Private The Highest Stakes

[Magena Dray]

Outfit: XoXo | Equipment: XoXo | Tag: Lossa Aureus ​

Magena couldn't remember the last time she'd been on Nar Shaddaa, always on the move and flitting from this place to that in order to keep ahead of whatever mother karker she pissed off last. Sure, it made it a little more difficult to find work sometimes, but having fewer jobs was better than ending up as a wall trophy for some sleemo Hutt again, or wasting away in some dank ass Galactic Alliance cell. Plus, there were always alternative ways to make a credit or two. Magena had her Force-blessed assets to always fall back on, after all, and she wasn't above using what her mother gave her. The only thing that no-good schutta ever really had.

Though, suppose that actually did make her good for somethin'. Not much, but somethin'.

Pushing through the crowds of wretched, poor, and pitiable that were always more prevalent on worlds like these, Magena made her way to the Rusty Rancor. She had a meeting with a cousin she'd never actually met before, but had always been a little curious about in... she glanced down at the jewel-studded chrono on her wrist that she'd swiped last month.

Well shit. Right now.

Magena gave a shrug and flipped a vibrant violet curl over her shoulder.

Ah, well. It wasn't like she was in a particular hurry to actually meet this person. Family or no, Magena knew enough to know that Lossa was a Jedi, and until she knew what the Jedi actually wanted, she'd keep her where all law-men and women belonged: at arms length and at the end of a blaster barrel.

She'd lived too long and lost too much, to ever do otherwise.

The Rusty Rancor was a dive, the kind of place only those in the know bothered with. Its sign creaked from the light breeze, barely hanging on by a few wires while the neon letters flickered like a diseased heartbeat. It was the perfect place to meet someone you didn't quite trust - public enough to prevent outright murder, private enough to have a...delicate discussion. Magena slid inside, glimmering magenta eyes adjusting to the dim lighting.

The air reeked of cheap booze and stale hopes, the smell of home.

There were perhaps more than a hundred customers inside, lounging in the poorly washed booths and oval tables, some of them eating and drinking, others closely huddled together, likely resolving or starting up some sort of 'business' venture. Magena knew better than to let her gaze linger on them long, and focused her attention instead towards the booth in the back corner. She could see the faint outline of a woman with coal black hair already sitting there.

"Well, well, well," Magena purred as she sauntered over, dropping into the seat across from the other woman, a cocky grin twisting her ruby lips. "I half expected you wouldn't actually show. Lossa, I presume?"

​

 

[Lossa Aureus]

Nar Shaddaa - Rusty Rancor
Wayward Jumpsuit and Armor
Lightsaber, Turmoil, Concealed Blaster, Nasty-Stabby, Dual Broken Core Daggers
Skiptown
Magena Dray​

Magena Dray.

It hadn't been difficult to remember the name out of all those on that long list with how everyone seemed to react to it. That kind of reaction usually meant they had less than pleasant ways of dealing with the galaxy at large. Whatever vice or reason Magena had for being the way she was, it was hopefully something Lossa could tap into for her own purposes. Or at least guide her to those with even less morals to help her along.

The Naboo authorities had failed her, and her feelings weren't something she wanted to let loose on that particular planet or its people.

They didn’t deserve to understand the depth of her feelings. The memory of her anger given form while trying to save others surfacing as she sat at the farthest booth she could snag. Patience and kindness only got her so far when she had dealt with problems before. And that being had pushed the boundaries of her patience to near failure of her mission.

Fighting Onrai would have been a no win situation with the padawan beside her alongside being pregnant with her daughter.

But she didn’t have either of those handicaps now.

And the feelings of rage were no longer the pent up emotions of a troubled child. But a mother seeking her daughter. Armored fingers tapped a slow and steady rhythm against the scuffed metal tabletop. Helmet set aside for the time being as she waited. Eventually twisting the wrist computer to check the chrono there.

Lip twitching as the time arrived while the seat across from her remained empty.

A dour curve to her lips as she shifted enough to observe her surroundings. Thugs. Spacers. Mercenaries. Low lives one and all around her. The bar itself wasn’t much better quality than the people that filled it.

Place needs a good cleaning.

The thought didn’t have time to grow beyond just the walls of the shady bar as another pink skinned being finally arrived. The vibrant hair and glimmering features a common staple for their people, but not something Lossa herself had made an effort to accentuate.

Was that of her own accord or just the way she believed it to be from a young age?

"The one and only. Magena I’d guess." Something grated against her nerves as the woman spoke. Maybe her own feelings just wanting to rush this meeting along. Or something she just wasn’t picking up on yet.

"I’m just as surprised that you came. So we share that at least, but," Leaning back into the booth chair before she tried to cut the chance for idle chatter. Magena had seemed irritated by her message, and whether it was timing or Lossa’s standing that made it so, she didn’t want to linger on banter. "This isn’t jedi business. Personal business. Mine specifically. And I need help finding someone, or finding someone that can get me leads."

Another time she might have had a good idea of how to start this process. But another time was before she had been a presence in the outer rim using her lightsaber on whatever pirate had stuck their head out long enough to catch its blade.

 

[Magena Dray]

Outfit: XoXo | Equipment: XoXo | Tag: Lossa Aureus ​

The Jedi's subdued attire was a far cry from the vibrant displays Magena herself and many others of their kind tended to favor. It did make her briefly wonder - was Lossa actively downplaying her Zeltron heritage, or was this simply her natural style? Either way, Magena couldn't help but feel a spark of amusement at the other woman's lack of...flair.

"This isn't jedi business. Personal business. Mine specifically. And I need help finding someone, or finding someone that can get me leads."

Magena raised a delicately arched brow, her feline gaze narrowing on the other woman, trying to get a read on her. "Find someone, huh?" She leaned back, steepling her fingers together. Lossa's admission that this wasn't Jedi business had piqued the Zeltron's interest, but that still didn't explain anything.

Was this some kind of moral crusade? Some backdoor play to get at bigger fish in the underworld? A vendetta of some kind? Magena had met plenty of individuals who'd become fed up with the system and decided they were going to take the law into their own hands. Dabble with forces they didn't understand. Few were ever Jedi, but they did pop up from time to time and it almost always ended bloody.

"That's a tall order. The Galaxy's got more hiding holes than a ronto's got fleas...if you don't know where to look, that is. But I'm not a charity, you understand? I don't do favors." Magena said bluntly, finally waving over the barkeep and ordering herself a glass of Corellian Lum. "And the people I...associate with, they don't really take kindly to Jedi. So unless you're lookin' to get yer'self killed, you're going to have to be a lot more specific and maybe give a little tit for tat if you're expecting me to put my neck out on a whim."

​

 

[Lossa Aureus]

Nar Shaddaa - Rusty Rancor
Wayward Jumpsuit and Armor
Lightsaber, Turmoil, Concealed Blaster, Nasty-Stabby, Dual Broken Core Daggers
Skiptown
Magena Dray​

Zeltron's were notorious for their flair. Symbolic in some ways of their hedonistic nature most attributed to them without knowing anything about them. Their home world was a bright and buzzing place of lively energy and welcoming spirit that many found almost impossible to resist once they stepped foot on the ground. It made their world a resort. A getaway from the worries of the galaxy for a while. But the vibrancy and zeal had never quite stuck to Lossa.

She didn't despise it or hate it by any means. And in fact, she was rather outgoing in her own way.

But it reminded her of her parents.

"Find someone, huh?"

"Just one, very small someone.” The smirk leveled at her from Magena had her eyes narrowing as she spoke. A bitterness at the feeling of being inspected that had never been worked out of her system and was only made worse by the urgency of her task. The other Zeltron had what she needed, and that more than anything was keeping her temper in check however. It barely limited the flair of her feelings to simple gestures of annoyance as her hands split apart from each other and balled against the table. And the cross examination of the motive for her request wasn't doing her any favors either.

"That's a tall order. The Galaxy's got more hiding holes than a ronto's got fleas...if you don't know where to look, that is. But I'm not a charity, you understand? I don't do favors." Magena said bluntly, finally waving over the barkeep and ordering herself a glass of Corellian Lum. "And the people I...associate with, they don't really take kindly to Jedi. So unless you're lookin' to get yer'self killed, you're going to have to be a lot more specific and maybe give a little tit for tat if you're expecting me to put my neck out on a whim." [/FONT][/SIZE]

A deep breath in, calming thoughts following behind that draw of air, and slowly out was finished with a slight click of her tongue as she prepared her words.

She wouldn't get her start by being violent and demanding. She had already survived a jedi hunter, if barely and with help. Perhaps the way of the galaxy forcing her to get a backbone and not rely on others once again. Rose colored eyes scanned the tabletop as if organizing her own thoughts before looking at Magena finally.

"I'll burn out those little hidey holes if need be to keep them clear. But if I can do that for someone else's benefit while I am looking, that would make it a little easier." Offering her own solution to the problem as her finger traced a small gash line across the table's surface. "And maybe put you in some good graces as a, finders fee, if you can find me someone wanting to keep those little hidey holes for themselves.”

Deals were always a funny thing. Whether on the dockyard floor, or at the end of a blaster, you could always bargain and wager for just a little bit more. It just depended on how hard you wanted to lean on what your hand had. The scar across the table's surface ended as her hands balled up once again.

"And keeping a baby hidden is more demanding than an adult.” The corners of her mouth curled into a snarl as she leaned into the reason for her search. Hands clenching tight enough to elicit a whine from the material in her gloves. "But I need to find my daughter.”

Anger wasn't the emotion that danced around her. Even subdued as she was trying to keep it, rage backed the need in her voice. The lingering on the final word emphasizing the bitterness of her situation.

 

[Magena Dray]

Outfit: XoXo | Equipment: XoXo | Tag: Lossa Aureus
​

Magena’s gaze flickered, the barest trace of something—sympathy, perhaps—ghosting behind her eyes before vanishing just as quickly. Her nails, meticulously manicured, drummed a slow, deliberate rhythm against the rim of her glass.

“I don’t doubt you’re being truthful,” she said, the flirtatiously casual lilt from earlier falling away as her tone shifted into something cooler, more measured. It was clearer now that all the cards were on the table that Lossa was teetering on the brink of something volatile—desperation, or perhaps something darker—and a misstep could tip her into dangerous territory. “but desperation makes for messy work and since the minute I sat down, you’ve looked like you’re just waiting for the first excuse to pummel someone into the ground.”

She took a slow, deliberate sip before continuing, keeping her movements fluid, unhurried. Beneath all that anger and frustration the woman was touting, Magena saw a familiar ache. One she understood too well. She let her fingers fall still, lips pursing in thought as she took the time to decide if this was really the kind of deal she wanted to make. No. It wasn’t. It wasn’t smart.

Yet here she was, karking herself.

“You want to find your daughter. I understand that. But if your solution is to torch the whole underworld while you’re at it, then all you’re doing is walking straight into an early grave, and I don’t make a habit of betting on losing hands. You get yourself killed before you find her, and all I’m left with is a firestorm I didn’t ask for.”

Magena leaned back in her seat, the subtle tension in her posture at odds with the casualness of her words. The weight of her own messy past was pressing in around her, a sharp reminder of all the deals gone wrong, all the times she’d let herself get dragged in too deep, all of her missed opportunities. Helping Lossa went against her better judgment. She knew it. But it was hard to walk away all the same. The thought of a missing daughter hit too close to home, closer than Lossa would know.

“You want information? So do I. There’s a Zeltron who used to run with the Kessel Revenants and goes by the name Nekana Quane . I need eyes on her. But I can’t afford to go looking myself, the leader of the crew and I have bad blood, bad history…“

She didn’t bother to explain what that all entailed. After all, what mattered now was the offer.

“But you seem like the kind of person who can handle herself in a rough situation, so here’s my offer: you agree to find out what you can about Nekana, and in return, I’ll give you my leads. But—” she raised a finger, the gesture sharp and final, “you leave my name out of it when anyone asks who sent you, and agree that you're going to keep those fires of yours under control—otherwise I walk, and I take my contacts with me.”

​

 

[Lossa Aureus]

Nar Shaddaa - Rusty Rancor
Wayward Jumpsuit and Armor
Lightsaber, Turmoil, Concealed Blaster, Nasty-Stabby, Dual Broken Core Daggers
Skiptown
Magena Dray​

The tone of the conversation shifted quickly. A relief to her in one way, and spiking the anxious energy that wrapped itself around Lossa like a cloak. The flirty tone that even she had likely used finally falling away as Magena weighed her words.

“I don’t doubt you’re being truthful,” she said, the flirtatiously casual lilt from earlier falling away as her tone shifted into something cooler, more measured. It was clearer now that all the cards were on the table that Lossa was teetering on the brink of something volatile—desperation, or perhaps something darker—and a misstep could tip her into dangerous territory. “but desperation makes for messy work and since the minute I sat down, you’ve looked like you’re just waiting for the first excuse to pummel someone into the ground.”

The other measuring how she was feeling drawing the snarl into something that resembled a smile. Not that it likely helped her case in appearing like a lit fuse without a countdown. The mood had kept others from bothering her at least.

"I'm a bit under the gun and I've been disappointed turn after turn with doing things... the proper way.” A slight tilt of her head as if agreeing with something unspoken. Desperation did make for messy work. She'd seen it traveling the Outer Rim prior. Hasty work by pirates and farmers made for shoddy attacks and defense. Magena was likely using a touch of wisdom to speak from experience. Whether personal or witnessed, the knowledge she was sharing was just as much a warning as a reminder.

The need to calm her mind a pressing thing as she let her mind fill in the background of her thoughts with a serene desert. A memory more than a thought that took her feelings and slowly drew them into a dull blade rather than a freshly honed edge. Her eyes never far from each movement Magena made as she continued.

“You want to find your daughter. I understand that. But if your solution is to torch the whole underworld while you’re at it, then all you’re doing is walking straight into an early grave, and I don’t make a habit of betting on losing hands. You get yourself killed before you find her, and all I’m left with is a firestorm I didn’t ask for.”

The reminder of hasty actions and choices usually left the world behind her a difficult one for others to pick up. The worry about the rebuilding of such places though when it came to people that made their living off the suffering of others didn't register like it had when she was trying to keep farmers and the like from meeting the end of a sith blade.

"Yeah. I don't feel like heaping on the dirt to another early grave just yet. Why I asked for help though.” As wry a smile as she could wring from herself and directed to her company as she sighed. Time was going to be the limiting factor on this whole task. Loyalty was likely going to be as much a currency as credits were. And she was once again starting with nothing in a world well outside of her understanding. Eyes darting up when Magena spoke again.

“You want information? So do I. There’s a Zeltron who used to run with the Kessel Revenants and goes by the name Nekana Quane . I need eyes on her. But I can’t afford to go looking myself, the leader of the crew and I have bad blood, bad history…“

She didn’t bother to explain what that meant. After all, what mattered now was the offer.

“But you seem like the kind of person who can handle herself in a rough situation, so here’s my offer: you agree to find out what you can about Nekana, and in return, I’ll give you my leads. But—” she raised a finger, the gesture sharp and final, “you leave my name out of it when anyone asks who sent you, and agree that you're going to keep those fires of yours under control—otherwise I walk, and I take my contacts with me.”

Her brows rose slightly at the mention of another Zeltron woman.

Amusement at her own silent wonderings taking the edge off her emotions noticeably as she leaned back finally and unclenched her hands. Information and loyalty. Keep her temper in check and she would get more information. More contacts. More potential leads. That was something she could do. Or at least would give her a focus for all the pent up energy she had. Yeah. She could do this.

"I'll get you what I can and send it your way. And,” Hands in a placating gesture as she grinned. "I won't mention you. Just an aspiring trouble maker looking for inspiration and the right people. And, I'll keep the fires controlled.” As much as she wanted to let loose, that wouldn't help give her a direction.

The implications of her words settled over her like a heavy net. Nerves settling across her entire being at the wonder of how far she'd be willing to sacrifice morals for the completion of her task. Forsaking everything that she had at one time held up to herself as a measuring stick. Had wanted so desperately to adhere to and help make the galaxy a safer place for everyone. But even on a planet she had thought was safe, there were people that brought with them trouble.

The image of her daughter smiling up at her as she slept burning out that wonder as quickly as it had crossed her mind.

"Thank you, Magena. I owe you a lot.”

The galaxy and the people in it could burn around her so long as Zeriana was back in her arms. Could plead for her help after she had found her little star in a dark galaxy. After Zeriana was safe and sound. Alive and healthy. Lossa would not forsake her daughter for her own comfort like her parents had to her.

The rage settled from a buzzing energy to a purposed energy. Giving her clarity to focus as she began to mentally plan her next move where cloudy ideas and aimless feelings had been.

Donning her helmet, the seal hissed shut. The visor slowly fixing itself over Magena as the systems came online. There probably wasn't a lot she could offer the other woman. Walking the underworld as she had for what was likely countless years, the woman probably knew far better than she how to get what she wanted. But it felt wrong to just leave without something offered after even what had been offered.

"You need help with a problem, call me.”