MIRAGE
When the news of the
massacre had reached her, it gave her what she needed to tie off a loose end - her father - with strength and cunning enough to overcome the elder shifter, accumulated through years of work that saw her subjected to little else different from what he'd done or let happen to her first. The only difference was she
allowed it to happen the second time, with another party, for the sake of gain. For power. What she felt at that culmination of the whim that had led her to track Draven down in the first place, deciding that yeah, maybe she was still angry about what he'd done to her in some way, was little more than nothing at all. Learning the myriad meanings of 'being used', and how many of those applied to her youth (and according to
his people, she was still a
child) had stoked that anger and let it fester in the years before she had left, something like half her life ago. Those hot tears had been cried then.
Her one saving grace in this vengeance had been that he outlived his usefulness - he was too loyal to the old regime. She'd had the good sense to let it lie, unable to take the blowback that would have occurred in depriving the Hutts of a man of his skill - she had little doubt that the hunters would have been dogged enough to find her
eventually no matter how much misdirection she employed - but now she had capitalised on the opportunity created by the brief lurch in the midst of the shift in power. What she had to do to get close, gain his confidence, and avoid the hook of recognition... that was who she was, now. In part, it
was what he had made her, after all. Time and Sith training had done the rest.
Never mind that after a hot stay in the fresher on that day, she had drunk herself under the table, and chose not to nullify the effects, but that was the end of it. Some days later, she was good and ready to see what had moved into the void of power, and wouldn't you know it, a dingy club had popped up as if it was waiting for
her. Unlike the darkness that preceded her by some minutes in entering the temporary club, she employed a different tactic - there wasn't any point in dragging another body along for the ride when
no-one here knew your real face anyway. But that was the face she chose to wear,
with some adjustments, when she walked up to the entrance, and with a faint measure of influence pulling on the minds of the door staff... she sweetly reached up and patted their cheeks as easily granted recognition dawned on their faces. Another layer on top of the fact that she was effortlessly projecting what she
wanted them to see. Wanted
everyone to see.
Hair simply couldn't be
this holographic by any conventional means.
"Don't work too hard, yeah?" she advised with a flash of a smile, then slipped past into the makeshift club, her eyes lighting up ever so briefly at the sight of the shockboxing ring - entertainment! - as she proceeded deeper, in reality casing the joint, when all she appeared to be doing was going about fetching a drink. She didn't need to look with her eyes to see and feel the room, see and feel the no less than
three other presences, but look she did at the two rather strong ones engaged in conversation as she passed, dark pink eyes moving over them. One old, the other... foreboding.
She would only need so many more guesses from there as to who they both were. Context. Prior information. Keeping a finger on the pulse. Looking away from what was decidedly not her business but yes,
it pulled on her interest, she walked the rest of the way up to the bar, and answered
Parvati
's question,
"I do," interjecting before
Oancah Shag
had a chance.
"Two shots for me as well," Nekana spoke, pulling on the bartender's attention,
"No, make that three."