Private Promise Whatever You Like | Invite

[George Vitalis]

​

It was exactly like the holofilms; George found himself transported, far away, in the tomblike environs of a transformed Herevan Hold. These days it annoyed him more than frightened him -- or that's what he wanted people to think. That he grimaced and then laughed in the face of danger. Not that part of him was afraid every single second that he might once again be in that horrible, damp version of Herevan, once more subject to the clutches of a villain, some perverse mixture of his Talbot Vitalis and Sieger Ren. When he closed his eyes for too long in silence he could still hear the whispers, the poisonous words that had dripped into his ears every moment...

Luckily, here on Coruscant, there was never really silence. Airspeeder traffic whipped along in steady travel lanes at all hours of the day and night, and even though the penthouse his more owned was a bastion of tranquility, it was never quite silent, either. The shuffling of servants, the chiming of communicators, the holos droning news coverage all provided a rather delightful background hum.

The newly-installed Crown Prince of the Renascent Republic and the First Imperial Crown-in-Exile (what a mouthful, George thought grimly) had taken to his new public role like a duck to water, attending functions in his mother's place, cutting ribbons, unveiling plaques, and raising funds for the Renascent Republic's efforts to address the growing refugee crisis in the Galactic Alliance. And when Natasi had pledged, publicly, to remain on Coruscant -- well, that was where George had to be, too. He didn't mind, especially. He know Natasi hated Coruscant because it wasn't Galidraan, but George wasn't as deeply connected to their ancestral homeland as she was. That made his sister's impulsive sale of Herevan Hold a little easier to bear, but the wound ran deep with Natasi.

One more thing to take care of before his mother's upcoming nuptials. He had made arrangements with Dyrn Grav to spend some time today to take care of other tasks. They had a final fitting for their suits, something about the marriage license, and perhaps some others. George hoped to pick his would-be stepfather's brain over drinks -- or lunch, if they felt like being responsible -- about the Reima situation. His mother went selectively deaf when George said his sister's name, and Reima merely scoffed whenever George mentioned Natasi. It wouldn't do, it simply wouldn't.

Coruscant wasn't Avalonia, either -- thank God -- but neither was it New Sterandel. He had an immediate fondness for the place, and had spent the last few months since his rescue from the Netherworld ingratiating himself with the population there and all across Aegis and the Adytum System. He had pulled pints in New Sterandel pubs, joined a mining crew in an Themis, taken a turn behind the wheel of a fertilizer on Tyche, as well as a tour of duty aboard the Renascent Navy's Titanic-class flagship Hyperion. Now reassigned to 'official duties,' he missed the structure of those days in the Renascent Navy, where was not once referred to as a Royal Highness but instead Lieutenant Vitalis.

Still, George mused as he leaned against the railing of the broad patio that jutted out over the cityscape of Coruscant below, in the Navy he couldn't very well light up a cigarette whenever he wanted one. At least here he only had to worry about his commanding officer finding out, and Natasi Fortan was expected to be out on Senate business for much of the day. As long as Dyrn didn't tell, everything would be golden. He took a drag of his cigarette and self-consciously reached up to brush his brown hair to one side. His formerly golden locks had been overcome by deep chestnut ones, the relentless Fortan genetics asserting themselves at long last.

Speaking of Dyrn, was that not the broad-shouldered Duke and bridegroom to be in the doorway? George took one last drag of the cigarette and stubbed it out in the nearby ashtray, disposing of the butt before crossing over to greet him. "Good morning, sir," he said pleasantly, offering a hand. "Not long now, eh? Are you nervous? You don't look nervous."

But then again, Dyrn had spent a considerable amount of time in the Netherworld alongside Natasi. After that, it was hard to get nervous about normal things.

Dyrn Grav | Natasi Fortan | Reima Vitalis​

 

[Dyrn Grav]

Coruscant was a completely different place, compared to anywhere else Dyrn had lived or served. The sheer size of the ecumenopolis city-covered planet was staggering to comprehend, with levels upon levels far beyond anything he could visit in a lifetime. Dyrn could only imagine the lower levels, how dense and populated and claustrophobic it would feel; and it was with some relief that the ex-Guardsman - now a Duke - had made home in one of the many looming towers above that. Not that that would have mattered, if Natasi had chosen to live on the lowest city levels, as Dyrn would have joined her no matter the locale.

In the end, it was just comforting to see the sunrise amidst a city that reached the horizon.

The speeder ride had been uneventful, despite the sheer traffic that moved like millions of mynocks on a hunk of metal debris, with a surprisingly safe - and relatively simple - experience over the city below. Dyrn landed without issue, presented himself, and was permitted entry to the penthouse where George had come to call home. The tall man was dressed neatly, though still somewhat casually, as he figured it was best to be ready for a range of activities throughout the day, without the want for refinery or stifling fashion getting in the way - there had been ample time for that, in the past, with Dyrn being a Duke.

The bell sounded, the door opened with a whoosh, and Dyrn stepped into the interior. Ahead he saw George, the young man looked better, on the mend, and it was good to see. The Force knew the last few months had been rough on the youth, which wasn't even accounting for his position as public figure of governments, let alone the events of the Nether; that had been a nightmare for all involved, truth be told, but in the end they had emerged stronger for it.

"Good morning, George," Dyrn said with a nod of his head, as he crossed the distance in several long strides, and took the other's hand. "Well, I've been a Guardsman. Shot, stabbed, crash-landed, fought and stopped assassins, all the while controlling my fear and nerves... as it stands now, I'm petrified."

Dyrn offered a smirk, his words playful; he felt that both men knew the truth of it.

"Have you been well? I apologize for not checking in with you sooner, I've been somewhat inundated with high dignitary expectations and the Alliance."

With a sigh, but also a smile, Dyrn reached up and gave George a firm squeeze of the shoulder. The young man had stepped into his obligations well, there had been some measure of pride in Dyrn's thoughts at that, and soon the pair would be related by an even closer bond. The discussion of being step-father or step-son had never really been brought up, it simply was what it was, but Dyrn had always tried to present an open and approachable father figure if George ever wanted it - someone to talk to, someone to ask advice, or even someone to just enjoy a hunting trip and some time away.

"I understand we have a list to see to," Dyrn said, eyebrows raised. "Did you have a particular agenda to begin? I am more than happy to accommodate your busier schedule, so by all means, where should we start?"

It was good to be near George again, it had been far too long.

George Vitalis | Natasi Fortan | Reima Vitalis​

 

[George Vitalis]

​

George Vitalis had a father, of course; almost everyone did, unless you were a clone or one of the relative handful of species that reproduced in different ways. The name of Talbot Vitalis had loomed large over much of his early life, and after his mother's death it was one half of the formula that made George the tragic case that he was. He's just like his father, poor little boy, they would say. But George had never met the man, as far as he knew he had never laid eyes on the man. He had died when George was an infant, and other than the various pictures and portraits and newspaper clippings he had been given growing up, George couldn't remember ever seeing his face.

As far as surrogate fathers -- well, his mother's cousin Pierce came to mind, and his uncle Thaddeus had taken an active interest in his raising. But it felt almost strange to think of getting a stepfather, especially reasonably late in life. For as long as George could remember, his mother had been a glamorous widow, sleek and dark and relentlessly well-dressed. There had been gossip years ago about her and the man George knew as Uncle Alec, his father's dearest friend who had come to Natasi's side after Talbot's death. George didn't set any store by it, but he had to admit that Dyrn Grav bore a striking resemblance to Uncle Alec.

Perhaps Natasi Fortan had a type after all. The thought made George feel slightly uncomfortable, irreconilable to the vision he had of her as some mythical, quasi-virginal figure, unmoved by physical desires or anything, really, besides duty.

But George liked Dyrn. They hadn't spent a lot of time together -- for obvious reasons -- but they had gotten along well, and George knew that the ex-guardsmen loved and cared for his mother very deeply. The two of them deserved some happiness, George thought. "You hide it well," he told Dyrn as he pumped the guard's hand enthusiastically.

"I'm well, yes, thanks," George said, avoiding Dyrn's gaze as he cast his eye around the balcony area. It wouldn't do to cast a pall. "Mother's been keeping me busy, but -- you know what that's like well enough. But I'm relieved of duty for the time being, other than the wedding to-do list and, uh... well, a bit of a challenge I've set myself. I might need to pic your brain about that, actually, but -- we don't need to get into that now. I've got the tailor, the florist, the photographer, and hopefully we can find some time for a bite somewhere in there. Same list for you?"

Dyrn Grav | Natasi Fortan | Reima Vitalis​