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[Tayeav]

Distant sandstorms ripped across the dunes, pulling yellow sand into the sky with violent gusts that blotted out the sun. The desert was limitless, a place where heat waves danced upon the lifeless sand, distorting the angry, yellow sun perched mid-way on the horizon. Tatooine. A savage dustbowl of a planet skirting the edge of the galaxy; where crooks were kings and power was measured in credits.

This world was bleak and hopeless...

Tayeav leant comfortably against the outer wall of a no-name shop, her hands folded about her waist to, conveniently, steady her hands mere inches from her blasters. The wind blew hair into her face, the ebony strands obscuring a crimson vision that cared little of the intrusion; after all, what did she really have to look at?

From every side, nothing but sand and sun could be seen; the endless sea of dunes mimicking the dome-shaped buildings that, collectively, made up the spaceport known as Mos Espa... Traders, junk merchants and criminals mingled together in the streets whilst slaves ran back and fourth on errands and nonsense bidding; the energy of the place overshadowed by the lash of ownership and poverty...

The 6'3", leather clad Chiss failed to stand out against the mix of aliens meandering two and fro; quite a comfort for someone too used to curious eyes - for the less she was noticed, the better. At least in her opinion... She wore a comfortable, thick-strapped shirt that (despite her best efforts) managed to amplify the natural tone of her torso, whilst a pair of baggy, black cloth trousers hung dangerously from her hips, held up by a trusty weapon belt. Her cobalt skin shone brilliantly in the ruthless glare as Tay rolled her restless shoulders; the gun-slinger having never been a fan of this planet, and was quite keen to get the buisness over and done with...

“Tarn?” her voice was as dry as the landscape, the pirate turning to her companion - Tarn Ardsul - a man known amongst the crew as a skilled (if not a little surly) pilot who was just one of the many volatile marauders who called the Voodoo Heart their home. Tay had agreed to accompany the man to the planet, both to stretch her legs and lend some combat support for the pending transaction; for the keen eyed Chiss, whilst not exactly looking it, was a most dangerous creature indeed...

On her hips, two modified blaster pistols sat in oiled holsters; one a DL-18 with a custom wood-finish, and the other a SE-14C with refined scope; their hilts within range of her long, black-nailed fingers.
“You sure you don’t need help carrying that part? It looks a little heavy...”