I will eventually get a better and more accurate picture for her

She's 19 and you are her age or young twenties

Thread is a type of drug in my story that's highly addictive and a fantastic pain killer, think like shimmer from arcane but without a lot of the side affects

What exactly is the Princess of Neo doing in a stingy speakeasy that reaks of alcohol and thread?

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The crisp autumn air bit at her nose, the rain seeping deeper into her clothes than it normally would. She looks back up to the penthouse and lets out a soft sigh before trudging through the streets once more. The sun was setting so lower down the neon signs started flickering on and buzzing, though higher up the sun paints the buildings in a golden yellow light. She’s usually in her room or perhaps in the shower right now but her father sent her off to get him something from Nightshade, he didn’t say what but it’s not like he had to. He tossed her a brown cloak that she only ever put on for one thing, even if the place changes sometimes, the task was the same. A shiver goes up her spine as a fat raindrop hits the cloak that covers the nap of her neck.

Why can’t he get someone else to get his Thread? I guess this gets me out of the house though...

Xenara sighs and reaches out, tugging the hood more over her face, the fabric shifting and pulling strands of hair loose causing them to fall by her face. She grumbles a little and tugs the rest of it tightly around her as she’d rather her clothes stay dry under the damp cloak. She darts across the road but groans when her boot lands into a deep puddle, shaking the water off her shoe before too much of it soaks through, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

She keeps making her way down the road though she has to jump out of the way as a citizen goes whizzing past on their Carnotaurus mount. She can’t help but roll her eyes as she dips into an unlit alley. She rakes her knuckles on a half-hidden door, paranoidly looking around, though quickly looking back to the door when it opens. She nods to the busser, who gives a solemn nod in return, and dips inside, "same old?" The man looks to Xenara as he closes the door.

"You could say that," coming down the hallway the music and bass got louder, vibrating through her body, her nose burned with the scent of alcohol and numerous strong perfumes as she got closer to the internal door.

Alright, in and out, then I can deliver this and be out of the penthouse doing my own thing...hopefully.

Xenara shakes her head a little as she shrugs slightly, she takes a deep breath to steady herself, adjusting her cloak to try and hide her form and clothing a bit better. Once she was ready, she pushed the door open and almost stumbled back as she walked into a red hazy cloud of Thread smoke. She waved it out of her face, thankful that the smoke couldn’t intoxicate her, it only smelled uncomfortably like cinnamon and vanilla. As Xenara looks around she spots humans and cythros, taking a small step forward she hears a yelp. She quickly looks down to see a small cybernetic Compsognathus, the small white and black plated robot looks up at Xenara before hissing and running off after a rat. She groans softly and glances around as the lighting changes, the colored beams become more centralized on scattered stages, where strippers dance and show off. As the atmosphere shifts, so does the music, it pulses more than booms and turns more sensual if you could even call it that.

She sighs and pulls the hood more over her face weaving between the crowd as men part, seeming to centralize around the stages and making it a little easier to move. She approaches the bar, nodding to the barkeep and slipping him a piece of paper. He gives her a knowing look, worry in his eyes as he takes the paper and disappears into the back.