Tessellate

[Irkalla]

Hosnian Prime
Capital City - Estaba Residential District

The floor to ceiling windows admitted the predominantly artificial light from the megalopolis into her penthouse bedroom; bathing the mostly white interior of the lavish chamber in a multitude of hues and flickering panes of radiance. Neon refractions from slow-moving advertisement signs and highrise embellishment caught the crystalline decorations mounted on encased pedestals, interspersed throughout the boudoir, painting fragmented geometric shapes across the otherwise ungarnished walls.

Steam emerged from the refresher, billowing out into the grand closet containing Irkalla's extensive wardrobe, and twisted about her ankles tenuously as she emerged from what was really more of a spa than a room dedicated simply to personal hygiene. A small, silver orb floated next to her towel-wrapped frame, emitting the voice of her mother, as she rifled through the dresses nearest the door. "Your father and I were thinking of visiting you, assuming we can manage to leave Corellia. Do you think Galant will let you off work?"

"I doubt it. Torrent has seen an influx of customers lately. If I'm not singing, he is begging me to do overtime behind the bar." Irkalla replied distractedly, pulling a strappy black dress from a neatly organized row of ensembles matching in shade. In truth, she was off today and she could pretty much manipulate the proprietor of the nightclub into giving her whatever she wanted. Entertaining her 'parents' for a week was not something she wanted to be doing; considering they'd probably try to talk her into more rewarding careers with their pharmaceutical company and cast a disapproving eye on her lustrous lifestyle.

"Well, I'm sure we could find something to do. Things are not good here, Kalla." Her mother replied with no small measure of worry in her voice. Irkalla shoved the dress back into its place and instead opted for a racy, crimson dress with a zipper that ran from the low-cut bust to the hem. She smiled, smoothing her hands over the slinky but exceedingly soft fabric.

"I've got to go to work. I'll talk to you later. Let me know if you're coming by and... be safe."

Once the call was ended, Irkalla reached up and tapped the glowing blue button on the orb; which then magnetized and flew into its mooring on the wall in the bedroom. She removed and hung her towel on the ornate hook on the back of the refresher door and then slipped into the dress, which hugged her generous hips, fit tight over her taut abdomen, and accentuated her bust just as she would like it to. Matching stilettos and a collection of gilded bangles asymmetrically arranged on one wrist finished her attire.

The plush carpet did not hinder her seductive gait, which carried her to the massive windows overlooking the city. In the distance, the flashing sign of her usual haunt drew the eye with the embossed, azure lettering that overwhelmed the building face above the entrance. She smiled somewhat, bitterly almost, and then headed for the lift that would take her down to the taxi-drive.

Prime Entertainment District

Irkalla emerged from the sleek black taxi after paying her fare, the stubbed point of her heels clicking as they set down on the duracrete. She sashayed past the line of patrons waiting to enter the nightclub and was admitted into the building by the heavily tattooed bouncer. Cold air rushed forward as the twin doors were pried open, raising goosebumps along evenly tanned skin. The thump of the bass was syncopated with her heart, her amber eyes rising to scan the main stage where the Zeltron twins, Evedine and Antre, were currently performing. The female twin's hypnotic vocals combined with her brother's electronic expertise was keeping the dance floor stocked but the primary bar was still slammed.

She stood at the top of a set of stairs that let out onto the principal floor of the establishment, her gaze scanning keenly over the crowd. Like much of the city itself, Torrent was done up in lambent acid hues that moved with unpredictable transience through the clear construction of the tables, fixtures, and decorations of the club itself. The ceiling above oozed with crystal electroliers, that stretched out toward the masses like icy garlands. Almost every hand clutched an artful flute containing varied alcoholic beverages, contributing to the capering of the light as the strobes swiveled over them.

The woman inhaled deeply, finding relaxation in the uncharted chaos of the club itself. Then, she moved down the steps toward where her friend and roommate, Lydia, was currently socializing with a gaggle of handsome patrons in front of the bar.

[Mahrrlee the Bob]

Sweat peppered the air with the smell of music. What does music smell like? Depends. In this case it was funk. Beats bumped bodies and noses in an aggression only known in war. Feet roared on the dance floor, thrashing to the strums of the musical act. Swept in the call from the wild were men from foreign lands and women alike. Those whose alien bodies didn't identify as either also sprawled amidst the primal. Slimy scales slapped against slippery flesh, fuzz and pelts. Hordes clamor by the stage. Young eyes shot out across the room. Lights lamented their leers as the strobe strolled across faces only to reveal momentary gazes. For some it only took a moment. For others the moment was lost to the blur. Star cross lust-ers bundled in the chaos.

Grumbles and grunts grabbed failed dances to the bar for more juice to reinvigorate their nights. A Bothan gal scamper through the web of swinging appendages in a short leg scamper after being ignored by her crush. Across the floor a Twi'lek man whispered in friendly Dug's ear pointing at a strange blue girl whom kept glancing over. Her score of human female friends were marked with tattoos that resembled a local bike gang's insignia also gander over as the Twi'lek pointed. One of the girls winked. Iddy-bidy black eyes hidden behind fur captured the chaos frame by frame from above.

Wookiees could grew up to 2.3 meters. This one in particular nearly maxed out at 2.2 meters, and was comfortable with his head and shoulders over the cluster. For as long as he traveled the sea of stars, he'd often been the tallest in a room. While the galaxy was vast, it's people seemed small to him. But, they knew how to have fun.

Clutched in his hand was a bottle. It wasn't his first.

A purr belched from his throat in a grog after he gulped down another mouthful. The taste was hoppy and sour. He liked that combo. It kept him alive. Alongside him rose another beer of the same kind, hoisted in the air as a trophy. Small five blue fingers wrapped around the bottle like a claw clutches a beast for a feast. The grip swung with the arm, some of the bubbly fuzz toppling out the top. Hidden beside the Wookiee under the headline of the jubilance was the Ryloth native lady he'd known for years. She had a mangled grin smudging across her face. Natural blush flushed her cheeks as her lazy lids slumped slanted over her gape into the jigging throng. A small Wookiee roar assured her with a nudge. His gnarly mittens clutched her shoulder, tugging her in tight as he lifted his own drink.

Her eyes fluttered up at him.

"To Abo!"

[Aura Vao]

The beer bottle flipped bottom up. Cyan fingers poked out the fingerless glove gauntlets. Each digit barely held the long neck bottle up. Buzzing foam fumbled from the glass drink. Down into her hatchet, her neck bulged as the swig chugged along. Her neck was lean. Her body was lean. Little food sat in her belly. It was flat but not strong. Workouts didn't get her in good shape, meals did. She chugged on. Gulps gushed through her. The golden headdress sparked in the strobe light flares. She shimmered. Sweat sparkled on her skin. The shine showed on her exposed stomach. A black crop top long sleeve clutched her. The arms didn't reach her wrist.

A fashionable touch fit to her liberal style. Leggings gripped her too. They were black too. With her dark tattoos, sangria lips, nose piercing and black boots, she looked more ready to steal than to dance. Yet, and still, few patrons bothered to observe the signs. Suggestive looks gathered in her direction through the night. Comments festered on her body. Each pass by a cluster of boys sent them into a fluster after a flippant hand waft them away. More words would likely come from them but her furious furball friend followed not far behind. Silent, disturbed, reflection ensued. The routine clubgoer experience had become a drill in the two's night outs. But, she never understood the incessant need for men to be shot down.

She was barely interested in men.

Much less so on a night out.

The last guzzle clumped in her gullet as she gasp and smacked her lips. A beam bore up at her Wookiee sidekick, elbowing him. The drinking buddies competed regularly. He'd always win. She'd always get close. Tonight, they were 4 drinks in. She'd counted. She always did. The prize was a foot rub, and putting the behemoth on his knees was one of her favorite things to do. Once before, she'd won a prize in a dart match, and had him cleaning her rooms on tour for months. A number of pictures were taken during those times. Never would the walking carpet get to live it down. Between her index and middle, she twirled the longneck bottle like a knife in an assassin's hand. Nearby a near empty table without any chairs gleam back at her. In a clunk, she slopped the bottle on the table and reached for the Wookiee's paws. One tug, two tugs, three, and she dragged him further into the dance pit.

If four drinks wasn't enough to mark him with some shame, his two left feet would do the trick. She was sure of it, which is why she laughed like a giddy little school girl as her pull yanked him into the depth of the twirling, prancing abyss of the nightclub.

[Irkalla]

"There you are! I was wondering when you'd grace us with your presence." Lydia said cheerfully, raising the volume of her voice to temporarily overcome the din of the nightclub. Immediately, several sets of eyes swiveled toward Kalla as she concluded her approach, her hand extending to accept a shot from one of their regular tag alongs, Treva. She knocked it back, with as much grace one could apply to the task, and then set the empty glass aside in favor of having her hands free. She slid an arm around Lydia's waist, turning her amber eyes across the roving crowds on the dance floor.

"You going to dance?" One of the guys asked her; blonde, built like a typical rich kid with little drive to find an occupation and too much time to work out. A hint of a smile curved her lips and she promptly disentangled herself from her bestie. He offered his elbow and they were off, submersing themselves in the crush of patrons and the almost too loud thump of the bass speakers. It only took about five minutes to lose her dance partner to the masses, her body carried by the current of the music.

She was bumped along, her hips twisting and her arms twirling expertly in what space was allowed. There was something so freeing about letting outside forces guide her this way. something about the broken ways in which she encountered the gazes of those that surrounded her. Her back brushed against something furred and she spun, tilting her head back to look the immensely tall alien in the eyes. She grinned cheekily. "Sorry, love." She offered genuinely, passing a slow wink toward his blue hued compatriot.

[Mahrrlee the Bob]

His paws were up. His feet were spaced. His knees were bent. He looked ready to tackle somebody, but with that slight hip sway to the music's downbeat, it was possible he was dancing. Context was the only thing saving him from looking like a fool. The Wookiee could barely keep rhythm with his partner. She was versed in the arts as a kid. Aura danced before she knew words. Music rolled through her like blood. Her joints soften and eased her in thrust, footwork and back bending fun as the music roared through the crowd. Yet, she was ever aware. The young furball? Not so much.

When he bumped the black haired woman, he didn't even notice. Mahrrlee was always big - compared to humans - and they'd always bump into him. He led a clumsy life without little apology. Because, when it count, he was an ace. So, the only way he knew he hit the girl was from Aura's reaction:

"Ya trynna to get on my man?"

The Wookiee rolled his eyes and turned around. He bowed his head in a small nod of apology. Even out the side of his eye, he could see the rich kid looking a bit nervous. No one wanted it to escalate, well beside Aura. She lived for trouble.

[Aura Vao]

Aura was short. It was an advantage. Her companion's wide reach was too high.

She snuck under him. Then, stood before him, speaking up some more. "Especially dancin' with that kinda guy." Her thumb gestured at the rich tubby boy. Her voice wasn't in the least bit aggressive. It was small and only rough with the diction. Even her face was misleading; she had a smirk plastered across her lips. However, it was the eyes that gave away her joy. She stared into the black haired girl's face begging for a fun response.

It was true, Aura did love to stir it up.