Announcements and Celebration (Lords of the Fringe)

[Ashin Varanin]

A great many announcements seemed to have piled up as of late. With the High Council's most recent renewal, though, and with Ashin's return from the reserves, it seemed appropriate to used those announcements to celebrate the anniversary of the Battle of O'reen, Fringe's greatest victory. The announcements were made at an O'reen commemoration gala on Annaj, capital of the Confederation. Everyone who was anyone in the Fringe would be there; the nearby less exclusive parties would get the speech live, in broadcast.

Ashin had chosen to appear in a black evening dress, nothing ostensibly formal. As she would be the one making the announcements, she'd taken care to stay well hydrated, and she legitimately had to use the 'fresher. The announcements, then, were delayed perhaps three minutes. A slightly tardy but much relieved conqueror of ten thousand worlds went to the little podium at the head of the gala's ballroom, and into the holocams that would carry her words to the Unknown Regions.

She'd made enough speeches -- including, memorably, before the Republic Senate -- to know her audience's attention span. Boredom was not her objective. She went for brief -- this wasn't about platitudes or rhetoric, at least not more than the minimum necessary amount. Fairly quickly, looking out over the gala, she got to the meat of the announcements.

"...heartfelt welcome to our longtime allies and neighbours, the Gods of the Moross Crusade, who have united with us to..." The less said about their divinity and the circumstances of their immigration, the better. Kitt Solo had been the most instrumental diplomat in that alliance, and best able to navigate the necessary doublespeak, but Solo was no longer with them. Ashin waxed as eloquent as she could manage without obvious faux pas. Applause, applause.

"...commendation to [member="Gavin Ovmar"] and [member="Marselia Urstalis"] for saving the lives of two High Councilors on the planet Lipsec." Applause. "The Helix Medal is awarded to [member="Lucien Cordel"] and [member="Anders Sivas"]." Applause. "And the Medal of the Confederation, the first such ever awarded, is given to Arbiter [member="Alen Na'Varro"], for a successful solo operation in a starfighter, against an enemy command ship, while surrounded by that command ship's two reinforcement fleets." Quite a lot of applause. He'd earned the Helix for that incident, but the review board had opted to approve her recommendation for the Medal of the Confederation. Because frankly, he'd rocked the Battle of Morellia.

"The Grand Admirals and the High Council would also like to give lifetime achievement awards to the following, with thanks for their years of service. [member="Sargon Vynea"], [member="Lady Exedō"], [member="Lucien Cordel"] and [member="Anders Sivas"] are named Emeritus High Councilors for Life." Applause, applause. "The High Council wishes to welcome Lord [member="Dissero"], founder of the Confederation's archival department, and Arbiter [member="Spencer Jacobs"] as new members. They'll be working alongside Lord Adair and Lord Ovmar to set a new security agenda for the Confederation, after the defeat of the Sorcerers of Rhand at the Battle of Solovarna." A self-deprecating joke about Spencer being her wife, laughter, applause. Detail about the battle, a few more medals handed out, applause.

She made a show of checking her chrono. The Fringe liked even its most formal events and individuals to make them laugh on occasion, make them comfortable. Perhaps it had something to do with trying to get comfortable with the Confederation's unique power relationships. Whatever the case, the polling data was unimpeachable. "I won't take up any more of your time this evening, but let's have one final hand for our heroes."

Heroism, heroism. Applause, applause.

She got down from the podium, and the party began.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Yeah, heroism. Speaking of which...

"Ugh, so you're telling me we have to deal with a bunch of jingoistic zealots who think they are the gods' gift to the galaxy? No wait, correction, they think they are gods."

Cue eye roll at Andra.

"Well that's faaaantastic. What do we do now, circle jer- ow!"

Bucket shouldered past. "A thousand apologies, Master Shorn."

"What the hell, Rhombus Face?"

"Is that a geometric insult corresponding to the nature of my physiognomic construction, sir?"

"Yeah. That..... Jackwagon," Mikhail grumbled as he stomped off to go find the punch bowl and do terrible things to it.


[member="Ashin Varanin"], [member="Anders Sivas"]

 

[Serian Loria]

It was a strange thing to him to be at the beginnings of such a merger. The Crusade had been going strong, so then why this change? His sleep had been more uneasy as of late, mostly filled with the cries of countless lives. He’d never trained in foresight, but sometimes such things came to any and all who were sensitive to it. He’d long ago put his life in the hands of the Force, such a thing was bound to have unforeseen strangeness. The taste of death seemed to touch the air every time he woke up from such a nightmare and it left him with far too many questions.

He was dressed somberly, though there was a bit of ornamentation. It wasn’t in his nature to appear sloppy and circumstances being what they were he had to dress appropriately. It didn’t change the fact that he was tired, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his adopted daughter. However he might find answers to his unspoken questions if he stayed, perhaps others were so afflicted as he. He closed his eyes with a sigh as the crowd applauded for the individuals who’d won merritt. Though they opened again to study those same named people, after all he’d best remember them.

He he stood near the Reviver, [member="Amorella Mae"] for it was she who had brought him into her faction and he still owed her his loyalties, even if this new place was to be what they branded themselves as. Truth be told he was happy for this change, the religious aspect of the Crusade had never really stuck with him well. He’d never bothered with pretending to be some pious sheep, now perhaps he could have peace from it. His lit ruby gaze drifted from face to face, he would be once again finding his place within a new faction.

That was irksome, he’d finally felt settled and now this had to happen. Still, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to find work, one library was much the same as any other. Though the real work was aiding in the endeavours of the faction itself, but that would come in time. There was one person not present who he was a bit disappointed at not seeing [member="Crystal"] had become the person he’d seen more frequently than any other within the Crusade. He had thought she’d be at this gathering, but she wasn’t. He’d have to seek her out sometime later.

 

[Kitt Solo]

[member="Ashin Varanin"] [member="Anders Sivas"] [member="Lucianus Adair"] [member="Gavin Ovmar"] @everyone

She hadn't been among the Fringe members since her resignation. Since everything that happened with Jared. She was proud of everyone. The enthusiasm was catching, especially to one of the empath's in the room. She made sure to make her rounds and congratulate everyone.

She cherished the little, silly things: the way Spencer loved her cake and the looks Ashin gave her when she thought she wasn't looking (even the looks when she knew she WAS looking across the room), Gavin's goofy smile and musical grace, Lucien's impeccable taste in servants even with his inner softness, Sargon's viewing of herself as a kid, and Adair....all of Adair. There were others of course. And new members of the Fringe she hadn't yet met.

This would be the first and last time she would see them. Any of them. Which made it all the more hard to leave.

She had changed and lost her place here and it was time to congratulate others and move on.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

I cover a snort with my hand and try to stiffle the giggle burbling in my throat. I roll my hazel eyes at [member="Mikhail Shorn"] and bite my lower lip. "Let them have their beliefs, if it keeps them warm at night." I lean closer, brushing the back of my fingers against Mikhail's hand and wrap one around his. My fingers touch against the ring I made him, I can't help the smirk on my face, the way my skin glows.

'I know what keeps me warm at night and it isn't a Morossi deity.' I reply telepathically, letting my mental voice dance across Mikhail's mind with a few choice mental images.

One of the happiest days of my life happened when I got elected to the Fringe High Council. . . well, other than Mikhail mistakenly thinking I was there to hit on Lucien's wife-to-be Meret and strung me up by my neck 200 floors up. Still, serving on the Fringe's High Council has been the highlight of my young life, the raison d'être for my continued stay in the Unknown Reaches and the boon of my recent past.

Getting the Helix Medal and a Lifetime Achievement Award is a shining highlight in my political career. The shining metal of the gifts, the titles given make my pride swell as my belly swells, albeit hidden under the high waistband and flowing fabric of my floor length dress. There is another layer of protection for the future children of Mikhail and I: a Force cloak to avoid any pesky mentalist exes or others of nefarious natures putting myself and my growing children in danger. Bucket makes a joke, or Mikhail makes one and I don't catch it.

My eyebrows twitch. My hand drops from Mikhail's and I glance around the room to the sudden chill of being unwelcomed in my beloved home. The hand of [member="Jared Ovmar"] has been played. He's systematically getting rid of me, erasing me, destroying me in pieces. Mikhail walked off to find the punch bowl, and the threat hits me with a terrific weight.

"Wait. . ." I blink and let my lips part and hang open. "Emeritus. . . did I get kicked out of my job?" I whisper, looking up to the podium. High Councillor for Life . . . Emeritus. I look up from my glass of club soda and search for the familiarity of [member="Kitt Solo"] through the crowd. Maybe she'll know. . . but ultimately I have put my sights upon those of a less scrutable nature where the Fringe is concerned. Mikhail as my lover, Kitt as my best friend, Lucien and his son, wrong choices to be politically viable. . . what room of jackals do I now find?

I am through a glass into another dimension where everything is two steps to the left of my feet and the world's gone from under me. "Bucket. . . you do look like a rhombus."

"Ah! Buh! Droid abuse!" Bucket pipes up.

There's a moment when the hairs curl up the back of your neck, when your pupils dilate and your hands jitter and your spinal column begins to tingle that you realize it's time to get out. It's as if your entire body is precognitive and sees danger in parsecs before your eyes catch up. As I stare at the face of [member="Ashin Varanin"] I know the electric surge breaking down my spine is significant of the only mercy from her I'll receive.

She gave me notice in front of a throng of witnesses, my lover by my side. I can feel Jared gloating from here. He knew how much the Fringe has meant to me, and there he is stripping it from me in one more clashing moment of pain. I press my lips together and gulp, feeling that electric chill radiate from my spine to my ribcage.

Ashin Varanin just gave me the only and easiest out I'm likely to get and it's hitting me in the chest that I should put my shoulders back and take it. After all, another few months and I'll be too pregnant to waddle in a straight line, let alone run a military. I walk up to Kitt and put my hand on my best friend's shoulder.

"I think we need to go." I can't help the tremble to my lips. "H-how's you, Kitt?"

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"[member="Mikhail Shorn"]."

The voice of one so familiar, and so dark, wafted across the air as the owner of the voice materialized from a nearby crowd. He was dressed in his traditional former wear, extravagent garb made of ebony, scarlet, and gold silk outfitted with leather boots, belt, and gloves. His graying black hair was pulled back behind his ears and out of his face, and his long beard was neat and trimmed. His mouth curled into a sneer as he approached the individual whom he's both fought with and again over the many years of his life. "Charming as ever, aren't we old friend?" Chuckled Kaine Zambrano, Sith Lord, war criminal, and Emperor of the Epicanthix, as he approached Shorn and the object of his ire, which happened to be some poor unfortunate punch bowl.

"You look like you got run over twice by a speeder."

 

[Allyson Locke]

Announcements and award ceremonies seemed to be the highlight of any Fringer’s life. The military brought glory and the people rejoiced. The faction started small drawing in planets that were under hell from the beings that ran the wild unknown region. Peace, if that word could describe what happened while out in the unknown region now a days, had fallen upon the heads of every citizen of the Fringe. People migrated to its spoils and bore her crest upon their chests, they were proud and that made Spencer smile. It started small, but grew. The dream she shared with Ashin, finally growing into something unimaginable.

Despite all of this, Spencer was off near the kitchen searching for the one thing she always searched for when these things gathered. Having some influence or the influence that she pretended to have - she usually demanded there be a table of sweets namely cake. Spencer continued to look around seeing that the layout of the party seemed simple, frowning she figured Ashin had some part of the design - the woman was so plain sometimes. Yet there was no dessert table. She heard Ashin speak in the background of her mind congratulating people on accomplishments and other things. Promotions especially hears went over her head. The applause for her being named to the council went unheard in the determined woman’s mind, she just wanted a slice of cake.

Frustration mounted as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, the strapless short white dress crumpled slightly as she leaned against the nearby wall. Her lips pouted and her brow wrinkled as she wondered who’s grand idea was to deny her a dessert table. She would in other cases use her mental affinity to find out who thought it would be a great idea, but with the number of known empaths in the room - she decided it would be best to protect herself, especially with what she had been briefed when Ashin returned home only a few weeks ago. Politics were something she cared about, unless she was searching for the cake.

For now though, she pouted and longed for the velvety texture of a good cake.

[member="Ashin Varanin"] [member="Jared Ovmar"]

 

[Ereza]

Sitting quietly amidst her new company, Aesir Inari watched the proceedings from behind her silver half mask, content to take in all the new faces she would come to call familiar. She'd never traveled to Fringe space and never kept their acquaintance. Sure, a short chat here or there with a High Councilor or Varanin had been made, but never had she experienced their taste of kinship and solidarity. It was one quite similar, she found, to that of Moross. A melting pot of all races, cultures, and creeds, but where they differed sat squarely in that of belief.

She did not expect the Morossi faith to be taken by those of the Fringe. She never intended to ask for it. In fact, what she intended for the faith was a plan only known to herself and Soliael. Very few knew of the coming days challenges, Inari believed. Fewer yet were actually prepared for them.

The Reviver offered Ashin a respectable nod from her seat at the woman's mention, wholly content with the welcome given to her and her people by the once Dark Empress. It would take time to integrate the Morossi Crusaders into the Fringe, but trials and tribulations had a way of pushing things along. She sipped at a glass of Blodwyne and let her eyes search the crowds for one face already of familiar, now named High Councilor. A smile spread there, Inari joined the applause, feeling pride swell within her chest.

"That is the man you'll want to speak to, Serian," she said gently to the Archivist seated nearby and motioned to Lord [member="Dissero"] seated amongst his Fringe brethren, "to help find your new place here within the Fringe."

[member="Serian Loria"]

 

[Arage Bao]

An old man sat at a table away from the party and its cheers. He wasn’t gloating, but neither was he experiencing regret for the choice he had made. The table was empty, several chairs unoccupied, the man was eating cake, simply because it brought him pleasure to enjoy something simple in life.

One could even say that this old man was not entirely Jared Ovmar, and one would not be far away from the truth. Few if any knew about Lord Ovmar these days, even fewer would actually be able to link this old man towards Ovmar, had it been Ovmar of old he would have been partying in the thick of it, standing behind [member="Ashin Varanin"] as she brought down the hammer.

He would have been there and enjoyed it all. Eccentricities of the young, perhaps or maybe the old man was simply kidding himself and wallowing in his own superiority by pretending to be humble. Only Ovmar would know the actual truth.

Anyway.

Somewhere in the distance he could feel [member="Spencer Jacobs"] being slightly annoyed, a smile, followed by the most subtle of approaching through the bond that they had shared for such a long time. Master and Apprentice. It had been a while.

“I managed to save some cake for you.” the Sith Lord, or perhaps the former Sith Lord was more accurate of a description, would relay to her. “Zambrano seemed to love it very much.”

Another moment passed, before he reached out towards the imp running around and causing all kinds of troubles to the party-goers. He wasn’t her father, or her mother for that matter, but they had established a working ethic before. They knew what were to each other.

“Got some cake, Ib. Gotta move fast though, before your mom eats it all.”

Perhaps [member="Ibaris Varanin-Jacobs"] would join him, or perhaps she would be more interested in causing a bit more chaos.

That would be her decision to make.

 

[Dissero]

Archivist. Collector. Master of Vaults. Alchemist.

"What," Dissero sat in a moment of shock and disbelief, between [member="Cerita Sarova"] and [member="Verie Lacroix"], at a table somewhere towards the center of the hall. He was surrounded by fellow researchers, archivist, and studious beings alike, and felt the weight of their eyes settle on him like a strange sort of spell.

Though he worked primarily in private, Dissero had made a few efforts to establish a connected archival department within the Fringe to unify and codify the vast amounts of information and knowledge that had accrued here over the years. He hadn't gotten far, at least not to much to his own knowledge, but apparently they'd been paying attention. After all, it hadn't been long since Sabarene where he'd requested an audience with [member="Manu Xextos"] in order to negotiate establishing a Fringe Archive on the planet. Interruptions abound, what was accomplished was more or less what he had expected at such an event. He'd not been back yet, but he'd had other things that needed tending to.

"Did she just say..." he cast a sideways glance at Cerita, "what I think she said?"

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Dissero"]

‘Seems so, Master.’ the girl replied with a smirk, it seemed that everyone had known about his upcoming promotion except maybe [member="Dissero"] himself. Such was the way of things usually, the center of attention ain’t getting the part he played until he gets tapped on the nose a bit. Fact was that by large? Di deserved this promotion more than most people did.

Worked endlessly, provided support when needed, hell… saved Ovmar from scary flying unicorns (though that was a public secret). Can’t really say ‘thank you’ better than by giving him a hoard of new responsibilities and headaches, can ya?

Cerita raised her glass. ‘To Lord Dissero and the upcoming sleepless nights full of bureaucratic work!’ and then she took a bold sip.

Rave would have been proud.

 

[Dissero]

"Somebody get me another drink."

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

Soliael coughed into his fist.

Unlike Amorella he chose to wear no mask, for he did not attend as a God. The time for that was slowly passing, though that was something that he kept to himself and Amorella. He looked at her across the room, spotting the bracelet on her wrist, he smiled at that, but then quickly turned away to face Ashin and the other High Councilors.

He frowned slightly.

There seemed something off about this ceremony, as though events had transpired that he had not quite been privy too.

Of course he wasn't insulted by that, not in the least. The Fringe had a right to their secrets, a right to their clandestine activities. They could do as they pleased, especially when it came to the highest peaks of their government, it simply drove the curiosity within Soliael, made him wonder what had actually happened. He assumed that someone had just gotten screwed over.

Soliael frowned slightly, then scanned the crowd. He knew a surprising amount of people here, though he was looking for one in particular. His eyes passed over face after face, finally landing on one that was once again familiar.

He smiled slightly, spotting out one of the names that had been called out.

Unconsciously Soliael touched the ring on his middle finger, spinning it slightly before beginning to take heavy weighted steps towards his uncle.

 

[Flint Michigan]

((Consulted Faction Admin [member="Jared Ovmar"] and he said he was cool with me posting))

Unbeknownst to [member="Kitt Solo"] she wasn't the only member of the Detroit Nexu at the O'Reen Commemoration Gala. Unlike his Mechanic however, Flint wasn't here to reminisce with old friends, say some goodbyes, or drink it up in a last hurrah. Though if history was any indicator he'd probably be dragging an overly drunk Kitt back to ship later. Woman simply couldn't deny a bottle it seemed. They might have to work that one out later. But for now Flint was on important business. Namely the business of making money. More specifically delivering food. After all those years in the military and scrounging up the money for a decent tramp freighter he was no better than a teenager driving the stars at his local Pizza the Hutt. Least these Fringers were paying bank.

"What in the nine hells are you doin getting here so late? You were supposed to get here at 1800!" The backroom manager was the first to 'greet' him.

"Paperwork says 1900 boss." Flint says and hands him datapad.

"1900?!?! You calling me a liar! You cross me and I'll make sure SSS never ships to this side of-" He says as he looks at the datapad and finally stops as he sees '1900' as the delivery time. "Alrighty Mr. Michigan, lemme just look at the cargo." He backpedals and Flint smiles, before heading into the ship.


"Five tons of pizza." Flint says as they reach the loading bay and he points out cargo. "Three tons of Vaapad Lessons, Two tons of chips, one ton of dip, and then the ten ton 'special package' is back there." Flint says as he points out each product. The backroom manager goes through each product meticulously to make sure there's no damages or spills. Though a bit disgruntled he finds everything to his satisfaction and begins wiring credits to Flint's account.


"So I'm curious." Flint begins.

"We don't pay you to be curious." The Backroom manager replied.

"You don't pay me not to be curious either." Flint said and the manager didn't reply. "What is the 'special package'? Everything else is food, but why keep food so secret?" The backroom manager put on a smile, the looked around.

"You won't tell anybody?"

"Not a soul." Flint replied.

"Well, [member="Ashin Varanin"], the Grand Admiral and Arbiter of the Fringe, learned one way or another that her wife, [member="Spencer Jacobs"] was getting promoted to High Councillor today. So she goes an extra mile, finds the best confectioner this side of Coruscant and tells them to make a massive cake for her."

"That entire thing is a cake?" Flint asked.

"Yeah. Sweet isn't it? Can't wait to see the look on the High Councillor's face when she sees it."

 

[Manu Xextos]

[member="Dissero"]

Manu Xextos saw the speech from [member="Ashin Varanin"] and smiled. Looked like things were going to turn out alright. Yet, he couldn't help but stifle a laugh. Dissero looked about fit to be tied in a loop and thrown in a barrel of tiger-monkeys. The Jedi Master (dressed in his Admiral's uniform for tonight) grabbed a couple of stiff drinks and walked over to the Archivist.

"Here ya go, buddy. Congrats! Gonna need it." Keeping his mouth mostly shut, Manu remembered the day he and his wife found out she was the Kae of the Echani. They'd been two crazy-in-love newlyweds with no goals but living between the Echani and the Jedi and in a day, bam! You're now the Royal Family, go!

The look on Dissero's face was much the same Manu remembered on his own. He sipped his drink and patted Dissero on the shoulder. "So I was mind-warped on Sabarene. So busy, you know? Totally didn't mean to blow you off, dude. Been thinking on that Archive of yours. There're two locations I can think of being a fit for it. One's the Aberash Temple on the shore of the ocean. Beautiful place, protected by Jedi and overall a place you could work without being disturbed. The other's the city of Abha. We could build a place for you easy enough there, to your specs of course. I know we'd all love to have an Archive on Sabarene. So, what do you need from little me, eh?" The seven foot man said with a grin and another sip of his drink.

Yipes. That stuff was something strong.

 

[Dissero]

Ashen-faced and flabberghasted, the Archivist stared at the offered drink dimly.

"Thanks," he replied over a wheezy breath before turning starless eyes up at [member="Manu Xextos"] to listen to the very tall man.

Archives. On Sabarene. Temple. City. Archives.

Slowly, he reached for his drink. Slowly, he lifted it for a swig. Cough.

Hrk. Wide eyes.

Did Manu just give him a Vaapad Lesson?

"G-great-gah."

 

[Serian Loria]

[member="Amorella Mae"]

He gave a nod, but didn’t speak, there would be time for that later. Were he to approach the man now would be bad form, besides it looked like the man was struggling with his own problems. His attention was caught by a familiar and rather unwelcome sight of [member="Mikhail Shorn"] . That sent a smolder of anger through his blood, but he calmed himself, for now he had to be content that he knew where the man was. It was a pity that he looked in good health, but such was how things were. He looked over at Inari “I am rather surprised at these recent events my lady. Has your sleep been as uneasy as mine? It seems a weird coincidence that this has happened on the heels of the trouble I’ve been having.”

He hoped she’d have an answer because otherwise he was lost. He had others he could talk to [member="Soliael Devin Talith"] was one such, after all for the moment he still served him. He would have to ask him if he was on the detail that would be moving the library, or if it was to be moved at all. There was so much work to be done he couldn’t begin to fathom it all, another reason why he would have to speak to Dissero. “Would you like me to fetch you a drink?”

Though he would be stoutly avoiding the punch table, there was more to offer than merely flavored water and that is what he aimed to get.

 

[Manu Xextos]

Manu very likely may have given [member="Dissero"] a Vapaad Lesson. He'd not thought much of going to the bar and saying 'give me something strong'. What would it be? Probably a port of some kind! Or a Whiskey! Maybe a nice mixed beverage with a distilled liquor.

Oh no, this was the Fringe and there would be no dainty drinks. The Echani nearly went crosseyed as he took another sip. "Whelp! Hhhhh..." He smacked his lips a couple of times and coughed. "Said you needed it. Yeowch. You're welcome, I think. . ."

Sucking another sip down his gullet, Manu thanked the Fringe Gods that Vapaad Lessons weren't always made with turpentine. Not always. . . "S'yeah. Sabarene. Archive. . Gonna be neat."

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

Soliael didn't approach any further when he found Dissero surrounded by a hundred others.

He had no interest in getting mixed up in that nest of bees. Instead he simply locked eyes with his uncle for a few moments, and then sent him a nod. When their gazes went away from each other Soliael coughed into his fist again. Waves of boredom drove off of him, and as he inspected his hand and saw the ring upon it he wondered if Kira could feel just how bored he was.

Parties had never been his thing.

Maybe his mother was at fault for that.

He frowned briefly, what an odd thought. He had not thought of Quietus since telling Kira about her. Soliaels gaze shifted towards Amorella for a few seconds. Maybe being surrounded by all this family had him thinking nostalgically.

Soliael shook his head.

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

It felt strange, truth be told, to be dressed up in a room full of people she knew better in planning strategy or in battle against the Fringe’s enemies. Nice, but strange. She didn’t make it often to functions like this but she hoped it didn’t give anyone the impression that she was anything less than dedicated to their organization. It had been the Fringe that had taken her in a decade ago, the Fringe that had replaced her arm, the Fringe that she called home before all other homes despite what she might do in her free time and outside its borders.

So after Ashin finished her speech she joined in the applause congratulating those most deserving and then mingled in to the crowd as the light drone of conversation took over.

She could feel him above all others, a soft connection molded by time and the changes he’d gone through. Almost unrecognizable, she found herself smiling despite it when she saw [member="Jared Ovmar"] hoarding cake – pastry or pebbles, all the same.

Sweeping over to the table he presided over by himself she lowered herself in to a chair next to him, a vision in eggshell and silver with a hem that brushed the floor, a glass of something stronger between the delicate fingers she had left. “I hope there’s enough for me too,” she teased quietly, looking out at the crowd as she settled in next to him.