Heavy Rain (Azureth)

[Dutch]

As the shuttle slid smoothly through the torrents of rain that fell from the sky, Jessoin peered out of the plate glass window to gaze at his looming destination. The Sith stood, one arm propped up against the wall next to the window as the other rested at his hip. One of the largest mega-structures of the capitol city of Farlhu, all bright lights and imposing Farghul architecture was his destination. Massive gargoyles of sphinx-like creatures clung to every corner and ledge, mouths and eyes spewing the waters collected by the building's gutter system. Appropriately ominous for the lair of the infamous broker 'Fierfek'.

An elegant looking manse crowned the mega-structure, the same gargoyles littered across the outside. The landing pad that jut from the east side of the mansion was carved of the same stone as the building, with two of the largest gargoyles Jess had seen yet astride the walkway that would lead to a large set of metal doors. With a low hum the unmarked shuttle would swoop around to hover just above the landing pad before a trio of support struts whirred out to cradle the ship.

The exit ramp slid smoothly from under the bay doors as they opened. It landed on the stone with a light clank before Jessoin stalked out from the shuttle. His long, slightly green hands would wave gently to cast a weak shield above his head. The heavy rain would fall around him in a perfect circle, just enough to keep the Sith's custom tailored outfit dry. The crisply ironed pants were of a finely woven black material, with an overcoat of matching materials. The silken tunic that graced his pale, scarred skin was a brilliant emerald in color. The gold buckles at his custom made leather boots matched those at his belt and the straps of his overcoat.

Eyes even brighter green than his tunic peered up at the manse before him. They would almost seem to glow in the gloom cast from the crashing rain. All hushed voices in the galaxy's underworld had whispered the name Fierfek when it came to the information trade. Even having details on the Sith Order that none outside of it could possibly knew. Hopefully he had finally found the one to give him dirt on a specific Sith, his own mistress. When every other broker had come to a dead end so far, the Zelosian had begun to wonder if he ever would gain any grounds against the Darth.

At the doors of the manor now, the Sith whistled low and slow as his eyes took in the intricate brass carvings scrawled across them. He would bring a hand forward before banging his knuckles against one of the brass plates. The acoustics of the door rang surprisingly loud, as if they had become one massive gong. Jessoin would square his stance, arms moving behind his back as he leered ahead. He wondered if the infamous broker themselves would answer, or if Fierfek would have servants?

[Azureth]

Footsteps echoed through the rather gargantuan central chamber, which served as the personal office of a rather shady figure. Shady by reputation, at least.

In place of a voluminous Hutt, a seasoned vetran or smooth and sultry rogue was a fragile, mostly Arkanian young girl, whose movements added a certain excitement to the soundscape of rain and the very feint hums of city traffic. The stark white of her hair contrasted horribly with the pale green of the walls, a similar colour to the bile of a small-ish base human. Which in turn hosted an assortment of elaborate grey, gold and green furnishings, a familiar colour scheme which prompted a deep seeded need to redecorate. Though it is safe to say, her bare feet were not repeatedly hitting the cold grey floor for want of redecoration. Adriael was pacing, with her eyes positively glued to her precious datapad. Her day had started with this datapad, before moving on to the choosing of her apparel (a nice and mostly modest blue-grey gown, suited to her somewhat formal dealings of the day), her various and somewhat distinguished clients (including two crime lords and a merchant prince), settling on a hopeless staring contest with one of those space-awful gargoyles before finding themselves back on the datapad and the dot point danger. It seemed more dealings with the Order were at hand.

Running a pale hand through her slightly mussed hair she couldn't help but sigh, gliding to her desk and placing her livelihood trusty datapad upon the silver surface, which for once was not at all cluttered. In fact entire dwelling was almost entirely clutter free, as if the chaotic brewing had not been stationary here for the last week. The habits of a dutiful daughter hadn't stopped kicking in, not even since the death of her mentor. So naturally, she had done a great deal of decluttering on the day of her imminent departure. It also served as an entirely too effective way to take her mind off her impending, unnerving client.

Even with the knowledge she had, she was hardly confident. Indeed it seemed the information this man wanted was information she alone could likely get hold of for him...but dealings with the force users of the dark kind were always stressful. Unstable, too. You never quite knew what they were capable of.

Unless you had a datapad detailing their every exploit. That was a sure fire way to know who to fear.

It was all she could do not to go over the information again, just so be sure. Just to be ready. Approaching the entrance hall reluctantly, she was beginning to regret sending the majority of her guard to make ready the ship. Though a few stayed behind to guard the door.

Electric-coloured eyes flicking to the high ceilings of this old-style dwelling, she was halfway through a deep and supposedly calming inhale when she heard the door.

Which Orren, one of her few remaining elaborately armoured personal guard, promptly opened, revealing a sharply dressed man. Zelosian, with tendencies towards extravagance, highly unstable, charismatic, Fiefek didn't even have to look at him to know these things. They'd been whispered to her, naturally, her first impression was an influenced one. Adriael wondered why the man, Jession, was not soaked from the pouring rain that endured outdoors, though it was not Adriael's time to ask pointless questions. Rather it was time for Fierfek to do her job.

Stiffly making her way towards the door, from her position parallel to them, she motioned for the somehow dry and rather strangely handsome man to enter her abode.

"Jession Zarander," she greeted him in her soft spoken manner, not a question, as he perfectly fit the description. Bringing her own gaze from being somewhat analytic to frankly meeting his shockingly vivid eyes with her own. Eyes only slightly less vivid, and a striking blue at that. "Do come in. We shall proceed to my office, if you don't mind. Just this way." Half a greeting, half an instruction left to echo in a hall far too large for it's owner. Business was for the office alone. Even though the walls had ears, at least these sickly green ones were her own. Not barbed with the malign intention of her enemies, or she believed.

A belief worth questioning.

[Dutch]

Jessoin stepped in with long strides. The Zelosian leered as a predator would at the guard who opened the door. The air was stagnant, no scent of any Force sensitives nearby. This Fierfek could clearly afford up to date equipment for her soldiers. Their armor and weapons looked new, and the various men and women carried themselves as only veterans could. Jess' ever vivid green eyes moved slowly around the entrance hall, taking in the dated decorations. His eyes met a pale, young woman's. The one who greeted and welcomed him. That alone gave away her true identity. His smile would slide widely over his lips, giving a small bow in greeting.

"Tsk tsk... you would think one as wealthy and infamous as Fierfek would have better taste..."

The Sith would croon, acting as if he hadn't pegged the girl for who she was. He would stop at an end table, gazing down at the various baubles perched upon it. His long pale fingers would pick up a tiny glass replica of Farrfin and hold it up to peer through the painted glass. Jessoin would tilt his head slightly before placing the globe back within its silver bracket. Still smiling he continued to move slowly through the hall, humming lightly as his fingers probed and plucked and explored around.

"The exterior is classic Farrfinish... I must admit I do like the gargoyles. Very reminiscent of many Sith worlds I've been to. This interior though... most outdated. Near twenty years I'd say?"

He would pause at a small ceramic sculpture. Jessoin would pick it up gingerly, an intricate and dainty Twi'lek woman in mid-dance. The Sith would turn from the mantle it had been retrieved from, slow steps bringing him closer to the hoary girl. His eyes would greedily dip to take her in, pegging her to be perhaps early twenties. Yet something else pointed more towards late teens. A child more than anything, her wide blue eyes betrayed her attempt to hide her innocence.

With a flick of his wrist Jessoin tossed the ceramic statue towards the girl's feet. The trinket sailed through the air, tumbling gently as it fell. Just a hair's width before it would have smashed into the ground and shattered, a tug of the Force brought the statuette to flip back to his awaiting palm. The Sith would grin mischievously as he channeled the Force once again to drift the trinket back to the mantle where it belonged. Jessoin laughed lightly and shrugged with a single shoulder.

"Just in case there were any underlying doubts to what stands before you, little dove..."

[Azureth]

To the ear of Adriael, there seemed a sickening quality to the tone in Jession's voice. A condescending croon, it was difficult for the pale girl not to react from her human nature. Erratic, he'd been not minutes in the building yet already the guards were jittery. In fact Orren, her senior most guard and at times adviser, stood with gritted teeth, his dark and armoured hand on his trusty rifle. Aggression that didn't fade,  even before a reassuring smile on the girl's part.

"Taste doesn't really come into it, it's more a matter of time and priorities." Fierfek offered this much to the conversation distantly (which seemed an odd mix of small talk and mutual appraisal) as she in turn observed the predatory man,  as frozen as the gargoyles all excepting her wandering gaze. 

Of course he likes the gargoyles. Adriael thought, an illumination of sorts. They were both malicious, menacing and utterly predatory in look and nature. A perfect match, the gloomy gargoyles to the erratic man fixated on fondling her furnishings. 

True, the last time her mentor had redecorated was the same year she'd come into the world, before his own world had been ever so shaken by tiny footsteps and softer smiles. Was it that easy to tell? How was this Sith an expert on Farrifin style and culture? What was there to gain from this behavior? All questions, no answers. Though she gave one of her own, taking a step towards an empty destination. It's called pacing. Habits. Even Fierfek has them.

 They grey floor soon again felt her footsteps, as for a moment her eyes cast to the ground. Nineteen years. One since he'd gone. Would the grief ever fade? 

"Yes. Near twenty exactly, although I don't quite see-" Adriael was about to bring the subject back to business, with her swift and many tracked mind, before her words were stifled by a gasp that left her own lips. Accompanied by a sudden movement backwards, her hands brought in front of her body. All involuntary. 

The behaviour itself shouldn't have been unexpected. After all, Jession was written to be a vicious and erratic man with a flair for the dramatic, and her own observations amidst their dealings in the manor had proved that all the more. The tossing about of the much hated Twi'Lek statue, the blatant display of effortless power was as much as expected as it was spontaneous. Equally fascinating and frustrating.

But if he were threatening me, would he not have broken it? It was with this in mind to which she put her guards at ease, passing them with soft words as she circled the room to approach the Sith before her. The client. The other supporting theory against his harming her was exactly that, he wanted something from her. Something others of her field had not been able to find.

Still, she was afraid. Was it present amidst the slight annoyance in her eyes, as she stood near the Sith, a glass end table away from him. The precise length was exactly that, she could have touched him if she wanted. Though why would she? Her hands were pre-occupied curling behind her back and her eyes were slight with curiosity and frustration. Adriael and Fierfek had places to be in the next few days. A charity gala. An important drop. The probability of reaching these destinations had lessened significantly since this appointment had been conjured. Her Fierfek bravado was wearing thin.

"My information is all the affirmation that is needed, though the display fits in nicely with your profile I suppose. As much as I dislike that statuette there is no need to assist me in redecoration," she spoke, with speed, her electric blue gaze directly focused on his own eyes. What message was that to send? For it was no act of defiance, she wasn't claiming not to fear. Rather, she was curious to see his reaction. Frustrated with his nonchalance and utter disregard for her wishes. Yet, he seemed confident, a quality Fierfek was somewhat lacking. The aggression in the air was difficult enough to process, Jessions' very presence sparked caution. Resentment. The Farrafin residence and force wielding clients had gone awry once. Adriael wasn't ready for a repeat. Not yet.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke what she thought to be reason on presumably deaf ears.

"Mister Zarander, I confess I'd prefer this day didn't end in a slew of corpses, as I have places to be, far from here," Fierfek held her hands behind her back, fists clenching slightly at his antics. As fascinating as he was, the very look in his eyes reminded her of a certain men who'd tried certain things. Such audacity, and flair. Combined with his display and strange words...No one was at ease. Motioning to the tense guards she continues, "We'd perhaps be best to move rooms. The decor is just as horrifying in the office, trust me, but there are less guards to aggravate. Better for business which it seems must be secon- oh but I am rambling, do excuse me. My preference matters not, I can see that.  I'm well aware of your capabilities. Well aware of the position I am in. At your leisure."

A place she wasn't really enjoying, to say the least.

[Dutch]

Jessoin had kept a wary eye on Fierfek as she stepped carefully closer. He could catch the scent of her perfume around the same moment her presence in the Force pressed near. The Sith eventually turned away, his steps lead back to one of the grand windows. Lightning would flash, and the storm would seem to become heavier as thunder rolled from the heavens. As the girl spoke Jess would listen curiously at the way she spoke more than her words. That was one thing Renata had done well to taught her apprentice, to listen for tone and inflection. To sense their emotion through diction and pacing. His attempts were broken by the mere clumsiness of Fierfek's word choice.

"Mister Zarander..."

The Sith would whisper. Anything the girl said after that, Jessoin did not hear. He would chuckle softly as acidic green eyes gazed out into the torrent. Without even knowing of her suggestion to leave the parlor, the Zelosian would remain perfectly still with arms at his sides. Slowly he would tilt his head, neck popping audibly as Jess inhaled slowly.

"My father... was 'Mister Zarander'..." Jessoin started, still as a statue as another flash of lightning was followed by more thunder. "Was the sole heir to a merchant legacy: A fate to be mine, had the Jedi not taken me. Good thing too, as the life of a spacer isn't quite as glamorous as the holos seem. Constantly struggling to make ends meet, never having a true home, worrying if pirates will raid... Nothing but fear, blood and toil..."

This time there would be no visible lightning as the loudest crack of thunder yet caused a couple of Fierfek's trinkets and baubles to clink. Slowly the Sith turned away from the window, the skies outside darkening as the heavens unleashed fully. Rain would splash angrily against the looming glass windows behind Jessoin's back, lighting illuminating his frame as he began to move closer to Fierfek. He would let the darkside exude out from around him, almost as if the very air around the Zelosian would drop in temperature.

Do I..." The Sith would croon as he approached with languid strides. His gaze would begin to harden, eyes gleaming darkly. "... look like..." Another flash of lightning, and for the briefest of moments Jessoin's green iris' would be replaced with blood red. Only to return to their glowing emerald as thunder followed. "... a merchant?" Jessoin would finish asking, now standing just before the pale girl. He would hold his head up arrogantly, piercing gaze looking down at her.

"My Lord... is more fitting for Sith, don't you think?"

[Azureth]

The mannerisms of her client were almost theatrical, the room, no doubt the world, seemed naught but a colossal stage for the Zelosian to manipulate as he would. With such conviction too, it wasn't something Fierfek could quite get a handle on. 

There was much of course that she suspected and few things that she knew. The use of the force to set the harrowing mood, a balance of luck and intuition to speak with the flow of the storm. The confidence, or was it arrogance, exuding from Jession Zarander...Suspicion and knowledge however, did nothing to lesson the physical reaction of fear that quickened in her body.

Still, she nodded as to set her rigid guards at ease, wishing she herself could sink into the wall as they seemed to master. Having the intense negative attentions of the Sith was not exactly forefront on the list of her desires. Stiff and frozen, the girl could only watch with patched guesses as to his own. Wants. And fear, of course, the rise of a poisonous concoction in her lower stomach as she tenatively stepped back. Listening intensely as she always did.

What he wanted, she assumed, was the reaction she gave, although it was nothing she could control. Even her mind was torn between reason and fear, half preaching the reason of mutual benefit, half screaming instincts as primal as fight or flight. 

The ambience of course contributed to the chaos, expertly exploited by the Sith  Lord and his monologue consisting of tidbits she mostly already knew of his father, the self importance that managed to grate on her nerves even as he frightened her somewhat.. Rain fell, far heavier than it had the whole day, aggressive in it's beating of the building to a fault. Lightning stuck at the appropriate moments, thunder following and shaking the glass with its tenacity.

The broker found her pulse a little fast for her liking, as the colour seemed to darken in her face as he approached, becoming somewhat grey in complexion.

It was awfully curious. As curious as bearing witness to a three way speeder crash, or the slow and deliberate blade across the throat and to watch it tear. Vanity. Was that really the sole reason behind his words? Surely not? Asserting dominance? It was simply, and frightingly curious, her murky oceanic eyes never quite leaving his figure throughout the entire ordeal.

Thankfully, as he approached, words came and they came with a semblance of clarity. Bracing her hand, prone to the slightest shakes, on the sickly coloured wall, there was an attempt to look him in the eye.

The red, blood red eyes. Even for a moment it was a deeper fear than she'd quite imagined. A theoretical fear, as of course he wouldn't kill her as she had wanted he wanted. Something, he wanted. Closer, he stepped, and it still made little sense. The reasoning...

Though, his eyes. That emerald and utterly penetrating gaze, yes, they made sense.

"My mistake, Lord Zarander." For not playing to your vanity. Irritation and a semblance of a scare were not a pleasant mix. "It was unwise of me to be so flippant." Unwise, yes, unthinking. It had been too long since she'd had a Sith at her door. Or not long enough.

Taking a measured step back from the imposing figure, and a slightly shaky breath, the wintry girl persevered with her business overtures. For the sake of professionalism, and perhaps her own vice. Stubbornness. 

"Again I shall suggest that we move into the office. Business such as this is best not left until late," she spoke, still managing an audible softness whilst piercing the sound of the rain. What patience she had, which upon waking seemed infinite, was now infinitesimal, as the darker energies and aura of fear ate at her already freyed nerves. Still, there was some dignity left. Some semblance of normality. "And I am a busy woman, Lord Zarander. I must be off planet in little over an hour."

Perhaps it wasn't best to make her plans known, worth the gamble in her eyes. There was a chance he would the cat would give the mouse a break, a chance he'd pounce to get what he wanted. Of course it would have been easier to give in and let him have his information in his own time. Although that didn't seem an option.