The search for the mirialan woman continues. The sense of desperation ccoated everything as Phroth stepped off his speeder bike. The scanner goggles were slipped over his eyes, amplifying what light there was.

Breathing in slowly, a mantra through his mind as he focused. The Seeker was looking for her, and this seemed like as good a place to start.

His large frame walked down an open street, taking in the buildings, the looks of various beings who all were busy keeping their heads down.

Easy to ignore Imperial Flags when you don't look at the sky.

Breakfast done, courtesy of the tips from last nights dancing, the mid morning found Sholua idling down one of the many dark streets of the residential blocks. The desperate masses flowed around her, just considering her one of their own. Which in many ways she was. She paused briefly to admire a particularly impressive swoop bike crash that had left half the bike rammed into a building.

The speed they must have been going . . . .

It was just enough distraction from the events of the night before.

Even when trying to be casual in his search, Phroth cut an imposing figure. He held an air of predatory nature, which kept others away, giving him a wide berth.

Turning down a street, he came across a wreck, a couple of swoops. As he looked it over, he stopped when his gaze fell upon...

Is that...her!?

Having given the swoop crash it's due regard, she turned to continue walking. Her course took her away from Phroth at an angle, all she had to do was look to her right and she'd see the sharkman.

He was used to hunting. You never run on the prey. And especially considering... the Karkarodon shook his head. He remembered his time on the run. The constant rage and paranoia. Now...

He moved through the crowd, beginning to tail the mirialan.

She carried on, meandering through the crowd, not seeming to have any destination in mind. Perhaps this was how she'd remained hidden for a decade? By just being one lost soul among thousands.

His exposed toes clawing along the street, pushing past some of the crowd, keeping his focus on the woman. The scanner goggles adjusted as the lights were obscured, amplifying the ambient light. Phroth let calm radiatr from him, trying to be a sense of balance in the desperation of the area.

She reached a corner and stopped, stepping sideways to avoid some other downtrodden city folk. Ahead of them the road was full of people. She shook her head and turned back, planning on taking another route, walking straight towards the shark man.

When he saw she turned around, Phroth had a moment of uncertainty. Should he move to mask himself in the crowd? Maybe... no.

The large man stopped, his gaze focused on her, and his hands loose at his side.

A small child ran across the road at that moment. Conditions were often dark and dreary down here, with little light. However, the child seemed to have a smile on his face as he ran away from his persuers, a couple other kids from the nearby half-tent half-buildings.

Most kids down here wore cloaks instead of regular clothes given the conditions here. Dirt and grime often fell down from above and was known to carry all sorts of disease, it was better kids and folk remained covered. This young child was no different as he sprint across the path between Phroth and Sholua only for one of his feet to find some of that grime on the floor. Skidding along a foot or so until he came crashing down onto his knee.

Laughs of joy became wails of pain as the young child sat back onto his rear and held his knee.

Sholua's eyes followed the child and there was . . . something about her expression as the boy held his injured leg that might have given Phroth pause for thought. She took a step towards the boy and then she saw the shark.

"Oh kriff . . . "

She dropped into a ready stance that Phroth would possibly remember as being typical of Form IV users, and looked about for exits. The holster for a heavy pistol becoming very visible under her jacket.

The incident played out before him. The joys of children at play, the quest to find more survivors of the purge. He recognized the stance the mirialan took. His own form practice was... rusty.

And there were still the wails of the child. He made eye contact with the mirialan, then looked away, looking to the boy. Phroth sighed, and his form moved, heading to the fallen child.

"Hey, kid." He spoke softly, kneeling down. "How bad is it?"

Be what we should have been. Beacons of light and hope...

Sholua blinked. Phroth's move was not one she had even considered in her escape calculations.

No Inquisitor would do this . . . unless they're using this a distraction.

She took a step backwards, picking up on scanning the crowd for the shark's accomplices that would be closing in on her.

"It's a trap!"

She reached inside her jacket, towards the heavy pistol.

He heard the words, the fear, the panic. A large, webbed hand quickly reaching for a stimpack. Looking to the child, he watched the boy's face.

"I've got this if it'll help. I'm no doc, though."

She looked around, hand on the grip of the holstered pistol.

Where are the hunters? Which ones are with him?

She scanned the crowd.

Phroth didn't try to smile as he used the stim on the boy, "I've had a few bad scrapes in my life. They always sting the worst right when they happen." He spoke softly, reassuringly. "Get home, get cleaned up, youngling. That'll numb the pain, but you'll want to make sure you keep it clean." He nodded, standing up, and turning to see where the Mirialan had run off to.

Only to see her on the defensive, looking about, and keen eyes seeing her hand on something...

"It's just me." Phroth called out, raising his hands, showing herbhis palms.

"Yeah right. Just you and how many Stormtroopers?"

She kept scanning the crowd, circling around Phroth.

"Depends. Zero if we stay calm. Who knows if things escalate. I really don't want to fight our way out of a platoon. Laminate gets stuck in me teeth." He chuckled, trying to ease the tension with some shark humor.

"I've been where you are. Scared. Always looking around your shoulder. Wondering if then nightmare of that day ever stops." He spoke calmly, not moving towards her. "It turned me into a ball of rage and anger. Until I remembered what my... what a mentor told me."

He slowly reached up, raising the goggles off his eyes, pushing them up to his forehead. Letting her see his eyes, the clean amber and black, emotive with kindness.

"We have to be the embers of hope. That was our job, yeah?"

He's talking like . . . .

"They're all dead. Your Empire made sure of that. Ten years dead."

After she'd said it she didn't look so confident of her words, still searching for an easy escape.

He's not human . . . they've always been human before. He must be the distraction.

"Not all. And not my Empire." He shook his head, yet he didn't approach. He kept his hands visible the entire time, not making any sudden movements.

"I was barely trained when it happened. I was on Mon Cala."