The tall female Twi’lek danced at the center of the banquet room, the brilliant lights of the castle’s chandeliers mirroring the dance on her skin, the rare red shade of the Lethan race.
She spun in little circles, the leather straps of her dancer’s attire slapping against her body, making their own music. Her lokku, also wrapped in leather straps, curled and twirled around her head. The girl was skillful and graceful, her dance full of sensuality and promise. She danced, mesmerizing male and females alike. As usual.
The Lethan moved with her eyes closed, blocking the images of Vorgrell’s nobles and Imperial officers, socialites and wannabes. She didn’t need to look to know where everybody who was somebody was. Princess Zara Orsiri – the traitorous princess – was sitting behind the main table, in a raised dais in front of her. She was conversing softly with Grig Harkness, the appointed Imperial Commander to Vorgrell. She could almost feel the old man’s eyes on her. Besides the Princess, and sitting slightly to her back, was Lady Arella, her guardian dog.
The Twi’lek twisted, opening her eyes and looking over her shoulder at the courtiers sitting in the auxiliary tables at both sides of the main one. There was Lieutenant Akula, next to a noble lady of Vorgrell. She caught his eyes as she danced and closed hers, she could still feel his clammy hands on her from the last time she’d performed for the Princess. She had needed all her skills to evade him then. She spun again, the strips of leather lifting away from her legs with the motion.
The music was exhilarating, pulsing through her body, and the girl threw back her head, lips parted, rendering the sensual performance of her kind. For a while, she forgot why she was there, all thoughts of retribution and plans of revenge fled from her mind. She just danced. Moving rhythmically, she rocked her hips and jumped, then sank down to her knees when the notes finally died.
The sound of clapping rewarded her efforts, and the girl got to her feet again, facing the hostess, Lady Zara Orsiri, Great Princess of Vorgrell. Her target. She bowed, letting her lokku fall forward and hang limply by her knees. The Princess smiled absently and nodded at the dancer, not aware that the gesture - a symbol of positive thoughts about the person or persons in front of whomever was bowing - had been completely neutralized by the almost imperceptible clockwise gyrating of her falling lokku. Only another Twi’lek could have understood the subtle change in meaning.
After a small gesture of dismissal from Princess Zara, she straightened and walked off the dance floor, her bare feet silent against the black and white marble tiles. She could feel the Lieutenant’s eyes on her again, and thanked that etiquette didn’t allow him to get up and follow her. Not in the middle of the second course.
Once she left the banquet room she walked quickly in the direction of the kitchens looking for the Orsiri Majordomo to collect her pay. She crossed her path with the armored guardians of the castle and smiled seductively at them, as usual. She was a familiar figure during the Princess parties.
After collecting her fees, she would be allowed to stay some more around the place and try the banquet’s preparations, as long as she didn’t get in the middle of the comings and goings of human and droid servants. She was particularly friendly with the First chef, a talkative plump woman from Nal Hutta. The woman was always happy to gossip with her while she moved around the kitchen.
The Twi’lek would use her time in the castle. As usual.
A couple of hours later, the Twi’lek stood under the vibroshower in her small cubicle. She passed her hands over her skin, slowly washing away the red dye that had covered her distinctive blue and yellowish colors.
Once clean, she stepped out of the refresher, walked past the scant dancer’s attire that she had left lying on the floor and sank onto her bunk. She fell asleep almost instantly and dreamt of vengeance. As usual.
(I borrowed the pic from here. Thank you, Rocketraygun)
