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  • Painted

    Masked. That was she was. A masked entity of decay and whithering that never ceased to lurk among the shadows. A cloaked figure that roamed the Empire restlessly, waiting for any open opportunity given ... And right now she was here, in this bar. A stinkhole that others worshipped, coming here regularly as if their pathetic lives had been based on drink. They disgusted her with their petty talk of training and Jedi; just one look at them made her convulse in repulsion. All of them would soon lose themselves in the effects of alcohol, leaving themselves in a state of weakness.

    But here she sat, in a darkened corner as she brooded over these thoughts of hers. Life was a simple game that each player played; one wrong move and the other takes your turn.

  • #2

    With a slight smirk, Salem glanced to the pale face in the corner. From her thoughts, he detect that he and this woman held the same sentiments on the matter of alcohol.

    "Disss-gusssting isn't it?"


    • #3

      Disss-gusssting isn't it? Belial glanced in the direction of the voice, arching an eyebrow.

      "Yes, it is,"

      She replied softly, then casted her eyes downwards.


      • #4

        He sat up stiffly from his hunched position and slipped out with one stride into the fray of tables before making his way across towards the girl with the shadow smile.

        "Sss-alem Ave, And you arrre?"


        • #5

          "Mad Hatter at your service, Sir Salem."

          Now she glanced back up at him, silently wondering if he dared to ask why she had only given him her nickname.


          • #6

            "An interrresssting name. Pleassse, do not call me Sssir."

            Salem loomed over her table. The way in which her face was made up intruiged him greatly, as did the background behind her little nickname.

            "If it would not be much trrrouble, would you mind if I joined you? Only the otherrrsss here with their alcohol ... "

            A shudder whirled up his spine.


            • #7

              "Of course you may join me .."

              Belial smirked slightly and brushed a strand of red hair away from her eyes.


              • #8

                With that fluidity of a shadow, he was in the seat across from her at the booth.

                "I have not everrr sss-een you herrre before, missss."


                • #9

                  "Maybe because I usually do not wish to be seen."

                  She canted her head to the side as she watched him. He was ... different from the others.


                  • #10

                    He allowed himself to show a momentary smile.

                    "It sss-eems we ssshare a common dissslike of these ... drrroogs."

                    By this, he was refering to the alcohol drinkers around them.


                    • #11

                      Drogs. It was an interesting name, a term she had never heard before. However, she presumed it meant the patrons that were consuming their beloved alcohol as if there were no tomorrow.

                      "It does indeed."


                      • #12

                        "You arrre not the talkative type either,"

                        Salem hissed a laugh.

                        "Ssso tell me, who isss your Masterrr?"


                        • #13

                          Belial smiled slightly - something that looked rather unusual for her face. The painted corners of her mouth twisted up eerily as her black eyes continued to watch him.

                          "Trace Sha ... And yours?"


                          • #14

                            "Larrran Katerrrn."

                            He returned the smile and it looked just as out of place on his pale lips as it had on hers.


                            • #15

                              "So, how do you like the Empire so far? Do you find the twisted dreams of all to your liking?"

                              She asked this quietly, yet her voice was firm.