Jael & OTA
Jael paused before reaching where the Banshee was docked. She pressed a hand to her hip, looking down at the cybernetic legs she now sported. They were growing on her - metaphorically if not literally - and she'd chosen to leave them in all their metallic, robotic glory. Rather than skin grafts, she opted for deep purple outfitting, accents in stunning, reflective chrome. It matched her Mandalorian armor. The constant whirring of the mechanics had been grating at first, but now Jael found it comforting. She bent at the waist, reaching down to buff a scuff from the covering on her calf. She wanted them to look nice. She needed to still look intimidating.
After the beat it took for her to put herself together into the imagine she wanted, Jael headed to where she knew Selene and her crew were docked. The music greeted her first, followed by the smell of food, and she couldn't help the smirk that curved across her features. The prosthetic that made up her arm from the elbow down looked exactly like her real arm looked - smooth flesh in her olive-toned skin. That was irrelevant though, as Jael wore long sleeves under a fitted vest. A blaster sat at her hip and she walked with her chin up and shoulders squared. She was almost half cybernetics, but Jael refused to carry herself with anything other than the mentality that she was completely one-hundred percent Mandalorian.
Arriving, she flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and grabbed a glass of Wookiee brandy off a droid. Taking a deep swig, she inhaled sharply at the burn in her throat, but smiled anyway.