She glared at the little beggars as they sat with bated breath, watching the dammed elevator crawl down from the Lower City. The fools. If she was correct, and she always was, the two coming down were dangerous. One more than the other.
She didn't know how she knew. Had always been scared to find out. It was a man and a woman, neither Sith, though there was something in the woman, something she couldn't quite grasp. She didn't know why, but whenever someone came down that elevator, she knew who it was, to some degree.
She could sense when there was a shift in anything as well. Tensions in the air, death around the corner, when two of the swine she had come to call people down here fell for each other. She always just knew, and it only isolated her further.
She sighed as the elevator stopped. She was correct, of course. A woman in light battle armor with short, close cropped black hair with bangs down past her left eye and a look that could chill anyone to their bones stepped off with a brown haired man wearing the stupidest looking orange jacket she'd ever seen.
The two idiots were immediately upon them, looking for credits they'd never get. She had to take a sharp intake of breath as she felt the woman's annoyance start to boil. She radiated power. An almost constant battle waged within her, she saw it. It hurt just to look at her. It was overwhelming.
Her eyes widened and her head fell to her hands as a sharp pain ran through her mind. Images of Taris, her home, burning and her people screaming as the bombs fell. She felt the rippling burn through her skin, her body shrivel and die in the flames, with the sting of knowing cripple her mind and send her hands flying from her head to the blasters at her hips.
She let out a breath as it passed. Tucking itself away in her mind like an old memory. The eighteen year old girl sighed. She'd often had flashes like that. They'd never been of Taris before however. It had been happening since she'd woken in the village, four years ago, with not a single memory in her mind. Gendar had told her she'd been found with her parents, knocked out cold. He'd said her parents had died before she'd woken. Rackghoul injuries so severe they couldn't hold on to the small amount of life they'd had in them. So the Under City is where she'd lived. They lied though. She could sense it when they spoke to her. The small twinge in their voice, hesitation in their eyes that mingled with fear. Even the name she'd been given spoke of it. Mystaria. Mystery. She was as much of a mystery to them as she was to herself. She'd taken to simply introducing herself as Mist now. She ahted the constant reminder of isolation and fear her full name brought with it.
Mist sighed. For some reason she sensed this woman and her companion would bring death and destruction. 'Well…' she thought, smirking to herself. 'I had better meet them,"