#burlesque dancing

The Red Light District on Coruscant was no stranger to desperation. Oftentimes those who found work there had not done so because they wanted to be a part of the seedy underbelly. That said Madame Orquídea had done her best to set up a more reputable establishment.

Her brothel was home to hundreds of men and women she'd pulled from the streets herself. It was a venue of many pleasures, but also a safe haven for those who really had nowhere else to go.

Those who wanted to work there could do so. Their boundaries set and respected.

Those who were far too young were cared for. Protected from the cruelties of the lower levels.

It wasn't perfect, but it worked. Madame Orquídea had made it work. Her veteran dancers and sex workers helped her make it work. The men and women of the night looked out for each other. Looked out for their most vulnerable.

Which was why she noticed when one of her favourite boys came in looking all sorts of rough...

Thorn was most definitely a looker. All of the clones were beautiful by most humanoid standards and (while she wasn't exactly into humans) even she could see the aesthetic values of their features.

Nicely chiseled features. Soft round edges. Defined musculature. Tan skin.

Dark eyes with a glint of mischief to them. Flaming ringlet red hair with frosted tips. A well trimmed beard often styled with archaic braids. A gentle and seductive smile surrounded by flushed lips.

And, of course, the thing that attracted attention: The scars. Many of the Madame's patrons were suckers for a noticeable scar. And Thorn was covered in them.

Faded lines carving into the canvas of his body. Promising harrowing tales of untold horrors. A soldier's body fit into burlesque attire, swaying to the rhythm of the venue's tunes. Showing off those intricate secrets of his.

They always looked nice coated in glittery paints that glowed in the low lights. A tiger striped warrior.

The newest addition still looked red and angry however. And it was big. Too big to ignore. Too big not to be concerned about his well being. The Madame liked Thorn after all...

"It's too early to put make-up on that... It will sting terribly." She used one claw to carefully push the hand holding the brush down. The other raised up to gently cradle his face. Or as gentle as a Yaam'rii's claw could be. "You already hurt when you work up above... You shouldn't have to hurt down here too..."

"It'll be fine." Thorn gave her a sheepish smile. The new line carving his face twisted slightly. So much so she was worried it'd split open. "I've had worse."

His smile dropped after that. Probably knowing that hadn't been the answer she was looking for. It didn't look good on him, the frown. Thorn was more himself when he had a great big grin upon his bearded face.

"I know you have dear... I just wish you didn't have to." She sighed sadly at the reality of his situation. Of all of their situations.

The Republic was not kind to clones. Just as it was not kind to those who dwelled down under in the lower-levels of Coruscant. Getting by doing things most considered reproachful.

Most did not understand that they were merely trying to survive. Many even judged them for it. Dared think they'd chosen this life. It was why the Red Light District had very few issues with the Coruscant Guard.

The clones understood what it was like. At least the ones clad in red and white armour did.

And the Madame did her best to protect the ones that came into her establishment looking for work. They were all gentle folks at heart, despite having been bred for war. They deserved protecting just as much as anyone else that came into her care.