Dominion CIS Mix Tape || CIS Dominion of Har Binande

[Fauvel Astier]

Wearing: XxX.
Tagging: Abel Denko ~ Vanya Aklin ~ Open.

​

What not too long ago would have earned a questioning eyebrow raise from the young witch was now instead met with a smile as her clawed fist bumped against his. He looked well too, outwardly, but Fauvel could sense the hints of...sadness looming below the surface. She knew the reason, and had decided to not bring it up. Emotions were not something she was particularly good at, but diversion was. She could only offer the solace the company of a friend brought and hope tonight would allow him to have some fun and focus on brighter matters.

"Of course, it's been nothing but restful and enjoyable days," An answered delivered with a slight smirk and the dry humor she was well known for. Abel knew well of the kind of challenges she faced in her homeworld, but no matter how tired or beaten the young lady continued on with no complaints. There was a future she envisioned, and some day it would be accomplished. Forever observant, Fauvel saw the bartender move towards the distant woman at Abel's behest, and a knowing look was spared to the Knight.

Her words were reserved for when the bartender came back, leaving a peculiar note for the noble. The Illyrian's gaze drifted towards the woman again, before returning to her friend. There was something about the lady that did not seem quite right, but for the moment it was easily ignored on account of two reasons. The first one, Abel was a grown man and she trusted him to navigate the throes of romance without getting himself caught in some chaotic mess. The second one, she was amused.

As the barkeep handed her a glass of dark red wine her smirk widened, head tilting as the glowing red gaze settled on her mentor and friend. "I see you are quick to make friends, Abel." The Young Lady teased, bringing the glass to her lips and welcoming the familiar dry sweetness of wine that scraped the mouth, followed by a bitter finish. Entertained, she pressed on with the same amused tone. "Will you not go introduce yourself?"

 

[Abel Denko]

BLACK MAGIC WOMAN

It's been nothing but restful and enjoyable days.

After the Knight's fist bumped into that of his Apprentice, her response graced his ears. The humor was as dry as the wine she favored, and elicited a genuine chuckle from the Jedi. "Restful my ass. You and sleep are complete strangers, I bet." Such were the demands of nobility. House Denko was just as demanding these days. After the split, there was a mess to navigate internally. So much so that Abel had to appoint a steward in order to keep the show running. These days, Obsidian missions were a welcome reprieve from the affairs of home.

Fortunately, tonight, Abel was not able to really think of home. Or the void where once a ring laid. Besides the arrival of his apprentice, there was a growing game being played. The Jedi had no intention of stepping into the night life again - he had all but left those fun times back on Nar Shaddaa. Yet, the gaze of the midnight woman had intrigued him. Just enough that he graced her with a fresh glass of wine. In return? The waiter stepped forward with a napkin upon his tray.

It smelled of her perfume. Had her not written neatly. Complete with a kiss.

I see you are quick to make friends, Abel. came Fauvel's quip. The Jedi simply took the napkin and set it before him, beaming. "Hardy Har Har." he said. "I'm sure you're 'making friends' back home too nowadays."

Won't he go introduce himself? Maybe. Though his head was facing forward, towards Fauvel, he kept the midnight woman in the corner of his eye. "Y'know what? I think I will. Wingman for me?" Expecting the young noble to know what 'wingman' entailed was like expecting a New Age Jedi not to be an nerf herder. But, Abel rose from his seat nonetheless. He simply tapped his temple, denoting that she should live in his head before striding forth. The Jedi defined confidence as he walked, pausing only to procure a fresh beverage for himself.

Abel did not stop before her, but rather beside her. His form leaned upon the bar, eyes looking past. "Does 'the lady at the bar' dance?"

Just what the heck was he getting into?​

Vanya Aklin || Fauvel Astier

 

[Rann Thress]

P U P P Y L O V E​

WEARING: Same Coat Just Lazy
TAG: Magdalena Lethe

Rann kept smiling at Magda like a big dumb idiot. Just being around her was...intoxicating. And she was asking about him but all he wanted to do was talk about her. She was his favorite subject. But he didn’t want to come on to strongly.​

“I uh...” he struggled to think​

What did he do? Nothing was coming to mind. All he could think of...the only thing in his mind was Magda. Nothing else mattered.​

“I...well.” He was starting to pace back and forth now, fumbling his hands over each other.​

“I...”​

He looked down. His heart was beating so much he almost expected it to be beating outside his chest. It was so loud, louder than the music.​

I just have to say it. I can’t not.​

“I...really really like you Magda. I... I can’t think about anything else. It’s the only thing on my mind. No matter how much I try to think about something else.”​

His face was hot. Like...really hot. He put a hand to his cheek expecting it to burn like a furnace with much he blushed and how embarrassed he was. But he just had to say it.​

“I’m sorry I... I don’t know what’s coming over me.” He fought every instinct to just reach out and hug Magda again...and when he felt he was losing that battle he crossed his arms over his chest and shoved both hands under his armspits to keep them contained.​

He felt like he could die. This was so embarrassing. He couldn’t even hold a conversation. He loved her so much.​

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

Rann Thress

She waited. Magda was nothing if not selectively patient for the right things. Imagining all the adventures he got himself into, careening about the galaxy with a lightsaber and the Force at close hand. How exciting that must be! How much it reminded her of her father and the stories he told of his youth, the places he'd gone and the amazing people he'd met, trained under, fought, befriended. Given her own restrictions she often found herself jealous of the lifestyle. Her sister Saelia would likely have grown to be everything she was not.

And Gabe, out there somewhere, lost to her again.

And her little brother Ivan - she did not even know if he was Force sensitive, he'd been far too young to-

“I...really really like you Magda. I... I can’t think about anything else. It’s the only thing on my mind. No matter how much I try to think about something else.”​

His face had turned beet red.

“I’m sorry I... I don’t know what’s coming over me.”​

Was he sweating?

"Uhm," now it was her turn to feel awkward. How did ... ? How do ...

"Wow."

Magda lifted her hands to gesticulate something, failed, tried again, nothing. Okay hands, go away - they folded low at her front in compliance.

She stared at him from within her visor, incapable of figuring out her opinion on the matter. Rann was surely a handsome young man and accomplished if his participation within the Obsidian Knights was anything to go by, but they'd only met twice? Barely? Was this how things usually went? Had she been out of the social scene for so long, locked away by her job first and then her suit second that she'd forgotten about it? That didn't seem right.

No response came immediately or even latently to mind.

Quick, change the subject!

"I, uh, I'm parched. Like, stuck on Tatooine for a month parched. I think I would like my water now. Have you seen the Bartender?" cue uncomfortable giggle.

 

[Kiff Brayde]

S E D U C E D

Tag: Vaux Gred

They engaged in small talk. Normally Kiff wasn't much of a petty conversationalist, but anything that could keep this beautiful specimen talking he would do. She asked him her name, then followed it with several words in a language incomprehensible to the Minister of War. He didn't know what it was -- but he liked it.

He took a sip of his drink. Cooly. And as the liquid coursed down his throat, his enrapturement for this mysterious, alluring enchantress only grew. "The name's Kiff Brayde, and the title is Ministry of War. 'Course, that title could be changed to your Significant Other if, you know. . ." He raised his eyebrows, his mind too muddled and distracted by the pure crystal of dazzling beauty in front of him to think of an adequate finish to his line.
​

​

​

​

​

​

 

[Vaux Gred]

Tags: Kiff Brayde

Vaux kept a smirk on her face as the handsome being introduced himself. Kiff Brayde, a Minister of War. She looked at him a little, taking a sip of her drink before hearing the last part. As the drink went down, the idea didn't seem all that crazy. She just seemed to like him more. The pilot would finally chuckle a little, speaking up with a suave voice.

"Well, I'm Vaux Gred. CAG, though I do like your new title more. If we ever 'you know.'" She gave a mischievous grin before leaning a little closer, taking another sip of her drink, and again seeming even more attracted to this wonderful guy. The Mandalorian didn't really know or understand what was going on, but whatever it was she was enjoying it. She then looked around, smiling more.

"So, you don't happen to have plan or anything? If not, maybe we could not have plans toge...." Gosh that was cheesy sounding and she didn't care. Somehow the usually tough as nails, thin skinned pilot couldn't help it now.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

N O T A G A I N​

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Palm-Imer | Vytal Noctura | Rann Thress | Magdalena Lethe

“It is nice,” Gerwald said to Palm as they entered the bar. It had been some time since he attended an event like this somewhat willingly. He was the face of the Knights Obsidian now, so there was still a significant amount of his presence that was born of obligation. Having Palm there made that part of it tolerable.

The Nighmother on the other hand, she had to rub it in.

“I have been known to have fun… on occasion. Just because it was like pulling teeth for you to get me to dance around that bonfire on Roon, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to lighten up.”

Just the mention of the planet’s name caused Gerwald to look at Palm with a knowing look. It had been on that planet where they would have later met, faced a beast, and killed it. That was also when both had stubbornly tried to offer their lives for the other. For Gerwald it had been a matter of not wishing to see another he had come to care for die when he had the power to keep it from happening.

Palm had her own reasons, reasons she made Gerwald fully aware when she thought she was about to die. It had created no small amount of tension between them, and conflict within Gerwald as well. The worst of it had been the darkness Palm embraced. Her fear of it caused her to cut herself off from the force, and Gerwald carried the weight of that guilt. It had been her choice in the end, but it was another who was now suffering because they got close to him.

Yet, Gerwald was tired of feeling alone. Yes he had friends, those he could rely on, but all of them kept at a distance. It was time to start letting people back in.

When he offered the toast, it was also a way of forging ahead. He took a gulp of whiskey in one shot, shocked that Palm would go for an Ale. As the whiskey glass came down, Gerwald let out a sigh. His eyes opened and landed on the Nightmother…

“Wow… either this drink is really strong… or I just never realized how pretty you are…”

Gerwald leaned a little closer to the witch…

“Yup definitely pretty.”
​

 

[Palm-Imer]

Wearing: XxX.
Tagging: Gerwald Lechner ~ Vytal Noctura ~ Rann Thress ~ Magdalena Lethe ~ Vaux Gred ~ Darro Praji ~ Kiff Brayde

​

The Nightmother's comment seemed to amuse the geminaie at first. If asked, Palm would never describe Gerwald as someone cold or who did not know how to loosen up. Then again, truth was that the Force had decided to build a bond between them that left little room for walls or guardedness. The memory of their very first meeting was still fresh in her mind, and only thanks to it she could see how those words could have been the choice of the general public to depict the Lord Commander. There was no denying, however, that these gatherings were certainly not his preferred form of leisure.

Otherwise, perhaps neither the Nightmother's presence nor her own would have been required.

It was the lupine's response the one that seemed to strike a cord within the Ambassador. Roon was even fresher still in her memory. Her amber eyes met Gerwald's, understanding the silent meaning of his icy gaze. It had been since Roon that she had been forced to cut herself for the Force, and if only to not summon the emotions tied to that dawn the geminaie made the effort to push the night itself away from her thoughts and instead focus on the words being said. A smile curved her lips at the mental image of the lupine dancing around one of the bonfires at the behest of the Nightmother.

Roon would slide away from her attention fully as she finished her drink. Both because of her choice of drink and the fact she was not in any particular rush, it would take her just a moment longer to drink the contents of her glass than Gerwald took to finish his own. Long enough to hear the compliment aimed at the leader of the Solanaceae witches. Curiosity commanded and as the geminaie lowered her glass and opened her eyes, her bright golden gaze would too settle on Vytal Noctura...

Palm did not feel anything out of the ordinary besides the fact that she suddenly saw the Nightmother in a whole new light. It was as though there was something important that she had missed before and had now been revealed to her. The contrast of the dathomiri's pale skin against the dark red hue of of the robes she donned, its sashes accentuating her figure. Then there was her raven black hair and a stunning pair of green eyes that to her seemed even brighter than the shade her own adopted when channeling the Darkside of the Force. The Nightmother was an otherwordly creature in a sea of pink, purple, and human. She was beautiful.

Suddenly awe-struck and with a warm feeling beginning to grow deep within her chest, the geminaie also took a step closer to witch and therefore the lupine, unable to take her eyes off of the former. The words would fly out her mouth without a second thought, laced in a velvety tone that was full of certainty as she offered the Nightmother a mellifluous, confident smile. "Pretty is a terrible understatement..."

Bewitching, perhaps, would have been a more appropriate choice.

 

[Rann Thress]

Luurrrrrv​

WEARING:
TAG: Magdalena Lethe

Rann wished he was dead. This was so embarrassing. Part of him knew something was wrong, this wasn’t him, but the other part had given in so completely to this feeling of love that he could no longer control himself.

He buried his head in his hands and sat at the bar.
“Oh my...I’m I-.”

He parted his fingers and looked around for the Bartender. He still wanted to make her happy, get her a drink, but the Bartender was, at the very least, not directly in front of him. He closed his fingers over his eyes again.

“Didn’t see her” he said, muffled. He was surprised the heat from his cheeks didn’t melt the flesh from his organic left hand. He definitely felt like a furnace. And his heart kept beating. So. Loud. It was a wonder nobody could hear it. He put a hand on his chest to make sure it wasn’t beating out of it.

I am...not okay. Something is wrong. he thought to himself as he massaged his chest. He could feel the beat but it wasn’t about to burst free from his body. That was good. He guessed.

“I...” he wanted to say something. But what could he say? He just dropped...a hell of a bomb on her. There wasn’t much else to say. Apologize? He already did that. But he wasn’t even sure that he meant it. He...loved Magda. He wasn’t sorry about that, even if he didn’t understand what exactly was happening to him. But...

He just felt bad. Like he had alienated this woman he loved, that he had ruined their relationship.

“I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m sorry I...I don’t know what’s come over me.”

He squeezed his eyes shut behind his hand. Tears were quite possibly the last thing she needed to see right now.

Whats wrong with me?

​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Equipment: Rings X X X X
​

The Pale Witch smile faintly in the face of Gerwald's retort. It was no secret between them regarding his attitude in her presence. Just because one admitting a thing did not mean it suddenly went away. That is not to say she was fine with the stiffer demeanor, but then it wasn't all that different than most other sentients. She understood it, however. It was understandable given his history with witches that he'd been cautious. Unfortunately, a Nightsister not lording over outsiders was already a feat; and while Vytal tried to be outgoing and approachable, she hadn't been brought up by... well, Zeltrons.​

​

As for the look he shared with Palm, Vytal could see something meaningful there. Hadn't any idea yet what it could be. Obviously not something they wished to discuss either. People were welcome to their personal matters or their secrets so long as it didn't endanger others.​

​

After the toast, the Nightmother's green eyes dropped to her glass for a moment. Whether the result of a focus on understanding her own spiritual presence to defend against other spirits, or that in conjunction with the ring of self she wore, the Witch felt something was... peculiar. Well that and an unusual sense of warmth for seemingly no reason. Not the flush of drink either. It was too quick and strong for that. The sort she seemed to lack in exchange for tending her coven. Gerwald wasn't the only one that had to sacrifice for a larger whole.​

​

Speaking of Gerwald, he'd just complimented her. Pretty...? That wasn't-- Was he leaning closer? Then the woman -- Palm-Imer -- said pretty was an understatement. No thoughts ran through Vytal's head so much as simply a sense of confusion or befuddlement. One that certainly drew her eyes from the glass to look at the pair that were suddenly closer than they'd been a moment ago. What were they...?​

​

The angular slope to her brows began to relax once her green eyes found Gerwald and Palm-Imer standing before her. Their eyes looked at her expectantly. What... what did they expect, exactly? Vytal quietly cleared her throat. Couldn't let them think what they were doing was working on her. Honestly, expecting a Nightmother to fall for them just because they called her pretty.​

​

Her eyes shifted slightly away and then back again. No, she wouldn't look away either! They weren't going to unsettle her with flattery.​

​

"Gerwald I-- I wish there were a fire here. Watching the heat roll off your body." While the pale woman kept her posture straight there was a general softening to her stance, and a smile that graced her lips. A Nightsister should never lose their command. It's what impressed Nightbrothers. But that didn't mean a Nightsister couldn't feel, did it?​

​

Strangely -- though she didn't know why it was strange -- Vytal also turned her eyes to Palm. "And you, my dear, have the most captivating eyes." The Witch hadn't noticed the slight ovaloid-like appearance of the woman's pupil's before. And their warmth of the honey-brown irises was so inviting and comforting all at once.​

​

Tag: Gerwald Lechner | Palm-Imer​

Template By: Darth Metus (Guy)​

 

[Vanya Aklin]

Wearing: xxx
Tag: Abel Denko , Fauvel Astier

Her gaze had shifted from him to be cast across the dance floor and around the bar area, filling the moments between her move and his next. But not for a minute had she been unaware of where the two were or what they were doing. The presence of them in the Force as a beacon, and each moment was a ripple through threads that bound the galaxy together. And so when she had seen him stand from her peripheral vision, her eyes returned. His confidence was a wonderful thing, delicious and enticing; it might even have been intimidating is she were a different woman. But she was a Nightsister of Dathomir, not some timid little thing.

She basked in the knowledge that his confidence would be so easily broken, and that he would fall to his knees before her. Does 'the lady at the bar' dance? Vanya spared a glance across the room, to where is companion was still seated at the both, as though she was contemplating whether to accept. Obsidian eyes took in the blonde woman's seated form, silently judging her. The Nightsister was still undecided about how she felt toward the woman. There was a familiar darkness about her that left the tattooed woman intrigued. Who was she and what did she mean to this man; what lengths would she go to protect herself, to protect him. But she was not the focus of this hunt, not yet.

As attention was turned back the gentleman, a smile found her lips. Vanya gave no answer, not verbally. A step was taken past him and no effort was made to keep them from touching. He would feel the soft curves of her body through the fabric of their clothes as she lingered, just for a moment, enticing him, daring him to touch, before pressing forward. At the edge of the dance floor she paused to look at him from over a shoulder. And there she waited, a smoulder in her eyes, seductive, expectant.

 

[John Locke]

“I choose to believe we chose one another, a meeting of minds that lead the wallflower and the chaperone together. One of those coincidences that only really exist in the movies…apart from now. Cause I wasn’t bored on the flight and watching movies, no, I wouldn’t never procrastinate…by the way if you see a severe looking man in a suit then you never saw me ok?”

As he spoke the grin on John’s face spread, growing ever bigger as a mischievous light danced in the back of his eyes, growing brighter as he felt the years and the stresses slipping away. Back in the day, well the school hadn’t really been able to afford to put on too many special activities for the kids, being able to support sports matches was about all the budget would stretch to. But, once a year, the community would band together, businesses and individuals all donating what credits and time they could to clean up one of the local halls. It was a major event for the community, a chance to unite and do something more than just work and sleep. It was a chance for the kids who lived there to let their hair down and for one night be children and nothing more. In a life filled with pressure, where you weren’t sure what tomorrow would bring, it was a brief moment of happiness in an otherwise dark world.

For some reason, this party reminded John of that, that same feeling of people needing a chance to let their hair down. He could hear the sound of laughter, see the dancing and happy faces. He could almost see the children running down the hall, memories long past.

“I’ll have you know, I’m having plenty of fun shooting you down and being a smartass.”

A wink, a sip of his drink before he looked out at the crowd, considering his thoughts before he answered.

“I…mean…you kinda have nephews, a friend asked my to be the guardian to his ‘kid’, he’s off in the unknown regions trying to avenge his dad at the moment. But, mum and dad might have to wait for you to get biological grandkids of their own. Any prospect of that?”

Matthew Locke

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

Tags: Oleander Webb | Asaraa Vaashe
​

Things were weird, she felt weird. Not like drunk, or at least not the drunk that she thought being drunk was like, more that she couldn't think super clearly and was trapped with desire. The strong desire was to sing. It wasn't super odd, she wanted to sing in a few situations, she wanted to sing, to scream, to just let her emotions out. But she was terrified that no one would like her singing either so she was trapped between not wanting to sing publicly and a growing desire to sing in public right now. Sitting in a chair, Dreidi looked around the room, plenty of people were making googly-eyes at each other which was weird in itself but inspired Dreidi to sing something romantic, maybe something to help set the mood. However, she was just sat there biting her bottom lip, she just didn't feel it was the right place or that she should be singing. Dreidi sighed as she closed her eyes and tried to think on something other than singing.​

It was no good though. Millions of songs flooded her mind, all of them on the tip of her tongue as she felt her swaying slowly in her seat. Damn it. Damn, damn, damn it. Dreidi thought as found her body rising up and wandering to a stage area. Her heart was beating hard and fast, her palms were sweating and she couldn't believe that she was going to do something this ridiculous. Dreidi, stop! Just sit down! Hum to yourself! Why are you needing to sing for everyone to hear?! Biting her bottom lip hard, she stared at the band playing, then wandered over to them and suggested the song to play now. They looked at her a little confused that she was giving instructions, and recommending a song. However, it didn't matter to the young teenager as she grabbed the mic, it was a song that she heard years ago and it was currently stuck in her head. Especially since people expected her to want to write sweet love songs when she mentioned being in a band.​

The band started playing, Dreidi froze, staring at the number of faces around the room. Fear was creeping up, and this was exactly what Dreidi feared when she felt the need to sing in the first place. Now she was stuck here, having to find her voice as the band played the music. It wasn't till the chorus kicked in that her voice could be heard beyond a mumbled couple of words, by the chorus, her voice opened up and she closed her eyes to avoid seeing the faces. "I'm not gonna write you a love song 'cause you asked for it, 'cause you need one, you see." Her voice was a little more raspy compared to the original but she was singing, finally singing in public.​

 

[Matthew Locke]

​

TAG: John Locke​

Objective: Got your Six (BYOO)​

Spoiler: Objective

​

Looking at his brother he just raised a brow slightly, as he let out a chuckle and shook his head, putting his hand on his forehead as he gave a sigh. A soft smile crossing his lips as his eyes danced over the crowd, glancing over at John, he could see a lot of tension and stress unwinding. Seeing this was a skill he had learned in the business, he tended to need to be able to read someone in case of any ill intentions whilst he was attempting to snuff out his contract.​

​

"God I haven't had a stable girlfriend in many rotations, most of the time they are just flings at this rate, no one wants to settle down with a man like me. I may be charming and handsome but I am not stable. I have to travel the galaxy and risk my death at every corner, not good for a significant other."​

​

Matt's mind wandered to the different girls that he had dated over the years, having a few that lasted longer than a few nights. He never blamed any of them, it was a stressful job, and it didn't cause a lot of love with others. It hurt watching people he cared about slip away from him, before snipping the tie that had held them together. John had known how much that Matt cared about people, and could probably tell how much the jumping of relationships and numbed him.​

​

Letting his mind drift for a moment, he came back to the conversation at hand glancing at his brother, grabbing a drink from one of the workers that were wandering the streets, very professionally he might add. Taking a long sip from the up he gulped it down and gave a sigh.​

​

"Wouldn't be the first random guy I took out for wanting to snuff you out."​

​

This last line came out easily as if it had never crossed his mind. It implied that Matt had been killing people that would want to put a hit on his older brother, for some time now. Although he hadn't kept in touch, he always had his brothers back.​

​

 

[Fauvel Astier]

Wearing: XxX.
Tagging: Abel Denko ~ Vanya Aklin ~ Open.

​

A laugh came from the ghastly young witch at his response. Abel was perhaps the only person that did not mince words or watch his language around her, in truth he was also the only person with whom the highborn Illyrian allowed herself the same freedoms. It was no secret to anyone who knew her province, or who had heard of her, that any Illyrian would have downright refused to believe that the bloody, pale lady of Regne de Sang was even capable of laughter. Of course, they could have spent hours finding humor at the expense of the burdens they carried - but there were more pressing matters at hand.

Wingman?

Indeed, Fauvel had never heard that word before but the Jedi's gesture was more than enough for the Starweird to know what to do next and deduce what the meaning implied. "Bonne chance," She wished him luck in her native tongue, tilting the glass of wine towards him in a short, discreet toast. As her blazing red eyes settled on Abel a weird feeling stirred within her...before disappearing as quickly as it had come.

Her brow furrowed slightly, eyes falling to her drink for a moment. How very strange...

Who knew? Perhaps she would have noticed something was astray had it not been for the movement further down the bar as Abel finally reached the mysterious woman that, just like her, was shrouded in shadows. For someone who was so apprehensive of the darkness, and particularly of witches, as he was, her friend sure did seem to be drawn to them like a moth to a flame. Her church had heard and learned a lot of the nightsisters of Dathomir, and the Starweird would recognize the poise and presence of one anywhere.

Just as the woman walked past him and towards the dance floor, Fauvel would get comfortable in her seat, elbows resting on the bar and drink grasped between dark claws. Then she would seek him out through the Force, forming a bridge between the thoughts of the Nabooian noble and her own. The woman was putting on quite the show, clearly no stranger to the art of seduction. Fauvel was still wary, her own darkness seeming to reach towards the dathomirian's out of its own volition, examining. Yet that did not, for now, take away from the fun.

<<"I sure hope you have been practicing your dancing since the ball on Naboo...I don't believe the 'grace of a Gungan' would be enough to impress her.">> Her voice would resonate within his mind, that wide, impish smile still wide on her lips as she repeated the words he had chosen to describe himself upon their first meeting.

She took another sip of her wine, pheromones going undetected and being useless on a creature that had nothing but an attempt at a physical body.

 

[Oleander Webb]

TAG: Dreidi Xeraic | Asaraa Vaashe

The drink didn't burn like alcohol as it ran down his throat. Nor did it taste of anything he'd drank before. The liquid down his throat left a feeling both familiar and horribly unfamiliar at the same time, as well as an unnamed urge that struck him like an itch he didn't quite know how to scratch. His brow furrowed, lips opening and closing as if to say something but unsure of the words themselves. Yet when he did speak, it was loud and clear, not the usual low tones that came out of his throat.

"We have all been blind," his mouth shut almost as quickly as it opened, eyes widening as he processed the notes that had escaped him. Now that was new, unheard of, even. Sure, he'd listened to music plenty of times. He wasn't a stranger to humming along in the odd moment alone. But to full on sing? Out and about among others, too? That was new.

And it seemed he wasn't the only one fighting such an urge, judging from the expressions of some of those around him. He made eye contact with a few individuals, being quick to break said contact with those who seemed affected by the drink in much different ways. Whatever was in the drinks it was certainly potent, that much was sure. Oleander found himself at least taking small solace in knowing he wasn't compelled to jump on the stage as others had.

That didn't stop his mouth from continuing to produce sound as he looked about, however. "La-da da da da-da da-dA da - No!" he exclaimed just as he realized what he was doing. And yet, he was seemingly helpless against stopping the song from continuing. "No-no no no, no no nooooo."

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

Tag: Oleander Webb | Asaraa Vaashe
​

Her performance seemed to be going well, no one was jeering and calling her to leave the stage, but then most of the listeners were distracted by other interests. Dreidi was getting too caught up in the moment, feeling the song fill her from the inside and whatever was inside her drink just kept encouraging her to keep singing, to go big and try and really show off her skills as a singer. Gripping the microphone firmly in her hands, she couldn't help but let out her heart and soul into the song, the fear while still very there seemed to just be a voice in the far distance, barely audible to this desire, this need to sing and have everyone hear her.

"I'm not gunna write you to stay if all you have is leaving. I'mma need a better reason to write you a love song today, toodaaaaaay." Dreidi sang, eyes closed as she just felt the beat of the music move her, dancing a little as she enjoyed the beat. "And my heavy heart sinks deep down under youuu, and your twisted words, your help just hurts. You are not what I thought you were. Hello to high and dry." It was hard hitting the high notes while keeping up with the beat but Dreidi was able to manage it, even if it nearly took all the breath out of her, having to let a little gasp at the end. This was a lot tougher than she ever thought it could be. Singing alone, mistakes didn't matter too much, but out in public, she was terrified that she might miss a beat or struggle to keep the pace that was being set.

Shaking her head, she needed to focus, she could do this. She needed to do this! Opening her eyes again, she looked at the crowd as she prepared for the next part of the song.

 

[Tish Cowen]

TAG: Beric Layne | Open
WEARING: X

"Ugh, you're such a buzzkill!"

Raina dropped her hand in exasperation. The Dark Knight pressed her glass of Fizz against his chest and let go, whether he caught it or not. She then grabbed the first and best man that came past to go for a dance.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, very faintly, she could feel what Beric was referring to. But it was very faintly. Something was clouding her mind and she did not care what.

Unfortunately, the fool she was dancing with could not do two steps without crushing her toes. After the fifth time that he fell over his feet, Raina had enough. With a flick of her fingers, she sent him flying into the bar to the butchering of Fly me to Naboo.
"Honestly, get some lessons. Jeez!" she said, straightening her dress as some sober people rushed to the man's side.

She then held out her hand, summoning another drink while the barkeep stood wide eyed.
"Goodness. Just relax would you?" she said, taking a sip of her new drink. Somewhere through it all, the Witch was aware of the Lord of Vandor and some others that still had their wits about them. But it was easily buried beneath another sip of Fizz.

 

[Kiff Brayde]

D R I N K S

Tag: Vaux Gred

"Plan's together?" Kiff chuckled feeling a bit of his old scoundrel's swagger through the proverbial mist that was clouding his mind and vision.

He looked her up and down. That sounded like a very tempting offer. "I got a nice berth on my flagship that could probably fit two. . ."

Suddenly, like a small but persistent whine in the back of his head, he heard himself as if it were an out-of-body experience. What the feth was he doing?
​

​

​

​

​

​

 

[Magdalena Lethe]

Rann Thress

Oh god he was getting upset now. No. Nonono. Magda suddenly found herself overwhelmed with deja vu and it wasn't a good omen for the evening. These things never ended well. Emotional snowball rolling down the social suicide slope.

"Now just hold on," she put her hands up in a gesture she hoped would seem calming, but it probably didn't matter since he was an Obsidian Knight and so far as she knew they weren't equipped to see through their own fingers, "I'm not cross. I value honesty and-"

Oh, oh, the Bartender was heading back this way.

"-and. Miss, my water?"

"Didn't forget about ya, here you are," she set an open bottle of water on the bar before her.

Open. How odd. Who served open bottles of water? Magda took it hesitantly and fished a shiny tube device from a compartment of the gauntlet on her right forearm. She pulled it apart to reveal what amounted to a metallic, collapsible, hi-tech straw. It beeped as she synced it up with the control module of her suit, and set it to WATER and CONTAMINANT FILTRATION. Magda popped it into the opening of the bottle she waited while the straw conducted several tests of the water.

"What was I saying ... oh, right. I appreciate your candor, Rann. It's an admirable quality that means a lot to me. You know it's so hard to-"

BZZRT. Said the straw.

"That's strange, there's a contaminant in the water."