Announcements and Celebration (Lords of the Fringe)

[Allyson Locke]

Apparently this was funny to Anaya, it wasn't funny at all to poor Spencer. The blonde turned her head quickly away from the woman, but obviously not in time to avoid the lips of the succubus. Her whisper as well as her lips danced against her ear. Spencer's vivid memory recollection quickly recalled that evening. A frown appeared on her face as she remembered what had happened to one of her favorite dresses. Spencer grumbled slightly under her breath, "Ashin and her fire." A hand rose from her lap as she rubbed the back of her neck feeling the phantom pains of the morning after their version of throne breaking. Shooting Anaya a sideways glance, "I liked that dress you know."

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, not many people have seen her like that and deep down somewhere she enjoyed what had happened. Though her more sensible and logical side knew it was only to get to Ashin. "I only remember my wife, I do apologize that I completely forgot you were there." [member="Anaya Fen"]

 

[Arage Bao]

In the grand scheme of things Ovmar had been willing to let it all just play out. Most of it had been innocent banter and that was fine, even if some people did not want to admit or acknowledge it, they were a family. A disfunctional family, one with deep-running feuds, inherent underlining issues and troubles, but most of them had fought together, bled together, sweat and spend tears together. Some of them forgot this when emotions ran high and some were far removed from the realization, most had their heads so far up their asses they didn't even see it.

But Jared saw, and so he finally saw fit to intervene. 'Spens, you are now a High Councilor of the Fringe and a Master of the Force in your own right, stop blushing like a twelve-year old school girl. She is just teasing you.' he scolded, before putting those calm blue eyes on Anaya. 'And you, stop messing with her, you should know better by now.'

The Sith Lord sighed and shook his head, he couldn't believe that out of all people he had suddenly become the partypooper. In an ancient past he would have been the one causing trouble, now he somehow got stuck into the role of a mediator.

'At least you guys like my cake, yes, I made it myself.'

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya winked. "You keep telling yourself that pussycat. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Then Jared spoke up, and Anaya looked at him, her smirk still in place, but a dark glimmer in her eyes. "If she didn't make it so easy, I wouldn't tease her so. Fact of the matter is," she looked back at Spencer "I'm under the High Councillor's skin and no amount of exfoliation will get rid of me." She reached out and patted Spencer's arm "Don't worry pussycat, daddy dearest has spoken up... I'll stop teasing."

She sat back, then clicked her fingers mocking realization crossing her features. "Oh wait," she tilted her head "I just remembered, you don't control me."

[member="Jared Ovmar"] [member="Spencer Jacobs"]

 

[Ibaris Varanin]

Finally, cake was hers and she wasted no time whatsoever in the act of diving into the fluffy sweetness, not even trying to keep it off of her face like she did with normal food. No, cake was something to be enjoyed with abandon, to be eaten with the eyes and mouth, and felt with the tongue... and face. Mama's commentary about the dwindling fecal habits of her closest companion were momentarily ignored as she shoveled another forkful into her mouth, but were met with narrowed eyes leveled at her mother for the thought of cleaning up after the barkspawn and words that waited until she had chewed and swallowed. Her cheeks for their part were speckled with cake and lightly smeared at the corners of the mouth with icing.

"Adas is two years old, Mama," she said, fork coming up to make a jabbing point at the obviously older blonde, "and you know he only does it when he's excited, and not even all the time anymore."

The girl beamed with some pride at that, lowering the fork to take up another forkful of the self control-abolishing substance, and promptly inserting it into her waiting mouth. This was when the old man started talking to her. Annoying, all these people interrupting her cake-eating experience. She would sigh or snort derisively, if not for a mouth full of the stuff. Instead, she watched and listened, nodding insistently at his hopes that she had been reading the materials and otherwise, glancing every so many seconds at the shiny metal balls. When he finished explaining, all he got from her was a noise that sounded affirmative as she'd already finished with a mouthful and moved straight on to another, finally putting the fork down beside the large, half-finished piece of cake. She was about to reach for a few of the beads as she chewed when she finally noticed that there was cake on her hands. This was when the pretty, dark-haired woman spoke to her. Hazel eyes lifted slowly as her head turned to the side and up. She blinked.

"Hi, Matsu, I'm Ibaris."

One cheesy grin later, and she was wiping her hands on a napkin before starting in on the beads, grabbing a few of them off the table and... now, it seemed, trying her hardest to pretend she wasn't hearing the kind of tones and words she was hearing. A rare sight it was, an uncomfortable Ibaris. So absorbed the adults were in their 'conversation' that it was unlikely any of them noticed that the seven-year-old had oozed out of her seat and under the table, taking beads and cake with her.

Earplugs would have been better.

[member="Spencer Jacobs"] | [member="Jared Ovmar"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Anaya Fen"]​

 

[Ereza]

"Hm," a faint smirk, a nod of agreement, "yes that's likely for the better. I will not say a word ... though I hardly think anything said to him from this point on tonight will be remembered," the young woman indicated her older brother now currently embroiled with a drink she'd heard mention of once before.

Vapaad Lesson.

Almost as treacherous as introducing a Jedi significant other to the matriarch of the family. Amorella would certainly take her chances with the drink, first, if it ever came down to choice.

"What will you do then... are you leaving to join her? Is she coming here? I haven't seen ... well, any Jedi within the Fringe so far, but I haven't met everyone yet either."

[member="Soliael Devin Talith"]

 

[Kitt Solo]

[member="Flint Michigan"]

Unfortunately, she was a horrible dancer. Fortunately, with a good dancer like Flint, she seemed more on the side of average. After a few missteps, mumbled apologies, and some SERIOUS REGRETS about not having more alcohol before this dance, she finally started to get it....mostly.

Rough someone up?

She caught a quick glance of [member="Mikhail Shorn"] and laughed, assuming that was who Flint meant. "Nope. That is the last person I want you to mess with or anywhere near. Things here just feel...off. You know, with my mumbo-jumbo force powers."

A sad smile crossed her lips. But it didn't last. "I considered most of these people my family and it's bittersweet to leave. Even if it's what I need right now. You know?"

 

[Flint Michigan]

[member="Kitt Solo"]

Kitt took a little while to figure out when he was leading her to spin or switch handholds or come together for a whip, but as the music played on she began to recognize the slight tugs and pulls of his hand. Staying more and more on beat, colliding into less people, and beginning to flow with the music rather than react to it. Kitt glanced over to one of the gay men Flint met briefly before laughing and telling him she'd rather not have Flint tussle with him. Flint was actually referring to the High Councillor who she thought killed her sister, and now thought that [member="Mikhail Shorn"] was that man. Except, he didn't seem to carry himself like a politician. And he wouldn't have picked up Kitt from his ship if he was the guy . . . Naw, he wasn't the guy. There was a miscommunication somewhere between them.

"Oh yeah, I get what you're saying." Flint said as the continued their dance. "Sometimes you just need to get out and not look back." He said with more experience than he'd have liked. "But for every new system you get into there's a new set of stars and planets for you explore."

 

[Valik]

Truth be told, life as a fetus was nowhere near as exciting as one might think it would be. Sure, the revenge factor with messing with [member="Mikhail Shorn"]'s life was extremely enticing, but that was a long-term plan, and Valik had things to do in the short-term. That and Andra had projected entirely too many memories and images into his mind that he'd rather not have seen or experienced. Perhaps is she had taken his cure things could have been different, but their were simply too many warm feelings around for Valik to be comfortable. So detecting that Andra was in a rather large environment with a slew of potential hosts he opened his mind, attempted to sense out into the world on who to find. Who to inhabit.

He felt familiar presences. One that he once called Empress, one that was her wife, one that was her child, one that he was an arguable friend, one that had 'killed' him not long ago. There was one though, that was familiar, if only vaguely. A female, Force user, and a strong one at that. She felt like . . . Someone he'd killed. Someone he'd debated morality and the Force with while she took a spectral form. But she wasn't Tahira. She was . . . Kitt. [member="Kitt Solo"]. The one who'd helped to give him a Blackwing-Virus infested unicorn. He wondered, was her Captain there? He extended his reach, his vision in the Force. It was faint, but it was there. He was. Her emotions and his, intertwined together. Some in the galaxy might call it a beautiful thing. Valik was among those, but for different reasons. Care like that? Emotions like that? Wonderful toys to play with.

Leaving Lucien Sivas-Shorn and the womb of her mother [member="Anders Sivas"] his midi no, maxi-chlorians headed towards a new host. A spacer of simple origins, lacking power, having a 'Forcist' Mind. And he took that host as his own. Kitt might have been able to detect what was going on if she had Midi-Chlorian Manipulation or Art of the Small, but the chances were unlikely. Even if she could have sensed him, what would she be able to do without killing her companion?

The party might have started an hour ago but for Valik? It was just beginning.

 

[Chrysa Vanagor]

She was marvelously late.

But it didn't matter. She was not among those that needed to be there early, nor did she care for those who simply went to be seen and then left early. The young woman wanted to make an entrance, and with any luck, there would be someone interesting enough to be worth the effort that had gone into her appearance for the evening. Well, there was someone who was worth that and more, but she had no idea if he was attending the evening's festivities. Her Master kept his own schedule, and she was naturally not privy to it if she did not need to be. A fact she accepted as she well knew her place.

The comfortably appointed vehicle came to a stop, and the door at her side opened. An attendant held out his hand, which she graciously took and stepped out of the vehicle. A nice touch, Chrysothemis thought, smiling softly at him by way of thanks as he escorted her to the door. It opened before her, and she strode inside, depositing her invitation upon the waiting tray before making her way to the space where the party was taking place.

Even if there were not liveried attendants every few feet, it would have been possible to find the place simply by following the sounds that echoed through the hallways and through the Force. There was a veritable buffet of emotional intrigue being broadcast every which way, and Chrysa was glad she'd decided to attend. A great deal of pleasure was going to be had simply with the observation of the drama that was certain to be flung into the proverbial fan.

Fingers smoothed out the short leather dress and ensured that she was ready before she stepped into the room itself. Glittering black eyes drank in the sight presented, looking at those Fringers there assembled, and picking out the Morossians in the crowd as those she did not yet recognize.

A wicked smile curled glossy, crimson lips.

It was going to be a good night.

 

[Aran Finn]

"But if we're really going to talk about girlfriends I'll direct the audience's attention to gallery item number 1. Aren't they just the cutest?"

[member="Mikhail Shorn"] directed Alen's attention to [member="Flint Michigan"] and [member="Kitt Solo"] as they whirled around the dance floor, completely oblivious. Na'Varro eyed them for a second and then crossed his arms, smirking amusedly back at the other Sith Lord. There was some other old Sith Lord dude hanging around. The bearded man knew him by reputation, but didn't engage. Shorn was who he was conversating with, and Kitt and her new bf were his primary focus.

"Almost as cute as you and whatsherface." He chuckled. "Or whathisface ... has it ever occurred to you that she could be a man who's pretending to be a woman who's pretending to be a man?"

Na'Varro took a swig of lager, and briefly entertained the notion of going over there and saying hello. It would be awkward. Awkwardness breeds drama, and drama is excellent. Ah feth it. The decision was made in a second.

"I'm gonna go make Kitt uncomfortable for a bit. 'Scuse me, lad."

Alen dropped his empty beer bottle in Shorn's general vicinity and ambled over to the dancing couple with a giant, poop-eating grin on his face. As he walked he snagged another beer and focused his mental energy on his ex-girlfriend. Her mind would suddenly be filled with his amused, cocky presence.

Hey princess. Did you miss me? Na'Varro gave her mind a very distinct prod. Physically, the amused, slightly unhinged smile remained. Oh boy.

 

[Lucien Cordel]

1,2,3 and collapse ... Andra played her role with a skill not uncommon in the circles of high society. Lucien's role was to turn the farce into a reality. He laid his hand over Andra's eyes attacking her mind until she was out cold "You server , go and fetch Lord [member="Mikhail Shorn"] tell him Lord Lucien says his wife needs to leave then tell my chauffeur to bring the car around ... Oh and if news of this reachs Lord Ovmar I will see to it that your thrown into a star" the server nodded, gulped and retreated back into the main ballroom.

A buzz in his pocket drew his attention away from the uncouncious form Of lady sivas. The buzz was a herald of his redemption. He smiled at least he could still pretend he had enough power to play hard to get.

Lady [member="Ashin Varanin"]

I concur we need to talk, come to my lakehouse here on the capital make sure you arrive after seven Pm

Regards Lucien

 

[Soliath Devin Talith]

[member="Amorella Mae"]

“I will go to her, eventually. First I feel the need to venture to Onderon.” He mulled his words for a few seconds, then looked down at Amorella. “Don't worry, I won't leave you here all by yourself. Travel comes easily to me now.”

He left it cryptically at that.

The truth was Soliael had no desire to stay in Fringe space, he would aid in their battles, and in the running of his nation still, but he did not need to be as present as before. He now had time to push into other endeavors, the first of which would be a quick journey to Onderon.

“Besides, I doubt Kira would be very welcome here.” Soliael looked about the room, catching sight of Anaya for the firs time. He raised an eyebrow as he saw her hanging off of Jared, then smirked at his friend, shaking his head as he did so.

Turning back to Amore he smiled at her.

 

[Kitt Solo]

[member="Valik"] - only @ing one of you troll faces [member="Alen Na'Varro"]

Get out and not look back. If only things were that easy...

She may have sensed the smallest of shifts in Flint's emotions when Valik joined in so politely. But it wasn't enough for the master empath to hone-in further on the why of the shift. If she was to ponder it more, those thoughts would've been quickly derailed anyway by a very unexpected and familiar presence.

Alen

She stumbled back, out of Flint's arms at the mental nudge and familiar presence. Hip banged against a server droid that pitched forward, sending a tray full of champagne glasses flying through the air in [member="Spencer Jacobs"] and company's general direction. Another dancer knocked her in her shoulder, sending her on a half-spin to the edge of the punch table and off the dance-floor.

She caught herself there.

Myrtle-ellipses wildly looked around the dance floor. It didn't take her long to zero in on that poop-eating grin. That fart face.

Caught off-guard, shocked. angry, confused, annoyed, flustered, relieved - all of these and none of these caused her to push off the punch-bowl table and launch herself into the sith lord's arms. She hugged him, for a long time. "You're alive." The acknowledgement was there, the relief evident in her tone.

Hurt and anger quickly trickled into her feelings of relief. She released her arms around him, stepped back, and went to slap him on his bearded face. The entire time, she knew Flint was watching.

"Gorammit Alen."

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Mikhail Shorn watched the chaos, mischief glinting in eyes that shone like moonlight on a glacier. He flicked a finger as Kitt stumbled and a servitor standing nearby suddenly tripped as well, falling toward Kitt... along with the entire platter of champagne glasses.

"Oops."

Shrug. Smirk.


[member="Kitt Solo"] [member="Valik"] [member="Alen Na'Varro"] [member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Not Ordo]

Gavin shot a tumbler of booze. The huge freaking olive in the drink got caught in his drunken throat and he collapsed on the bar.

 

[Flint Michigan]

[member="Kitt Solo"] [member="Alen Na'Varro"]

Flint, or was it Valik? noticed that Kitt slipped out of his hands, fumbling and bumbling around the dance floor with an obvious purpose. With no word that she was ducking out, or why she was ducking out, the maybe-spacer-maybe-alchemist had no idea where she was going, or why.

"Kitt, where you going?" He said and headed off the of dance floor, attempting to follow her trail without being impeded in the wake of her hip and shoulder motions. Amazing how a lady with talent in the Force like hers could have so little spatial awareness. Or maybe she just a lot of spatial awareness and she was causing a trail like that on purpose. Maybe-Flint wasn't sure. But the way she looked at the bearded man? The length of that embrace? He was sure of one thing. The bearded man was her last man, the one he'd talked about.

In the moment neither Flint nor Valik would know what to say and so one, or perhaps the other, merely watched on. The empath would feel two conflicting emotions from the man, one of intense concern and sorrow, the other of immense curiosity. The emotions would be slightly off-touch with one another, as if they came from differing sources. Yet neither emotion would bring the spacer's body to action, it being frozen in place, an onlooker to events yet to unfold.

 

[Aran Finn]

Alen's head was turned to the right by the force of the slap, and there it remained for a second or two. The quasi-Sith Lord could taste blood where the inside of his cheek had cut against his teeth, and where his teeth met his lips. Two fingers reached up and wiped away the blood. He stared at it a second. Grinned. Head turned back to Kitt. Grin widened, and his eyes glinted unreadably. I probably deserved that, he thought.

"You should know by now that turns me on," he said. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what his game was, exactly. Or what he was doing. Or why he was here, and not out there where he should be. At the end of the day, he supposed it didn't matter. We're all going to die, he thought, and the words echoed through his mind. We're all going to die. The medal and its renown meant nothing. What he and Kitt once had meant nothing. Dead men forget.

Patterns of thought like that were few and far between now, and they passed like bad weather passes. Eyes flicked to [member="Flint Michigan"], grin still remaining. They lingered there for a bit, before returning to Kitt.

"Yeah, I'm alive. Almost died a few times there, but I guess I can't catch a break ..." He nodded over at Flint. "Who's the spud?"

[member="Kitt Solo"]

 

[Kitt Solo]

[member="Alen Na'Varro"] [member="Flint Michigan"] [member="Gavin Ovmar"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"]

Several things happened at once: a second set of champagne glasses flew through the air toward her, she thought she saw her old student choking by the bar, Flint seemed to be expressing two very conflicting sets of emotions that seemed more than a little off, and Alen, well, was being Alen.

She took one step into Alen. The champagne glasses shattered on the floor just behind her. Twisting at the hips, she wrapped the force around Gavin and roughly pulled his passed out body toward her. She held up an 'excuse-me' index finger in front of Alen just before her arms opened wide to catch her old student. Setting her feet apart, she promptly performed the heimlick maneuver. The olive flew through the air toward Shorn's forehead.

She waved over some medical droids and left Gavin's recovering body with them. A re-twist at the hips put her back facing off with her ex. She saw Flint still, out of the corner of her eyes. She ignored Alen's first comment. But the second one...

"Don't say that," the back of her sinuses stung as the gruff-whisper left her mouth. "You mean...meant," she corrected, "everything to me. Don't talk about your life so flippantly, like it's something easily discarded without any consequences to anyone else."

She swallowed.

She wanted to swallow away her pain, confusion, regret, anger, and sorrow. But those feelings remained as a stubborn lump in her throat. Numbly, she turned to the spud.

"Flint Michigan. I'm his mechanic and we're...definitely more than just friends. Flint, meet Alen Na'Varro. My," it was hard to say the word - to admit what he really was, to admit that things hadn't worked out for the long-haul, and to admit that even though she still loved the sith lord, it was in a different way than when they first started. "Ex."

Brow furrowed as her attention was turned to Flint and she felt that same anomaly in his emotions.

 

[Ibaris Varanin]

So there she was beneath the table, obliterating the rest of that big slice of cake, while trying to keep Adas from nosing his way into a helping of it. Mostly he knew better by now, but sometimes... well, the cake was gone, anyway, and the barkspawn settled into a one-note whine, going silent afterwards. The girl gave her fingers a good lick clean and otherwise wiped any remains of the cake away, wanting to have fairly clean fingers for the task at hand. She gave her steadfast companion a scratch behind his still-invisible ears, glad that Adas hadn't managed to get a nip of the cake because what came of that wasn't pleasant, then turned her attention to the beads.

She selected one bead from the handful that sat in the well she'd made in the fabric of her dress that hung over the space in the midst of where her legs crossed, pinching it between her still-small fingers and scrutinizing it as she'd scrutinized and drunk in every word of those books. The voices above the table were ignored as she recalled her readings, peering at the shiny blip of metal, feeling some small bump of elation at finally getting to put some of this into practice. The grin on her face was undeniable, but only Adas could see it and she wasn't even sure if he was watching anyway.

She let the Force seep in as she had been taught to do, the memory an earlier and somewhat fuzzier one in her still-short life that Mama had given her in teaching her to use her senses, which she now turned to the shiny little bead. What was that word? Molly... Mollo... Molecules! And she tried to get a feel for them, urging them to change their form, change how they interacted, how they packed together. This was the hardest part, doing it for the first time, especially since this skill touched on a broad area of ability she had yet to venture into. She knew how to feel the Force and perceive, but controlling it, or even altering the flows of the Force was uncharted territory in her very small well of experience. So, it didn't work the first time, nor did it really come to much success the second, third, or fourth time, but eventually she got it with only a few beads left. This caused a small squeal that may or may not have been heard over the adults and their talking, but she wanted to make sure it wasn't just a fluke.

So she tried again. It was easier the second time! Not by much, but still, it was something. The molecules did her bidding and effected the desired shift in the shine on the bead. She did this again and again until all the beads were glossy. Who knows how long she was under that table? She certainly didn't, but she was having fun conquering something.

Though... she did feel a bit thirsty, and she had to show proof that she'd done it, so... she did what any child would surely have done, and wriggled out from under the table just enough to lay her head on her canine companion and peer upwards at where her uncle was sitting.

"Hey, Uncle Jared. Uncle Jared. Uncle Jared? UNCLE JARED!" A hand shot upwards, holding one glossy bead. "I DID IT! I DID ALL OF THEM!"

Was she interrupting the conversation? She didn't care. This was important.

​

[member="Spencer Jacobs"] | [member="Jared Ovmar"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Anaya Fen"]​