Thread: Beneath With Me [Temptationist x GrinningGentleman]

RE Beneath With You Temptationist x GrinningGentleman The streets of Coruscant's Underground, was notoriously slimy. Not in dirty, or trash, but the people walking it. Countless various species, walking in between each other, rubbing shoulders, but always with a hand on their pockets. Trust was a valuable, and rare commodity, and none shared it on the streets themselves. The stimulation to the eyes, was torturous. Neon lights, flashing, blinking because of bad connection. Young people, waving their light sticks, as they listened to the music from their mobile devices. Bright, but broken street lights, fighting to keep alight the walk ways. A blindness cursed these streets. Not always in the figurative sense. The noise was deafening. Shouting salesmen, peddling their goods on the open streets. Various music, all mangled together in a mess of bleeding beats, and cutting riffs. The screams, and pleas, of slaves and beaten victims. Being deaf, was a relief in these streets. The streets were packed, leaving very little shoulder room, even at this time of night. People could not walk more than a foot, without having to avoid bumping into a stranger. A stranger more likely to steal your valuables, or cut you down, than say hello, or sorry. But in these packed streets, there were still those who could walk unhindered. Those who imposed such respect, or fear, that room was made for them. Slavers, mainly. But occasionally, the black robed stranger, cut it's way through the crowds. The intimidating, powerful force of one of these men, or women, could cut through these crowded street, like a warm knife through butter. Even Slavers, gave way to folk like this. Red eyes glared their way through the streets, intent on a destination. Even shrouded behind a hood, their faint glow was visible, making the imposing force even more respected, and feared. A Slaver quickened his slaves across the streets, slapping one slave for begging at the tall, red eyed man. The man didn't even look over his shoulder at the commotion. He continued. Cutting his way through the main crowd, leading into an opening of the street, were big signs tainted everyone's vision. 'Club LUSH'. The red eyed man stopped in his tracks, glaring emotionless at the many signs, before looking over his shoulder to a nearby poster for the club. The picture of the beautiful woman on it, was not the thing to catch his attention, but instead the lineup of artists this night. With wondering eyes, he glared at the poster for a while, before picking out a communication device from his pocket. Clicking a button, a figure became apparent on the device. This wore a black robe, much like the one the red eyed man wore himself. Bellow the hood, a face was clouded in a black smoke, revealing only a pair of green lights, were eyes should be. The voice was rasping, and shrouded, as if spoken through smoke. You've reached Club LUSH. This is Grim's domain. He is the man you must speak to, once you find the subject. We've both felt the power of this source. We must have this one.. Make this clear to him, and he will see reason. If not... Next visit will be of my Apprentice. I am counting on you. Get this subject. The red eyed man pressed the same button again, and pocketed the device as the image disappeared. Once again, strong steps sent the man towards his destination, the black robe waving behind him in the wind, and fighting to keep up with his pace. The red eyed man walked straight through the massive crowd of people. Again, the very robes he wore, as well as the red eyes, granted him an amount of respect, and fear, allowing him to barge straight through. As two Zabrak politicians opened the door, laughing and joking about something meaningless, the red eyed man barged right past them, through the opened door. One of the men shouted after the red eyed man, but was quickly silenced by the other, less intoxicated pencil pusher. The red eyed man, didn't even allow them a glance over his shoulder. Reaching the receptionist, barging right past the lines, as well as ignoring that the scantly clad woman behind it was already talking to another costumer. This caused quite the complaining murmur in the impatient crowd. The receptionist looked up, wide eyed, seemingly surprised at the feeling of authority in the man arriving. Excuse me, sir. You'll have to wait in line, like anybody else, even as a politician.. The woman started, quite appalled by the rude behavior of the new arrival. As she spoke, the red eyed man fished something out of an inner pocket in his robe, placing it on the table. A signet of the Senat, proclaiming this man had business for them, which bore little meaning to anyone here. Several people in line had these. That doesn't get you anywhere sir, I'm afraid you'll.. Still.. Have t.. The woman got a little slower as she spoke, because the red eyed man reached out for the signet again. Doing a twist on it with a finger, the signet dawned a black set of wings, as well as a dark mask in the middle. This was the signet of a recruiter, of the Sith Order, more specifically House Yimar. Even accomplished businessmen, and crooks, like Grim, was wise enough not to leave these men, and women, waiting at the door to their establishments. Not mentioning the possibility in a profitable sale, there was a chance there'd be no door the next day. The receptionist knew the signet, and quickly looked up, with a hand in front of her lips. The few costumers around, who could see the signet, quickly looked away, signing to any of their friends who might still be complaining, to shut up. I.. I am so sorry, sir. Step right through the doors on either side, I.. I didn't mean t.. She stopped appologicing, since the red eyed man had already picked up his signet, and head straight towards the stairs to the, so called, 'DUNGEON'. The man's red eyes, scanned the room he entered, once reaching the bottom of the stairs. The eyes narrowed slightly, as he clawed his right hand in front of himself. His fingers stretched, bent and twitched, as he concentrated on his task at hand. Focusing on his powers, he became blind to everything else. He just saw the force. There were several signs of it. Pathetic twingles of it, in lesser creatures, such as Bounty Hunters, and Mercenaries. These people were possibly exceptional at their jobs, because of this twingle, but certainly not what he was looking for. This scene, was not the red eyed man's scene. The music was enjoyable, but the crowd was appalling. Stretching his neck, the red eyes narrowed and stared towards the stage. The man cursed his luck, realizing the subject was a performer, rather than a server. These were always overpriced, and the owners often had to be pushed towards the sale. The realization struck like a brick, as his eyes fell upon the main singer of this hour. The red eyes narrowed slightly, realizing just how unlucky he might've gotten this night. The poster girl of Club LUSH, was force sensitive. Rank one, on Yimar's personal graph. The highest potential. A hidden gem, in a sea of pebbles and boulders. The red eyes calmed slightly, as they focused on the singer's eyes His expression was quite emotionless, but the eyes were cold. Her dance was seductive. Mesmerizing. Her beauty pristine. Untouched. But the voice. The voice was enthralling. Captivating. The red eyed man was drawn in, and kept him in his place. He should be on his way to Grim's table, but he was stunned. Never had his step failed him. His determination never waned. His resolve never broken. But this night, a voice left Trak breathless. Lost, in the beautiful voice, and dance, of this performer. The emotionless black ocean, that was Trak's mind, was tainted in red by unwanted thoughts, as well as memories. Things long since forgotten, and buried behind a shield of discipline, and training. All of this, was not apparent in the Chiss' face. Emotionless and cold, it stared at the performer, as she seduced his mind to feelings unbeknownst to him now. As the song changed mood, the red eyes narrowed slightly, as they traveled to the performer's own purple eyes. As they did, their gaze interlocked, and Trak's face calmed. No longer emotionless, but instead moved by the singer's song. Trak didn't look away from her eyes, even for a second. The glowing red eyes on his blue face, would still feel as cold, and glaring as ever, as Trak stood motionless on the dance floor. People around him danced, and cheered with the song, but the black robed man remained still. Just staring. Reaching out with his eyes, as she sang her song of desperation. Trak frowned, as the performer was swallowed by smoke, and he remained were he stood. To him, this was not just a symbol of her, being swallowed by the taint she was already chained to. This symbolized, what -he- was here to do to her. What -he- had done to so many before. Tossed them to the wolves. To be swallowed by a darkness, most corrupting. A fate, he knew the course of. Death, or torture. There were just those two, in the Sith Academy. Trak breathed heavily through his nose, as the voice rang again, the red eyes staring for the performer's, but never found them. Instead, found her, surrounded by. Him. Trak's face ticked with the realization, closing his eyes as he turned his face away, shaking his head. What had she done to him? Why was this affecting him this way? As the performer was suspended into the air, carried above the crowd, lifeless. Her death, by his hand. The red eyes followed the still woman, as she was carried right above him. Sadness, was apparent in his face, as he watched the lifeless body of the woman above him, sneering silently. And as the woman was released, Trak's arms moved in front of himself, as if he prepared himself to catch the woman. Should she open her eyes, he would be unmistakable. Right bellow her. Had she been just a little further down, their noses would've met. But, instead, his eyes just stared up at her, his arms still out for a moment, before they finally dropped down by his side. It felt like an eternity, staring at the performer, before his arm instinctively grabbed at the Cathar by his side's shirt, pulling him close. Grim's table... Trak demanded, the Cathar only complaining until he heard the demand. This was an interaction, no sane person would want to get between, so the man quickly pointed towards the area Grim would be. While talking, and listening, Trak never looked away from the performer, and her eyes, should she be looking at him. Only when guided, he looked shortly towards Grim's table, before back on the performer. The red eyes narrowed slightly, seemingly in disdain, before Trak pushed the Cathar away, and head straight towards Grim's table. I wish to speak with Grim. Immediately. Trak's voice was demanding, and imposing, as he approached Grim's table, or office.