Sufjan Steven enthusiast
Walking the upper levels of Coruscant was by all definition an art form. It took a certain level of skill to fly under the radar, especially when slinking up from the belly of the underworld. She didn’t stray far into the sun on the regular. Not enough that the jarring sophistication of the marble lanes became habitual. But on the occasion, she felt bold enough to surface for a breath, to skim a few credits off those whose pockets wouldn’t feel a thing.
The market district was a perpetual hive of activity, swarming with aristocrats who had a reliably loose hold on their credits, ready to throw them at whatever vender held their attention. It was a scene Tamiko felt plenty familiar with, one that undoubtedly had a small grin playing on her lips.
As had become ritual, she’d stripped away the residue of the lower levels to avoid raising immediate suspicion. Wearing her hair down to obscure the scars warping her face to her best ability, she dressed simply. All attempts to appear unassuming, as if she was merely waiting for a friend to try on clothes with, to feign excitement over a pair shoes and shower with adoration and empty compliments. Leaning against a bench, generously shaded by an overtly symmetric tree she eavesdropped from one superficial conversation to another searching for a target.
The market district was a perpetual hive of activity, swarming with aristocrats who had a reliably loose hold on their credits, ready to throw them at whatever vender held their attention. It was a scene Tamiko felt plenty familiar with, one that undoubtedly had a small grin playing on her lips.
As had become ritual, she’d stripped away the residue of the lower levels to avoid raising immediate suspicion. Wearing her hair down to obscure the scars warping her face to her best ability, she dressed simply. All attempts to appear unassuming, as if she was merely waiting for a friend to try on clothes with, to feign excitement over a pair shoes and shower with adoration and empty compliments. Leaning against a bench, generously shaded by an overtly symmetric tree she eavesdropped from one superficial conversation to another searching for a target.