wronged them and yet some of them actually believed her to be nothing more than a propaganda piece used by the Exchange to instill fear into the hearts of their opposition. Such was the way of Undercity folklore and the mere fact that someone actually dug through the layers of lies, tales and dead ends told the porcelain skinned woman that the red skinned creature possessed some modicum of adeptness...either that or someone in Ariadne's circle ratted her out.

If such a thing were true then she would find out and deal with the aforementioned loudmouth in her own time.

Still, Ariadne remained focused on her red skinned visitor and the words that were so eloquently delivered from that carnivorous maw. The Zabrak sounded pleased with herself, like a businesswoman who'd used all the right industry tricks to corner her customers into submission. Unfortunately for the creature, Ariadne was no stranger to late night advertising, thanks to those sleepless nights, and the proposition presented before her was enough to raise at least one perfectly sculpted brow. Had her guest recited these lines from a previous monologue or was this all summoned from a zesty approach to networking, an attempt at making a friend?

Probably not, but the thought alone summoned a thin smirk to ripple across the young woman's mouth.

"How curious. You presume to think my business is currently lacking, how you discovered such a thing I do wonder, and I'm not sorry if I don't believe that this is coming from the goodness of your hearts." Ariadne uttered, pursing her lips as her index finger carved sharp circles into the stained bench top. What was this Zabrak playing at? Any proposed business alliance was bound to be wrought with self seeking purposes, that much Ariadne could understand but it was the why of the matter that truly sparked her suspicion. "Let's say I am interested, you proposal sparking my willingness and allowing you access into my circle," Ariadne purred, twirling her free hand as if it were conducting the silken words that fell from her tongue, "What are you getting out of this? The young woman asked, as blunt as ever, Auburn eyes catching the creature's gaze.

[member="Zenva Vrotoa"]

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Zenva was quiet for a moment longer than necessary. Those yellow-red orbs of her's constantly moving over the young Baroness' form, the rest of her remained eerily still. The off handed comment about the Baroness' cleverness had been an understatement. The girl was much more then simply clever. She was observant, quick witted and perhaps the most eloquent criminal Zenva had ever dealt with. It was rather becoming.

Zenva's pleased smirk returned, "You're absolutely correct. My presence here has nothing to do with the goodness of my hearts or lack thereof." Still the Matron did not move, elbows upon the table, her hands stepled before her. A stillness reminiscent of a Nexu stalking it's pray. "I hardly find my presumption worthy of questioning however. Everywhere you look there is death and chaos. There are fewer and fewer vagabonds wandering the streets of Nar Shaddaa. They are either dead or swallowed up by your neighbors, Baroness. It is not so difficult to determine that you are suffering as much as those around you."

Quite suddenly the Matron rose from her chair. She moved with a slow, graceful stride, settling her rump against the table, a minimal distance between the two women. Though her body was turned away, arms folded beneath her bust, Zenva's yellow-red eyes were fixed on the Baroness in a side long stare. "Should you accept my," One hand twirled in the air idly as though the Matron were searching for a word she had never used, "Help let's call it, I will get precisely what I am after. Namely you, my Baroness." The Zabrak fell silent, letting the implications of her statement run through the younger woman's mind for only a moment before she spoke again, "As I said, reasons and purposes wrapped in intentions and dripping with inquiries. What it is I desire is not complicated. Yet it is difficult to explain."

Zenva turned, her hip now against the table, the distance between them dwindling minutely with her new position. A pleasant smile settled on her ample lips.

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

Suffering.

Such an odd choice to describe Ariadne's supposed predicament in her snug little kingdom, a word that instilled more amusement and confusion than concern. The young woman narrowed her gaze, a brow arced in pensive judgement as she granted the creature a moment's monologue.The Zabrak, with her apish red hands seemed to enjoy painting the entire Undercity with more than a few broad brushstrokes and it irked the porcelain skinned enigma that she'd somehow been included in the unfortunate portrait. If she were genuinely suffering then she wouldn't be affording the time nor space for an overly zealous alien. Still, Zen remained unflinching, silent and stoic as the faults of Nar Shaddaa were torn up from its murky depths. To even assume that she was but another desperate wretch scrambling for answers in the Spice filled wasteland was silly rhetoric, an insult if Ariadne were to let it linger more than a few seconds in her mind.

This creature was playing a very dangerous game.

She watched on, the narrow leer ensuring no movement was missed in her visitor's little venture across the stained table, eyes tracing the positioning of the Zabrak's hands and ensuring her ears were keenly trained on any sudden rise or fall in the duel hearts. Physical proximity, an attempt to show dominance or something much more malignant, infatuation. The thought alone was enough to make the corners of her lips curl back in minor disgust, her nose wrinkling as she crossed her arms and popped her jaw, wondering how this red skinned stalker of hers remained so persistent.

"Oh goodie." Zen muttered flatly, leaning back in the rigid seat before combing a slender hand through the dark torrent of hair. Was she actually being pursued? Right here and now? There was no way that someone could be this sober and this tenacious to find her just to tip toe around the their reason for being there. "I'm sorry darling, but help is the last thing I need at the moment, no matter how hard you try to push your case." She sniffed, flicking the little shavings of durasteel left in the wake of her nail carvings off the table before leaning forward and resting her chin atop the palm of her hand, something dark and playful swam in the midst of her auburn leer.

"If it is not complicated then there should be no issue. Now explain yourself. Ariadne ordered bluntly, her gaze never leaving the crimson features of the mysterious creature. "Because I'm beginning to think that you went through all of that work, all of those obstacles, to find me, not for something important but because you could claim me for...a date?" The half Firrerreon sneered, the amusement in her eyes dropping momentarily to show just how discontented she was with the situation.

"Telll me. Are you purposefully wasting my time, Zabrak?" Ariadne uttered, each word falling from her lips like a dagger, cutting the lukewarm air that was held between herself and the taller female.

[member="Zenva Vrotoa"]

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Zenva's incessant smile finally gave way, her lips pursing to a thin line. Diplomacy had never been a skill in the Zabrak's arsenal, bloodshed and mayhem on the other hand where long time bedfellows. She lacked finesse when it came to selling her clan's services. Not that the girl wasn't being stubborn in her own refusal of the Zabrak's most gracious offer of aid. Zenva's eyes narrowed as her hands fell to her hips, thumbs hooked on durasteel rings along her belt. She loosed a scornful little scoff, "Oh please. I would not have wasted my soldiers' time if I was after a date."

Zenva pushed herself upright and began to stroll about the Baroness'... office? She had never actually been in a spice den, not to carry on a more or less civil conversation at any rate. As such she found herself uncertain as to the actual purpose of the room they occupied nor could she place a proper name to said room. Was that where they were, an office? Perhaps this is where the Baroness produced her product. The table most assuredly showed evidence of the drug's use if nothing else. "Kark the theatrics than, eh Baroness? Let's cut to the marrow shall we?" Zenva turned back to the Baroness, thumbs on her belt, her leather trench coat held clear of her legs and subsequently her primary set of pistols. "Nar Shaddaa is in chaos. Rivalries are running rampant, gangs ripping each other apart in the streets. The Cartel is in no condition to police it's own territories. All in all, it's bad for business."

Slowly the Matron began to cross the room, eventually she would return to lean her hip against the table in front of the Baroness, "I have business associates who want facilities here. Men indebted to me that are in need of warehousing and private ports to establish their smuggling circuits. However the general discord here makes such operations difficult at best, and pointless without the proper contacts already in place. Which brings me to you Baroness. Your district is one of the most secure on Nar Shaddaa. All your rivals here are either dead or mysteriously missing."

Zenva leaned forward, a smile split her lips once more. There was no joy or mirth in the expression. "As I said, I'm here for you. You have done an admirable job of securing your district Baroness. I want to help you expand. Cut away some of the diseased flesh festering around your district." Zenva straightened, her hateful little smirk firmly in place. "Baroness is such a lowly title after all. Why settle for it when I can offer you so much more?"

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

There it was.

The simple truth.

Exhaling slowly, Ariadne witnessed the gradual shift in the creatures body language as the wicks of frustration began to sputter into something a bit more verbose and vitriolic. It didn't come as a surprise, the Zabrak had clearly come to her with a plan in mind, no matter how long it took the red skinned warrior to spit it out. Perhaps it was Ariadne's general disinterest in small talk that spurred the stubbornness, that or she simply wanted to gauge the other female's response before any decisions were made. There was little point tip toeing around half truths and smokescreens and the young cartel boss found a certain level of relief once the Zabrak finally revealed her reason for being there.

Alas, the creature's staunching monologue was not without a sharply turned eyebrow from the half Fierrerreon's side and as the Zabrak peered down at the seated cartel boss Ariadne found herself narrow her gaze ever so slightly and wrinkle her nose as if she were a child gazing upon a plate of boiled vegetables.

"Interesting." Was all she uttered, her piercing gaze never leaving the face of the grinning creature standing over her. There was little to be said about the Zabrak's lack of subtlety but her gusto was enough to warrant some minor shred of interest to spark in Zen's eyes, no matter how brief her curiosity was.

"I do hope you know that no man will operate as a conduit for someone else's business in my district. You're doing yourself no favours if you think I need your good graces to bend me to your business plan." The young woman stated bluntly, a cool stream of air escaping her nostrils before she slowly leaned inwards, chin resting atop a supple and clawed porcelain hand. "But still, I know you're a smart creature and you wouldn't dare think of undermining my district now would you?" She mused, cocking a brow before mirroring the Zabrak's feral smirk.

If this were a game of domination then the slender cartel boss was more than happy to play.

"I know little about you which is unfair considering you seem to know quite a bit about me." Ariadne noted quietly, pursing her lips as she rattled her sharpened nails against the steel bench top. Such a thing perturbed her more than it should have, not many knew of her existence and the fact that this sneering female managed to track her down made the certal boss all the more suspicious. "What are you and why should I even consider lending you a scrap of my land? For all I know you could be a little scout for the Sith Empire looking for a new slab of land to bargain off." Zen asked, her silken voice more curious than caustic as her eyes scanned the red skinned figure's face...watching every minor twitch and detail.

[member="Zenva Vrotoa"]

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Zenva listened quietly, her sinister little smile held firm on her ample lips. The Baroness' reaction was about as spectacular as the Zabrak Matron had expected. Cold disinterest and venomous quips, yet she remained silent while the woman spoke. Let her posture, let her think to set terms regarding her district, it didn't matter. Zenva didn't want her land or more accurately, she didn't want to take land away from the woman. She understood the woman's reluctance, her hesitation and wary demeanor. If someone had walked into Zenva's home as she had done tonight the only thoughts in her mind would be how to kill the intruder with the least risk to herself. She didn't doubt for a moment that a similar thought had already or even currently was running through the Baroness' mind.

Then the woman made a mistake. It was a little thing, a comment in defense of all the Baroness had achieved and scrapped together to call her own. All the woman had fought for. And it struck a raw nerve in Zenva that the Baroness would never fully understand. If she had said anyone, anything other than Sith, Zenva's anger would not have been so instantaneous. In the space of a single breath Zenva's hearts thundered to a tempo not yet heard during their conversation. Her smile vanished in the blink of an eye replaced by a scowl of unadulterated hatred. Her fist slammed down on the durasteel table, knuckles first, with enough force to rattle the bolts that held it together. Her voice came out raw and heated, "I am no Sith's queen Baroness!" The honorific dripping with venom. "No one owns Vrotoa Clan. And you'll do well to fething remember that."

The Zabrak turned and walked back to the balcony doorway, retrieving her amber Shadez. She settled them in place before returning to the table. Leaning one hand on the table, her split knuckles in plain view, blood stained the drug smeared tabletop. "I need warehousing and a port. The bribe is expanding your territory and trafficking your drugs to whole new markets. I'm offering you an ally while I'm at it. An army to enforce your rule instead of those simpletons in the Cantina down the street. A navy to run protection for transports of your product. All I want from you is a target and your cooperation. But," The Matron stood taking a few steps toward the exit. "If your not interested Zen I can leave."

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]

 

[Ariadne Van'Shelaq]

Ba-bump.

A thundering tremor that seemed to reverberate into the entire space of the dimly lit office even though Ariadne knew only she could hear it, could sense the immense pulse of rage that coursed through the veins of the Zabrak standing over her. It was a sound that snapped the porcelain skinned woman's attention and one that summoned a wariness that not even she planned on utilizing on that cold Nar Shaddaa night. The rhythm of one's heartbeat was Ariadne's portrait into the facets of those that crossed her path, she could tell a liar from an honest man, carve out the guilt from those she delicately tortured and decipher the difference between a nervous heart and a frightened one.

She could also tell when she enraged someone.

SLAM!

Cold iron screams echoed into the desk and split the white noise from Ariadne's mind, forcing the woman to peel back her lips and lowly snarl at the unjustified lack of restraint. It was always a pain, dealing with emotion and the instant she realized her teeth were bared the half Firrerreon shook and her head and sucked in a deep breath. Pursing her lips, the raven haired woman recoiled her leg from atop the table and straightened her posture, quietly leering up at Zenva as the creature detached herself from the table and sauntered away. With her jaw clenched and her feline gaze tracing every movement of the uninvited guest, Zen sat motionless as she watched and waited.

Alas, the creature did not even bother to reach for her weapon nor pounce on the seated cartel boss, much to Ariadne's surprise, and with a furrowed brow she bit down on her tongue as the fuming Zabrak made her final offer.

"You're a curious creature." Ariadne mumbled, the lilt of her voice dancing between sincerity and sarcasm but never quite knowing which one to settle on. "I wouldn't have thought you that eager to leave after a bit of resistance. Part of me is impressed you haven't struck me, unless you plan on blowing up the place once your pretty legs take you out that door." Ariadne mused, combing a slender hand through her hair before standing up and stretching her arms, her face returning to its permanent state of pensive boredom.

"Know this, Zabrak, I am not going to deny you your wish." She uttered quietly, taking a step forward as she procured a cigarette from her sleeve and lighting it with a quick flick of a weighty silver lighter. "But I expect you to remain in the district for a while, just so I can gauge what the situation is...also, use you as a piece of blackmail if your people ever try to feth with me." The woman smiled deviously, half joking as she quietly slinked around the taller female.

"Prove your worth and I shall prove mine when the time comes." Ariadne noted civilly, a plume of smoke escaping her lips and swirling about her like a toxic halo.

[member="Zenva Vrotoa"]

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Her temper was a fickle thing, so easily provoked and so difficult to restrain if control was lost. Insults burned like magnesium, sudden, white hot and gone in seconds. Walking away from the Baroness had given Zenva's anger a chance to burn out. It had, after all, been a petty and unintentionally insult. Or so Zenva was forced to tell herself. The Baroness couldn't have known how much those words would cut, how raw that nerve was because of one Sith in particular. Let it go, she chastised silently.

The Blood Matron stood stock still, her back straight and chin upturned a small degree as the Baroness rose and began to speak. That snark little attitude was really beginning to grate on Zenva's nerves. It took more self control than should have been necessary not to slap the taste out of the woman's mouth. It might be worth the fallout just to see that porcelain skin turn beet red. But she stayed her hand and held her tongue as the woman spoke.

Zenva's head turned lazily, keeping the Firrerrio in view for most of the woman's circuit around her. Finally she moved again, her hand coming up slowly as though she were going to point out some flaw in what the Baroness had said. As the woman passed in front of her, she struck. Her hand snapped out quick as a striking serpent to pluck the cigarette from the Baroness' lips. She took a long drag from the cigarette before offering it back, coal colored lipstick staining the end. Smoke trailed from her mouth slowly as she spoke, "Be aware Baroness, detaining me will invoke action from my men, not prevent it." She exhaled what smoke remained in her lungs in a carefully aimed cloud as to avoid the Baroness' face. "And I believe I have said this several times now, if I wanted you dead I wouldn't be standing here."

She stepped away from the Baroness, again settling her rump against the table. "I have no desire to make an enemy of you Zen. Your too intelligent to just destroy." Her arms folded beneath her bust as she watched the Baroness. "I would have thought my worth proven. I am, after all, standing in your office. How many visitors arrive without your invitation?" One hand waved through the air, dismissing her own question. "Nonetheless, I'm glad you're willing to see the merit of my proposal. There's a lot for you to gain here and so little is actually required of you."

[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]