Trooper

Descending Fight

Kessel: 13 BBY
Marg Krim's Palace
Ryn Alera

    Ryn looked at the red dress disdainfully. Feylin had brought it to her earlier that morning. It was one whole piece thankfully, but every inch of the dress was covered in dripping gold beading. A large golden headpiece with sapphires hidden in it was next to the dress.

    She let out a sigh and changed into it swiftly. It took a few tries before she got the headpiece on correctly. There was a knock at the door, before it opened. Feylin stepped in, furrowing her brows.

    "The headpiece is on wrong," she pointed out. Feylin moved in front of Ryn and quickly adjusted a few parts of it. Ryn surveyed the green twi'lek's black dress. She grimaced at the few patches that were bare, save pieces of black netting.

    "Marg Krim is terrible at picking outfits," Ryn said.

    "Actually, he didn't choose ours. Those Falleens did."

    A gnawing sense of dread filled her stomach. Ryn pushed it down quickly. "That's odd."

    "A bit. Come on. We're supposed to dance tonight as well."

    Ryn rolled her eyes and followed Feylin out of the room. The sound of voices and music reached her montrals as they neared the dance hall. All sorts of exotic foods covered the tables. Protocol droids wandered around serving drinks and hor' dourves. Other slaves were dancing, singing, and serving the numerous guests.

    The Falleens were nowhere in sight, however. Ryn let out a small sigh of relief. Feylin led her towards the front of the room, where Marg Krim and several of his guests were waiting. "At last, they arrive," he said with a sly grin. "Gentlemen, I have a treat for you tonight. One of these slaves used to dance for Jabba the Hutt."

    Ryn felt her expression falter for a minute. She quickly plastered the empty look in its place once again. "Our two esteemed Black Sun ambassadors requested these two personally." Marg Krim added. "Go," he waved the two of them away. "I have other guests in need of entertaining." He pointed to a clear section in front of the band.

    Feylin and Ryn bowed, then quickly made their way over towards the band. "We only have to dance until they're all drunk," Feylin whispered. "After that, we all scatter until tomorrow."

    "And how long will that take?"    

    "Not long, hopefully."

    Ryn broke away from Feylin and took up her spot on the opposite end of the dancing area. The band struck up a tune and the two of them began dancing. Ryn let the old rhythm flow back into her feet. She twirled and leaped around, with Feylin following suit.

    She screwed her eyes shut against the leering faces hovering all around. The band began to play faster, so she danced faster. At last, Ryn cracked her eyes open. A sea of faces stretched around her. She stumbled in shock, toppling to the ground.

    The group of people began laughing and jeering. Feylin paused her dance, but someone shouted at her to continue. She cast a nervous look towards Ryn, then obeyed. Ryn remained on the floor, trying to ground herself.

    She glanced up briefly. Her eyes widened in surprise as a brown haired man faded back into the crowd. Ryn jumped to her feet, hope sparking in her chest. She pushed through the throng of people. Several of them called insults after her as she brushed past them.

    The man appeared again and paused, talking to another woman. Ryn skidded to a stop, her face falling. She rubbed her eyes and blinked back tears. Of course it wasn't Jess. Why would I think that? He's...he's gone.