Jibrielle Abunai
Apr 6th, 2004, 07:59:59 PM
Jibrielle was getting desperate. The fate of the Harbingers of Shadow would be placed in her hands when Hob passed away, and she still had months of training ahead of her. Not to mention that the other members of the small fraction had seemed to ceased their activities.
With a sigh, she picked up the hand mirror on her bed and looked in it. A girl with flawless, pale skin and dark blue hair stared back. Counterfeit. Would someone so vain and conscientious of her apperance succeed as a leader? Or would it be her downfall, leading to the ultimate destruction of the group she was given control of?
Stop it. There's a reason why Hob chose you.
Ah yes, Hob. Her loving respect, nurtured over the years, had turned into a desperate infactuation. A silly smile spread across her face as she flopped down on her bed. Grabbing one of her pillows, she began to play with the one of the frayed strings that had been pulled out of the design. She remembered the first time she confessed her feelings (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=20946) to Hob, and how he played her heart strings like a practiced violinist.
And after all this time ... you so much haven't even looked at me, save for my training.
And then a thought struck her. What if she made him notice her? Suddenly every muscle in her body went rigid as she realized the danger of that possibility. Did she dare try it?
****
The shrouded figure moved nimbly through the crowded streets of Correllia. It was here where one could find anything anywhere, and for reasonably low, cheap prices. The only catch was making sure that the products weren't already tampered with.
Stepping into a club, she moved steathily across the floor towards the barkeep. She suspected that in a club the drugs would be overflowing, and the transaction would go unnoticed. Settling down a stool, Jibrielle lowered her hood, revealing lustrous, brown locks that spilled over the black robe. She had finally washed out the blue dye in her hair, thinking that perhaps Hob would enjoy the change, but kept her scars concealed.
"Hey, good lookin'."
Bingo.
"How 'bout a few deathsticks?"
She turned her head, looking at the young man who held up a few of them.
"Perhaps you can help me with what I'm looking for. Glitterstim is a very popular spice, I hear. Just about everyone who's someone has this."
All she had to do was pretend to be the average teenager looking for their daily fix, and the sellers would oblige to their customers. After all, without the addicts, where would the business be?
The drug dealer nodded before glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Carefully he reached inside of his pocket and pulled out a small packet.
"It's gonna cost you," he warned. "How much you got?"
Without answering him, Jibrielle snatched the bag out of his hand aggressively. When he opened his mouth to protest, she reached out with the Force. Pulling the classic mind-trick, she thought, and grinned.
"There is no spice dealing. You will let me walk away."
He nodded dumbly, his eyes glazened over as he repeated. Satisfied, she stood and slipped the packet into a pocket she had sewn inside of her robe.
****
Hob had a taste for finery. So, doing everything in her power, Jibrielle had reserved a table for the both of them at one of Coruscant's finest opera theatres. The two sat at a respectable distance from the stage, and while the first performer was on, a waiter came to take their orders.
"I'll have a glass of Alderaain wine, please."
Simple, elegant, and refined. Much like how she was dressed for the special occassion. A crimson dress with a v-neck, and black gloves that went up to her elbows. Her brown hair hung loose and a pearl necklace adorned her neck. For once, Jibrielle thought, she looked like a true young lady.
With a sigh, she picked up the hand mirror on her bed and looked in it. A girl with flawless, pale skin and dark blue hair stared back. Counterfeit. Would someone so vain and conscientious of her apperance succeed as a leader? Or would it be her downfall, leading to the ultimate destruction of the group she was given control of?
Stop it. There's a reason why Hob chose you.
Ah yes, Hob. Her loving respect, nurtured over the years, had turned into a desperate infactuation. A silly smile spread across her face as she flopped down on her bed. Grabbing one of her pillows, she began to play with the one of the frayed strings that had been pulled out of the design. She remembered the first time she confessed her feelings (http://sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=20946) to Hob, and how he played her heart strings like a practiced violinist.
And after all this time ... you so much haven't even looked at me, save for my training.
And then a thought struck her. What if she made him notice her? Suddenly every muscle in her body went rigid as she realized the danger of that possibility. Did she dare try it?
****
The shrouded figure moved nimbly through the crowded streets of Correllia. It was here where one could find anything anywhere, and for reasonably low, cheap prices. The only catch was making sure that the products weren't already tampered with.
Stepping into a club, she moved steathily across the floor towards the barkeep. She suspected that in a club the drugs would be overflowing, and the transaction would go unnoticed. Settling down a stool, Jibrielle lowered her hood, revealing lustrous, brown locks that spilled over the black robe. She had finally washed out the blue dye in her hair, thinking that perhaps Hob would enjoy the change, but kept her scars concealed.
"Hey, good lookin'."
Bingo.
"How 'bout a few deathsticks?"
She turned her head, looking at the young man who held up a few of them.
"Perhaps you can help me with what I'm looking for. Glitterstim is a very popular spice, I hear. Just about everyone who's someone has this."
All she had to do was pretend to be the average teenager looking for their daily fix, and the sellers would oblige to their customers. After all, without the addicts, where would the business be?
The drug dealer nodded before glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Carefully he reached inside of his pocket and pulled out a small packet.
"It's gonna cost you," he warned. "How much you got?"
Without answering him, Jibrielle snatched the bag out of his hand aggressively. When he opened his mouth to protest, she reached out with the Force. Pulling the classic mind-trick, she thought, and grinned.
"There is no spice dealing. You will let me walk away."
He nodded dumbly, his eyes glazened over as he repeated. Satisfied, she stood and slipped the packet into a pocket she had sewn inside of her robe.
****
Hob had a taste for finery. So, doing everything in her power, Jibrielle had reserved a table for the both of them at one of Coruscant's finest opera theatres. The two sat at a respectable distance from the stage, and while the first performer was on, a waiter came to take their orders.
"I'll have a glass of Alderaain wine, please."
Simple, elegant, and refined. Much like how she was dressed for the special occassion. A crimson dress with a v-neck, and black gloves that went up to her elbows. Her brown hair hung loose and a pearl necklace adorned her neck. For once, Jibrielle thought, she looked like a true young lady.