Public ☆*̥₊˚‧ ✧ THE PAVILLION ✧*̥₊˚‧☆

[Criiya]

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From all over the Galaxy, the rich and powerful travel to spend days upon nights within Criiya’s perfectly curated playground. The Pavillion sits at the top of one of Coruscant's tallest skyscrapers, and the penthouse club is able to overlook the rest of Galactic City until it curves over the horizon. Despite such a lovely view, that is one of the least spoken about aspects of this establishment, as attention is normally taken away from the windows after newcomers get their first look.

Upon entrance, it’s captivating. Every individual piece of the puzzle is enthralling in its own right, and all together, they create a siren’s song, begging you to come in for a taste of the high life. Women dressed in dark, shimmering silks drift by with exotic drinks on balanced platters, and before you can take a good look at them, your gaze is stolen by a young, purple twi’lek dancing slowly atop a table. Through the little light provided by the chandeliers, you can’t see much further, but you know what awaits you. The music drowns your senses, an electronic bass-boosted beat playing as what looks to be a live band takes a rest off to the corner. There was one large center staircase, which led to several more levels of the party, private rooms, games, and activities for paying patrons.

Having been distracted by the countless beautiful bodies, the last thing you seem to notice is the money surrounding you. No, not the credits littering the floor, but the pockets that run deeper than the floors of Coruscant itself. Every patron is dressed to the nines, with jewels that could cost as much as Outer-Rim planets, and dresses some Queens couldn't even dream of purchasing. These were individuals with power and true wealth. Those who weren't performing intoxicated dances with their partners on the dancefloor were instead sipping casually at a table, data-pads out in front of them, negotiating. Others, completely sober, surrounded by guards or lackeys, were waiting for their company to arrive. Not only was this a place of pleasure, but also business, both legitimate and underworldly.

Criiya didn't care, as long as it made her money.

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And that's when you see her. You can tell by the way she interacts with and drifts through the parting crowd that there's

something distinctly different about this tall, dark-haired woman. As she passes, men take hold of her heavily-ringed fingers, brushing their lips delicately upon her knuckles, and she greets the women as if they are all close friends. Her smile seems to brighten the room ten-fold, and each time she speaks, comes an eruption of agreement and laughter. As Crriya, the Owner of The Pavillion, moves, so does the entire room. You begin to notice just the amount of eyes laid upon her, how certain previously calm individuals now shift nervously in their seats, and how what had looked to be statues in the corners and shadows move in tandem with their Boss; Her Protectors, her Men.

She continues weaving her way through the crowd which adoration oozes from, the smile never fading from her lips.

As soon as she makes it to her destination, though, everyone seems to back off, giving her space to relax just like every other patron proper. Where she sat seemed to be her regular spot, a perfectly set table with drinks at the ready, somewhat off to the side of the hall, where she was able to see everything going on around her. Two men stood at either of her flanks, in black armor that blended with their clothing and that of the other staff, so they didn't taint the entire feel of the establishment with their rather intimidating presence.

The Princess of The Pavillion smoothed her skirts as she lowered herself into her seat, and draped her right leg over her left. With one hand lifting to flick her thick curls out of her face, the other reached for the blue-glowing drink that sat just in front of her. She raised it to her full lips, where she took a slow, but long sip, allowing out a satisfied sigh as she set it back down and glanced to the guard to her right, mumbling something about ordering more from whichever planet it came from in the first place.

"Tonight will be a good night." She then softly sighed to herself.

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[Kyyrk]

IDK what even anymore. My template messed up, I got scared, it was nasty.

Anyways. Ignore this, it was a double post. My b.

 

[Kyyrk]

P A V I L I O N
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Voph had questions. Questions that needed answers. Because of this, he'd been away from home for some time now. But word had reached his ears of a place that might help him. The Pavilion. Not that the establishment itself would assist, but it was a gathering point for many. So to Coruscant did the Obsidian Star fly. It was time to see if someone could tell him what he wished to know. If no one there knew? He expected to at least find a clue.

Or if not? At least he'd get a good drink out of it.

He stood now in the entrance way to the club, the dim lights having no effect on a being that was already blind. He came fully armored, but was conspicuously unarmed. It was not out of fear of attack that he wore his armor, but out of duty. An ancient code that he had once almost adopted as his own. Now? An ingrained habit. The man's white hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail at the back of his skull, the black mantle resting over his empty eye sockets to cover what few scars the red light did not disguise.

The former Lord Commander looked around the room for a moment, then stepped forward into the crowds. A few heads turned here and there, and even the odd outstretched hand beckoning for his attention. Voph was kind enough to acknowledge the summons to dance, but politely declined as he continued to move through the crowds to the bar. He paused as a young woman moved through the crowd in front of him, flanked by enough guards to denote her as the owner of the club. Voph watched after her for a moment, then turned and made his way to the bar.

He sat down on one of the stools, turning to survey the crowd behind him as he waited for the bartender's attention. Between the high society patrons, the dancers, and the music, it reminded him of everyone's favorite leisure cantina on Vaiken Station. Back in the good old days. "What can I get ya?" Voph turned his attention back to the bar, and set two items upon it. The first a credit chit. "Get me a Corellian Whiskey," He paused as the second item was set upon the table. "And do you know anyone that might know something about this?" The small box that sat upon the bar was clearly a holocron. The Chit that sat next to it was more than enough to pay for his drink, and offer a generous tip for the information he sought. Voph knew what he was after. And tonight, he knew how to get it. He was not in the realm of war tonight.

Not that realm of war, anyways...

Criiya | Open to Interaction

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[Var Talon]

TAG: Criiya

The finery itched.

The gem at the heart of Galactic City reminded the Echani of back home. Of the gilded homes that his people would erect. Of the shimmering silks which would adorn their frames. For Eshan, such finery was a reflection of the bounty of their world. In times of peace, everyone prospered. Var's earliest years as a man were a stark contrast. The Echani knew only the solitude of iron bars. The sting of vicious fists pounding flesh. The burn of poorly made shanks piercing flesh. If anything, he was a creature now cultivated by the streets and alleys beneath the Pavillion. But tonight, in the name of the almighty credit, he would look the part.

His silver locks had been tamed for the occasion. Slicked back and given the slightest of tousles. His beard, typically shaggy, had been cultivated with the finest of edges. Gone was the bomber jacket and the boots. In their place was a suit specifically tailored to his form. Most opted to wear black jackets to such locales - the Echani was draped in white. The sole contradiction to the pale ensemble was the onyx tie which ran the length of his torso. At a glance, the Echani looked as though he was meant to spend a lavish sum of credits at the Pavillion.

And, were his evening free, he might have entertained just that. Specifically, the Twi'lek dancers at the lower levels.

Alas, that was not what he was sent to do. His presence was demanded by the one who tugged at his strings. The one who demanded that his appearance be elevated. The one who lined his pockets. There was but one goal this evening, and to accomplish it, the man's piercing gaze swept across the swaying bodies. It was not too difficult to locate his mark. Like any "monarch", all the Queen's horses and all the Queen's men walked within an orbit of her form. For any trained in what to look for, the detail was evident. Yet those already intoxicated, or those ignorant? They might not have had an inkling.

Descent gripped her form. She settled. The protectors laid down their roots. The time to move was nigh. Var set forth, long strides bearing him across the Pavillion's floor. He paused, long before the protectors would so much as need to move a muscle. Waiting within his dominant hand was a calling card. A simple means of identication - one he offered to the man on his right. The sliver bore a symbol that had grown in infamy over the years. That of the Malvern family - a lineage which practically controlled the Galaxy's superpower.

"If at all possible," he began, speaking both to the protector and her grace, "I'd love to share a drink. May I?"

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[Jorco Czeku]

The Pavillion

Looks: X
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Time to bust out the old suit again, at least that's how Jorco viewed it. It was likely that he would be one of the more "Alien" individuals at the setting for the evening. Sure you had your near humans like Twi'lek but at least for the most part those were considered more conventionally attractive by near human standards. On himself an almost overwhelming amount of cologne to hide the natural odor Rodians had which he could place blame on the exotic flower he wore on his lapel.

Everything about the poor Rodian spoke sleaze, but than again he was born for these kind of settings and to schmooze. But even then it was a miracle he could attend a gather such as this. Having needed to pull a few old favors from some bygone friends of his to even gain enough information on it. Since the days of criminal empires were behind him now it was an uphill battle just to attend.

There were the typical sights here, the seemingly out of place patron at the bar, the Twi'lek dancer, the executives, both legit and criminal, the mistress in charge of the establishment, and those trying to grab her attention. Jorco however, was somewhat here for his own ends. He needed more people he could trust, and learn the new proper faces to do business with. Both legal, and less than legal.

 

["Sonny Choker"]

In came a man smartly dressed, as he knew he should be for such a place; his face, however, told a different story. His left cheek was half-melted and rubbery pink, the result of what must have been a wicked blaster-scar. With purpose he strode towards the Lady of the establishment, weaving in and out of the wandering guests. He gave a polite nod to her entourage and kept his distance. He had a loaf-sized gift in his hands, wrapped in sparkling crimson paper and fixed with a violet bow. He saw Var Talon talking with those closest and decided to wait. All he needed to do was deliver the present, perhaps after that he could take a drink. What a place!

( Criiya )

Spoiler: IMPORTANT OOC

The character featured is an npc, not Sonny

 

[Criiya]

Kyyrk disappointed a few beautiful individuals as he brushed off their hands, though otherwise, he made it through to one of the many bartenders littered throughout the establishment.

With a smile that could break a heart, the finely dressed woman behind the bar moved fluidly to bring herself before Voph, leaning forward with palms pressed to the counter's cool surface as she listened to his request, bobbing her head lightly in understanding. Her blazing purple eyes slowly drifted down to the item produced, along with the hefty sum of credits, though she still seemed rather uninterested. She pushed herself slowly from the counter, hands running over her middle as if to smooth her dress, accentuating her curves as she fell into a moment of thought. "The Voxyn doesn't howl to for the stars, but for the moon." The barista spoke rather simply before she finally began to pour Voph's drink.

Perhaps it was some sort of code... and her next little glance to the credits on the counter made it clear that it was. She wouldn't cause a scene, a stir over such an object for so little coin, especially when she'd have to hand some of it off just to have it assessed as well.

Voph's drink was slid towards him carefully, a napkin dropped just before his hands shortly afterwards. The barista took her place once more, palms pressing a bit closer to her paying patron so that she could lean in, voice lowering to a sultry whisper.

"What will it be?"

 

[Criiya]

Var Talon 's approach didn't seem to startle the Pavillion's Princess one bit. She, as unbothered and relaxed as ever, sat with crossed legs and a straight back, leaning into the cushioned softa which rounded her private table, one hand delicately swirling the glowing blue drink she had been sipping from since settling. Her eyes, though... those emerald eyes which remained illuminated by the drink she stared into, did not lift to study who wished to speak with her. Instead, she took another sip from the glass, allowing those in her employ to take charge of such a situation.

The armored man to whom Var had offered the calling card simply tilted his head downwards, to scan over it once, twice... as if deciding upon its legitimacy. And, after a muffled few words beneath the helmet he wore, did he bend at the waist to inform Criiya who was here to see her. If the namedrop had startled the beauty at all, she did not show it. A singular tap to her glass with one of her rings had the guards straightening, and backing up a few steps, to offer the pair the privacy she had subtly requested.

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And then, she smiled. It was a smile that dazzled hundreds every night, a contagious and heart-warming one. She had practiced it for years in the mirror, on businessmen... and now it surely did pay off. As those emerald green eyes lifted from her drink and instead settled upon Var Talon, it was as if a bubble had wrapped around the two of them, the music and chaos of the club fading away as he seemed to capture the entirety of her attention, at least for now. She was mesmerizing, almost scarily so. Criiya slowly extended her free hand, rings and bracelets shimmering in the club's light as she gestured for her guest to take a seat across from herself.

"Please," She cooed, her head tilting slightly as she allowed her eyes to explore his features, to see what she recognized or liked, "I don't believe we've yet to have the pleasure of meeting here."

Her voice was deeper and rich, one that could command an army should she need it, though still laced with a seductive and feminine tone that oozed unyielding confidence. There was nothing indicating this could all be a front because of her knowledge of his background and family name, and Criiya seemed so comfortably genuine and ready to make conversation that could last hours.

"Has business brought you this far, or are you looking for a night of fun?"

 

[Var Talon]

TAG: Criiya

The Southern Reach was successful.

At the very least, the guard took the calling card in hand and spoke with the Pavillion's graceful host. It was enough to earn him an audience. Enough that the armored men shuffled slightly to admit him enough birth to step forward. Ah, how the nuggets of ambition began to squirm within his mind. One day, if the stars aligned, it would not be the name of another lineage which opened the way. His name, and his alone, would be more than enough. That was what he toiled so effortlessly for, after all. Well, that and keeping credits in his bank account.

Upon being admitted forward, the woman of the hour spoke. Her tone was unlike any other he had heard before. He had spoken with nobles. Politicians. And the dregs of society. Some spoke with a metaphorical nose in the air. Others couldn't give less of a damn about proper usage of Basic. But this? It was the perfect blend of sweet and professional. Like a fire meant to draw in the curious moth. Var fluttered his metaphorical wings. His long strides bore him past the guards and into the company of the princess.

Descent promptly gripped his form. He settled upon the couch, adjacent to her form. Close enough that all words shared would remain between them. Far enough away that he wouldn't cause any alarm on the part of the armed men. Hell. In this proximity he could just make out the fragrance worn by the host. She certainly pulled out all the stops. Please, I don't believe we've yet to have the pleasure of meeting here. She began. Has business brought you this far, or are you looking for a night of fun?

The Echani smiled.

"It's rare that I'm able to visit Coruscant." he admitted. "I tend to orbit the Outer Rim these days."

"As for tonight...I've come for a bit of both. Business first, of course." She already knew who had sent him and what weight the name Malvern carried. Now came the question of why. "Simply put, her eyes can see far. And she has seen you - and this lovely Pavillion of yours. I come bearing a question - would you like to expand your reach?"

Var knew much. But his grin would never betray how deep his knowing went.

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[Criiya]

Criiya watched him move to sit, gaze following him lazily, but not vulnerably. And soon enough, she moved, leaning so that her elbows rested against the cool, shimmery tabletop. One hand folded itself against her cheek and jaw, propping herself up, while the other kept hold of and delicate swirl going on the glowing drink she loved so dearly. At his unfaltering movement and genuine smile, she knew this was no simple pawn in the game, but that of an equally brilliant mind and capable individual. The hairs at the back of her neck tickled in anticipation for what would come next.

Despite his words, the information and offer that spilled forward from his lips, nothing seemed to alter her visage; The practiced smile, the little bat of her lashes. The game continued, and boy did she seem to be enjoying it this time 'round. Perhaps, just maybe,h her drink was a bit stronger than usual. Unsuspectingly, she set it back down. That free hand now lifted to brush a fallen curl from her face, tucking it behind an ear decorated in precious metals and stones. An ear that caught every secret drifting in the wind. Ever so slowly, did her full lips part.

"I'm glad you could make it, then." She purred in response, taking a long pause between that and her upcoming decisionmaking. "I'm sure you and yours know I'm always looking for a new business venture. I like to invest in new projects, and simply buy others out. What have you in mind?"

 

[Kyyrk]

P A V I L I O N
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Voph arched a brow as the bartender said this. Voph didn't stir as the drink was set before him. The barista was clearly a harder buy than he had expected. He wasn't sure if that was due to the clientele's wealth or power. But ultimately, he didn't care. This may have been Galactic Alliance territory, but given their closest bedfellows were all malcontents who struck out on their own after a civil war with the Sith, Voph had no second thoughts over his ability to find someone that knew something about this particular box.

A gauntleted hand reached up, and placed something on the table, withdrawing to reveal a chit worth fifty thousand credits. "That dress looks expensive. And I'd bet it's not standard issue either." Voph leaned forward and scooped up his drink, taking a gulp of the brown liquid. He placed it back upon the bar and smiled quietly. "Voxyn, hmm? Interesting choice of words." Voph pushed the credit chit towards the girl slowly.

Voph let his digits linger on the chit for a moment longer, as if contemplating this choice. "Perhaps this would purchase what I seek? Even the Voxyn can be amicable. So long as the Hutt keeps his priorities in check." More code. Voph wasn't sure if his ease with such matters was due to his own racial predisposition for flowery and often vague language, or if it was his time as a spymaster among the Sith. But either way, it was a skill that served him well...

Criiya

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[Enlil]

Coruscant was the seat of the Alliance, and while not a friend to the Imperium, their Jedi had assisted at Dantooine. The King remembered those who did right; and so, he had come to pay respects at the Jedi Temple. After a long day, though, he opted to visit one of the many establishments intended for pleasure that flecked the Core World's cityscape.

He stepped out of the turbolift and accepted one of many drinks laid out for the clientele, sniffing at the grain alcohol with a vague hint of disgust across his features. It was hardly a delightful sensation, and when he tasted it, Enlil almost wanted to gag. But the burn quickly returned him to his senses, and he glanced about the room absently.

It wasn't like he knew anyone here, or had any interest in knowing them. The pulsating bass in his ears made his temple throb. He walked along and took another sip of the drink. Perhaps it was intended to get better over time?

No, it still tasted like he was drinking fire.

He placed the glass, still half full atop one of the many trays and the staff carted it off. The King would simply have to go without a drink for now. With a hand on his head, Enlil sighed.

This was supposed to be a place to relax, wasn't it...?

 

[Kyrel Ren]

The creature had kept up it's the journey. The man had started to forget it's former life. What he did remember was a life that was endless pain, from being a cyborg to a warlord and dark enforcer of the First Order. Ever since his death, he thought that death would be a release. Instead, it was only more torture. His body in itself was dead. He was a monster, stitches, and scars were all over his body. His face was familiar to when he was alive. But now it was a gnarled mess of what it once was. Now, he had been awakened in a new body, made from various pieces with only his right arm remaining. Now, he had been wandering the galaxy. With a constant voice in his mind. Constantly speaking to him. "Consume."

Dwelling from his ruined domain of Fortress Vader on Mustafar, to the underbelly of Coruscant. He was one of the various horrors. Stories have been told of a man that wielded a red saber, but had a whip-like tongue. Acidic type blood, and now ate beings whole. Naturally, not much of them were believed given the countless horrors of the Underworld. Now, he had been wandering more to other parts of the levels. The desire to consume still spreading. The monster did not wish to be this way, yet it was something that was compelling him.

Stepping inside the cantina, he wandered inside the establishment. Wearing dark robes, and so looked from his hood. Noticing that some eyes glared upon his disfigured face. The voice in his head telling him to consume. To rage, and rampage. Even sensing the Force Signatures, put his Necrochasis into high alert. As if he had the desire to attack.

Wandering with slow heavy steps, some wished to look to him. Some wished to attack him, yet others were curious by the strange man in black robes that appeared. His eyes on towards the group. Eyeing Var Talon Kyyrk and Criiya Only one thing telling him out of all the desires, out of all thoughts there was only one. 'Consume'

Enlil
Jorco Czeku

 

[Lucien Dooku]

[CANT BELIEVE IT]
Criiya Var Talon

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Lucien couldn't help but idle away from his duties when the opportunity presented itself to him so clearly. A short diplomatic outing to the Galactic Alliance had turned into a week-long vacation, and with the spare time on hand he wasted no time in sleuthing out a spot that actually carried his favorite kind of liquor. He seated himself at the bar with wandering eyes moving across the occupants of the dimly lit room. It was a habit, given his station, but soon enough he shrugged off any worry once the Bartender delivered his drink.

"That was quick." He gave the woman a smile, which shifted into a bit of small talk to pass the time. After she left, Luc returned to idly tapping his fingers against the bar, content on just vibing with the ambient music filling the room. He swirled the drink nonchalantly, then sipped at the glass with a delighted look once the smooth taste of imported liquor warmed him up. Vasarian brandy was a hard commodity to find within New Imperial Space, after all. It'd grown impossible to import the stuff back to Nirauan given the constant state of war and all the other political factors that amounted to him losing access to his favorite brand of liquor. He was almost close to swearing off alcohol completely given that reason alone, but the increasing frequency of his trips to the Core had finally given him a way to enjoy his nights once more.

And with nothing but time on his hands, Lucien indulged himself on that first glass of brandy pretty quick.

A second round came his way a few moments after. He swung around from the bar, settling his eyes upon the occupants of the room with curious intent. Blue eyes shifted across the denizens of Galactic City's elite whilst a smirk sat perched on his face, glazing over some of those who he deemed uninteresting until eventually his interest had been piqued. A woman sat a private table by her lonesome, that is until another gentleman had decided to take the opportunity to keep her company himself. Lucien couldn't blame the man based off what he could tell. She was pretty cute, and judging by the private table and the guard posted nearby to keep away others, she seemed pretty well-connected too.

His eyes lingered upon the pair as he engaged her with the first few words, and soon the exiled Prince had raised up to his feet with his drink clutched lazily within one hand. There were few opportunities to socialize with random people that one met inside a bar these days, and after a drink and a half he was feeling a bit.. mischievous, to put it lightly.

He sauntered across the expensive floors of the Pavillion, his gaze idling upon the pair of individuals who who rested in his sights. As he approached the table with clear intent to make his presence known, the guard had already his move to intercept the jacket-clad individual. Luc slipped a handful of credsticks within the pocket of the man's jacket. "Why don't you go ahead and take yourself a little break." Luc tapped the man on the shoulder playfully, not even bothering to look back as he continued onwards towards the private table. Money talked louder than words, and the exiled Prince found credits in abundance, all things considered.

And so he continued onwards towards the table, settling himself onto the couch on the opposite side of the male present, but next to the woman who'd caught his attention in the first place. His arm draped across the back of the couch, casually settling in behind the woman as he held the glass of expensive brandy with his other hand. His gaze remained focused upon Criiya for a spell, a devilish grin accompanying the boldness it took to seat himself so brazenly. They remained planted upon his visage, even as he spoke up, addressing the man seated opposite of him at the exclusive table they now all occupied.

"Hate to break it to you friend, but unfortunately she's already spoken for." He leaned forwards just enough to get a better look at Var Talon . Afterwards his eyes returned back onto the woman in question, the devilish grin sitting on his face having not faltered once. "But it's a beautiful night, and with a pretty woman like these hidin' in the corner with her own table."

He delivered a well-placed wink towards Criiya, then continued on to solidify his intent to follow through with his bluff.

"I wouldn't blame any man for makin' a move."
​

​

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Current Configuration: Civilian Form (see bio for details)
Accompanied by: Ayreon

Stop me if you've heard this one before. A beautiful woman walks into a bar...

Bithia strode into the club, clad in all black with her hair pinned up. Following close behind her was Ayreon, in his usual gray suit and tie. Tonight, she aimed to look like any other guest—a fabulously wealthy uptown girl, complete with a handsome and intimidating bodyguard at her side. At least, she hoped to keep up such an appearance for the sake of her snagging a meal this evening. Being a vampire was far less glamorous than the movies would lead you to believe. It's more like a particularly annoying addiction, only there's no hope of ever kicking the habit. Still, she had to admit, the whole hunting for prey part could be fun, and her particular strain of vampirism was manageable and didn't require her to actually kill anyone, just nibble on their memories or brain waves or whatever qualified as "psychic energy".

She had arrived in time to see Var Talon slip into a reserved area for his audience with the club’s owner. Criiya ’s sweet yet sharp perfume still lingered in the air where she had walked, battling with Jorco Czeku ‘s pungent cologne for dominance over the noses of the guests and staff. Bithia turned her head, catching Enlil abandoning his drink in disgust. He looked like he didn't want to be here. Might make him an easier target for her to lure—

Ayreon abruptly took a step closer to her, leaning forward to whisper, “We might have a problem.”

“Already?” Bithia pouted and pretended to check her chrono. “That’s got to be a new record time for how long it takes trouble to find us. What is it?”

He inclined his head toward a long, dimly lit hallway, at the end of which a figure shrouded in black robes now stood. A figure that could perhaps be best described as a monster. Bithia squinted at Kyrel Ren , more puzzled by his appearance and behavior than concerned. “Are you sure? He’s just standing there. Menacingly, I’ll grant, but he hasn’t done anything worrisome yet. Could just be a nice gentleman with some nasty battle scars.”

She turned her attention back to Enlil, looked him over, then nodded in approval. Touching a hidden button on her pheromone bracelet, she put it on a low setting before she walked over to him, Ayreon shadowing a little further away now that he saw her focused on someone. Lucien Dooku almost ran into the HRD on his way to tipsily barge in on a private business meeting.

Enlil was clutching his head when Bithia reached him, as though he had a headache. She gave him a small sympathetic smile.

"Oh no. Is the booze here really that bad?"

 

[Enlil]

The King glanced up.

Between the loud noise and acrid flavor that lingered on his tongue, his mood soured. He managed a lopsided smile of gratitude as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I am unused to this kind of entertainment," he said.

He looked over the room for a moment. Wine simply was not favored anymore in the Galaxy, at least not in larger, social events. His ruby gaze found the woman's own and steadied. "Do not worry, it will pass."

Enlil preferred not to show weakness. So, the fact that someone saw him that way and felt the need to be sympathetic he chewed on his lip. For some reason, he could feel his mind trying to sabotage him.

Emotions burned hot at the edge of his psyche. Sexual desire twisted upward from his root chakra and spread outward. He identified it and diverted it away, out to his fingertips. They grew hotter as he placed a hand on his leg.

The heat there hissed and sizzled, warping flesh as he fought against the strange sensation. Pain radiated through him, and he found focus in it. Even the migraine paled, and seemed to subside.

Enlil offered a small more earnestly now.

"This swill that passes for drink these days," he joked.

Ishani Dinn

 

[Darth Assimilus]

" Its no Blue Milk."

A man leaning against the counter answered rather sarcastically and glanced over to the woman Ishani Dinn before leaving promptly . It seemed her attention was rather focused on the King Enlil himself. It made sense if one knew the mans position within factional governments, But what did that say about the woman who approached? It mattered little to the man. He was here just to observe and there was alot to take in.

First there was the monster. Kyrel Ren ,An enigma of strange flesh with rather unfriendly looks. He came across as unstable and despite Jon's best intentions he could not manage to not judge a book by its cover. Next there was the Echani male, Var Talon . Needless to say this, this man was apart of house Malvern, as far as Joneleth could tell and was no doubt he was not from around here. Nor was his off mannered friend Kyyrk .

The two had found their way over to "the princess" of this rather charming location. The Pavillion. She was known only by name to Joneleths ears and she was the object of every mans desire in the place as of yet. Well, save one. Joneleth approached shortly after Lucien Dooku said his piece and instead of addressing the stunning female Criiya , Instead he turned his attention to all individuals in the private table area, but only after talking his way past the guards.

" The harder the conflict, the more glorious be yer triumph. Now truly, the price of flesh is obsession. But is that what I am seeing here?" Joneleth raised a brow at the crowd of males and then to the female before letting his face rest some and he smiled. Though more so with his pale colored eyes than anything else. Joneleth was tall. Adroned in black regal attire. Patterned with leathers and synth cloth that gave the impression that he was more militant in origin than royalty. Rugged blonde hair and tan skin skin. He was handsome to say the least but not overly stunning.

 

[Ishani Dinn]

Current Configuration: Civilian Form (see bio for details)
Accompanied by: Ayreon
Tags: Enlil

Bithia’s gaze flicked to Darth Assimilus when the man made a single comment, then left as quickly as he had appeared. She shrugged her shoulders, turning back to Enlil. A bit of runoff from the chemicals would inevitably draw a certain degree of unwanted attention from passersby, but she did cross her arms over her chest, her wrist now angled so that the pheromone dispenser was directly in front of her chosen target.

“I haven’t tried anything yet. Sounds like I’m not missing much.” She tilted her head inquisitively, her smile shifting from sympathetic to amused. “What kind of entertainment are you used to?”

Her question aimed to discern his motives. If she had to guess, he was here either because he had been wrangled into it, or he was bored and quite simply didn’t know what to do with himself. If the former, she didn’t necessarily want to keep him from his business. If he was at his leisure, well, he’d be in danger of losing the precious memory of what he had for breakfast that morning. She liked to steal food memories; they were the tastiest.

 

[Var Talon]

Tag: Criiya , Lucien Dooku ​

The Echani had an excellent poker face.

Time spent behind the most hellish of bars would cultivate such skill. When so much as blinking meant the difference between life and death - one learned to keep their features calm and even. In times long since past, Var stared down many a poorly-made shank in those cages. Now, he simply watched as a gilded patron clung to his words. Her movements gave away nothing - there was no surprise, nor eagerness to be found in her expression. Yet her honied words bled with interest. The prospect of expansion was appealing - so onto the details.

Var sat up in his seat ever so slightly, fingers steepling together as he prepared to answer. Yet, as his lips parted, his train of thought was momentarily interrupted. Hate to break it to you friend, but unfortunately she's already spoken for. Var turned his head, placing his gaze upon the sharply dressed man. He was the spitting image of the establishment around them. From head to toe, from demeanor to verbiage - these were the sorts of rivers he was comfortable swimming in.

The beginnings of a smirk played upon the man's face.

A single finger raised, settling upon his own lips. The universal symbol for be quiet.

He then returned to the monarch of the Pavillion. "I'd be happy to continue. But what I have prepared is meant for your ears, alone."​

​

 

["Sonny Choker"]

The scarred man with the wrapped gift shifted on the spot, tutting his tongue and rolling his eyes. He didn't have much more time to waste here watching the pair. By the way they were looking at each other, this could last all night.

'Here-' he said, motioning for one of her nearby guards to take the gift. 'Make sure the Lady gets this. It's from Sonny and the HELLRAZORS. He's sorry he couldn't make it today to make her acquaintance.'

Var Talon | Criiya | Lucien Dooku