Faction Day of Landing || Ascendancy

[Finnea Virlee]

The commander only kept serving her surprises as he made it clear that he wasn't referring to the celebration of the Day of Landing next year, but rather them sharing a drink on a different occation. Finnea blinked, not sure what the protocol would say was the right answer to this, forcing her to give him an answer that was all based on what she wanted. "Oh.. I see." The ensign cleared her voice and gave it a slight not to start with. "That'd be nice, I think." quickly letting her attention follow an oddly dressed woman that seemed off balance making her merry way across the room towards another table where her acquaintances sat, happily welcoming her.

While the conversation carried on, she couldn't help but feel some sort of relief as she now slightly cracked the door open to reveal some of her inner thoughts and feelings. It was definitively the Ipellrilla that made her guard drop, but she still felt like she had most of the controll over what would come out of her mouth.

"Hm.. Maybe like the average soldier going to battle, only I without the briefing up front and without the right gear." the engineer tilted her head with some amusement over the situation. Now that the conversation between them carried so well and she actually felt at ease, an intrusive urge presented itself. "I think I need to show you something?" she paused once more as started to look under the table to check if it was the right kind, the mechanical kind. And it was. She laid her hand flat on the surface, inhaled and as her hand slowly turned into a fist, the table lowered before rising again when she laid her hand flat once more. She did this while watching his expression closely until she broke the bond to the table only to get herself just one more shot, not really wanting to discuss her ability to use mechu-deru here, but at least she had got it off her chest.

"Let's not not let the limit of time become bothersome." she fell back to relax against the couch. "Have you ever grown restless? I mean, you have eternity, don't you?"

Yeshua

 

[Yeshua]

That'd be nice, I think.

Compared to partaking in another crowd-filled festival next year, the prospect of simply sharing a drink would be nice. At least to one with a strong aversion to the noise. Finnea punctuated the conversation with turning her head, watching as one of the patrons went by. Yeshua took this opportunity to get a touch more comfortable in his seat. Specifically, crossing one boot over the other and rolling his shoulders.

The Ensign then shared her thoughts - why she did not enjoy the crowd came out. Yeshua quipped in response, lightening the air between them. Quick as ever, Finnea's response was amusing all the same. The average soldier without a briefing or the proper gear, indeed. "Ah yes. Walking into the tundra with desert camo and a canteen. My the gods have mercy on your soul." His words were uttered amidst a chuckle, until the Ensign offered to show him something.

Intrigued, Yeshua leaned forward and watched as the Force fell upon them. She manipulated the table itself. It rose and fell, as if responding to the hand she laid upon it. The Vampyre's eyebrows shot up, whilst his lips curved into a toothy grin. "I see!" he began. "Your control is growing, this is excellent. If we weren't already drinking, I'd say it was cause for celebration."

As he spoke, she settled back in upon the coaching and posed a question. It was only fair that she got to peel back the curtain a touch, after he had just done so. Thus, Yeshua nodded. "When I was much younger, restless didn't even begin to cover it. This was a literal lifetime ago...but I was out of control. Lost. Driven by instinct and emotion. I had no direction in my life, nothing of note or meaning."

"Then, life introduced me to someone who was all about control. All about purpose. I picked up some patience from that man and came to appreciate the gift of eternal life. Now, I have something to stand for, people to give a damn about, and a direction. Haven't felt restless in a long time."

Finnea Virlee​

 

[Finnea Virlee]

Relieved by the reaction, the Ensign smiled as well. She was, after all, proud to have achieved this level of control after all this time. She had some help learning how to dip into the force and recognize it to gain control and now she was well on her way to truly use it in a way she had never thought possible - controlling the mechanics. "Maybe we'll celebrate it when I finally feel more confident about it." Finnea shrugged lightly in return.

Now sitting back, listening to his answer to her question, she realised that she was learning something new about the Commander. That he had indeed been a restless sould many years ago. As he went on explaining, Finnea dipped her head a little. "Perhaps that is how it must be, youth's don't have roots that stick very deep, restlessly trying to find a purpose in life." she smiled at Yeshua. Once more she paused for a minute. "I am confident where I am, and in control. I feel safe, which is an absurd thing to say when we so often face battle, big or small."

"And yet, I cannot be doing just this all my life?" She slowly rised her shoulders and let them sink again. "Or maybe I can, I don't have eternity." she shook her head quickly with a brief laughter following. "Having you as the commander has been the highlight of my life, I'd hate the idea of having your replaced with someone else." she shrugged but now felt uneasy for having shared her mind. Finnea turned to rather face the table, playing with her glass for a moment. When she couldn't come up with something clever to cover up the phrase, she decided that an quick break was nessecary. "Excuse me, I'll be right back." she moved to the end of the couch, ready to get up to have some air.

Yeshua

 

[Zlova Rue]

Farming methods? Great. Zlova had a tip for the Ascendency's farmers: people made excellent fertilizer. The Lethan would be overjoyed to demonstrate this fact to them personally. Time, after all, had not dulled her temperament. One could take a Sith Lord out of the Empire, but that did nothing to take the Sith Lord out of the woman.

Fortunate for everyone involved that the Cathar had brought his scrolls for examination.

The Twi'lek's eyes slid over the stalls and displays brought out for the day's festivities. Talohn's mention of Monari along the way drew a quick glance before she resumed surveilling the area. "She's still alive, isn't she?" As the young woman wasn't Force Sensitive -- which spared Zlova and Talohn needing to have a 'chat' about her upbringing -- Zlova couldn't take the gloves off in their sessions. Even so, would it be unheard of for a Sith to 'slip'? A curl of the lips followed a few seconds later after she'd let the Cat contemplate the meaning.

Her eyes narrowed slightly in mild annoyance as Talohn teased her with kebabs. As though she were easily distracted or her favor bought! "If you insist on listening to me complain how they're not as good as yours." Not that Zlova was trying to decline the idea. Just didn't want the man to start thinking he knew how to bait her. Besides, there was nothing shameful about enjoying food. Unless you enjoyed it too much and became a Fat Twi'lek. She might not have a sense of racial pride, but there seemed something about Fat Twi'lek that seemed to indirectly cast judgment on herself.

"Could be worse. The children could be running up to you and pawing you like an oversized toy." Zlova cast a look over at Madlad. "These people do love their droids." Always had been a shock every house didn't have a droid servant or some nonsense. Actually that had been a touch sensible by the Confederates-now-Ascendents. Having servants was nice, but you could stand to do some things yourself. Droids enabled too many people to surrender all responsibility in her opinion. In fact, it was a bit of a contention on her part concerning any armed forces with a large contingent of the metal-things. Madlad was unique. Thank the Damned.

Zlova had turned to stride over to where the food was prepared in order to grab some. As she waited, her eyes turned back to the crowd again. She recalled a time she might have humored their festive spirit with a dance. Not that many seemed to remember or care. No quips about a dancing Knight? Or a dancing Lord, not that almost any of them had known it. Well that was some time ago. Talohn's company was more enjoyable than displaying her grace before a public audience.

"I'll have to find the best place for 'adult beverages' before we get back to the ship. Make sure we don't return too sober." A little payment for Talohn's dedication. The man could be downright too task-driven; Zlova liked to make sure he stayed limber and didn't become too fixated. A little alcohol could help with that. It kept her from plying other techniques others wouldn't appreciate in public.

Talohn Atar

 

[Yeshua]

Maybe we'll celebrate when I feel more confident about it.

Perhaps that would be the next occasion - sharing a glass over her growth in her abilities. Growth in her control. To this, and her shrug, the Vampyre simply raised his glass as if to toast to her. "I look forward to when that day comes!" His voice was as joyful as ever, as was the smile plastered upon his face.

When she asked of him a piece of his past, Yeshua answered truthfully. As she mulled over his thoughts, he helped himself to another shot. This time, a light tinge of crimson graced his cheeks as the alcohol was beginning to catch up to him. "It is the nature of being young." he agreed. "Being restless is not inherently a bad thing. It allows us to determine good places to lay down roots."

For a moment, their smiles matched.

When she shrugged, doubting whether or not she could be doing what she was all her life, the Vampyre spoke freely. "You are a brilliant and beautiful young woman, with an officer's position in a regional power. That's nothing to sniff at." he began. "Do you think there's something missing?"

His question paled in comparison to the kindness she shared a moment thereafter. She couldn't imagine being under someone else's command? Or wouldn't want to? "That...means quite a lot Finnea. And I, for one, couldn't imagine commanding without you at my side. Seems we're peas in a pod."

With thus said, the First Mate needed to step away - perhaps to the little engineer's room. Yeshua simply nodded and watched as she left. Though they were in the nation's capital, a party was a party. Even here, he'd have her back.

Finnea Virlee​

 

[Artemis Verd]

PALACE TOUR
​

There were days where Artemis wondered just where she could be - anywhere but Verun. Her legs tucked beneath her as she sat with knees on the plush carpet and her hands extended, palms upward facing the direction in which the sun rose. She meditated there, high above the crowd, and did not dwell on the past, or on the what-ifs. Rather, Artemis focused on the present and what her place within the Ascendancy would be. Landing Day was a day of celebration and more often, reflection - and out here there were scarcely those who followed the path of Jedi or Sith. Such dogmas remained the problem of the core world.​

​

Out here little of that mattered, if at all. Artemis worked to clear her mind and focused instead on the Force and the Regnum winds that sailed across the land. Dust and sand kicked up in its wake but above it, all Artemis felt none but the whispers of the Force itself. She could feel the presence of those in the Courtyard, Srina Talon and Kuben Woods for starters... Darth Elyria along with her own grandfather Darth Metus and all the others who ambled about the palace. She closed her eyes briefly and then opened them reminding herself that the choice to remain had been hers.​

​

Slowly she rose to her feet and sidestepped the plush carpet. In a singular movement she pulled it up toward herself, Artemis rolled the carpet up and headed inside the palace to deposit it in her chambers. From there she figured it might be a good idea to mingle with everyone who was out in the Courtyard. Artemis decided that as much as she'd rather be in her trousers and blaster vest - that today required something with a little more finesse. The young woman dressed in a beautiful red gown, and grabbed a light gold chiffon shawl to cover her shoulders.​

​

A little while later she had emerged from the palace and stepped out onto the courtyard itself. She supposed the first person she should see was her grandfather and his beau Elyria. ​

​

 

[Srina Talon]

V E R U N
| R E G N U M |

Tag: Darth Empyrean
Objective: BYOO {Seated in the Courtyard - At the edge of a large wishing fountain.}
Style: X & X
_________________________________________________________​

As he felt for her connection to Darth Metus ; She felt the same, in regards to his subservience to the Worm Emperor. He was a despicable mote of antiquity that didn't deserve the praise nor right that others granted him. What had he done, for the Sith? What had he done but slither in the shadows and whisper in the ears of others? He took advantage of those with ambition. Srina was not the most well-versed in dissecting others on an emotional level—But she did recognize manipulation.

She could see when someone was twisting desire. Turning it inside out. Making it something new, pointed, and vicious until they had the exact weapon they were looking for.

"…Can he not do it himself?"

The words left her before lips before she could stop them. They were pained. Full of a dark, strained, agony that did not belong among the flags, flowers, and parades. Her eyes closed and she withdrew from the hologram. Let go of the hand, made of hard light. She thought. She compartmentalized. She buried it all—She did not feel. Were she to try…?

It would all come in. All of it.

She couldn't have that.

Her head tilted toward the sky and for a brief moment, a flicker of what she had gone through in his absence existed on the surface of her skin. Just a flicker. Then, it was gone. Hidden. The figment of light was not the man she wanted it to be. It was a lie. He was traveling through hyperspace near Terminus of all places. At the behest of his Emperor. Running, his errands. "When will he cease treating you like his whipping boy?"

Many of those who had come to celebrate would look at the young woman talking to thin air and likely assume she had a hidden comm. Or—That she'd lost her mind. It wasn't a display for an Exarch let alone a Primarch. These days, however, she found herself maintaining the perfect shell less and less. These people would never know what sacrifice was. They would never know. Because they were all too happy to let others do it for them. Safe and sound in their cookie-cutter little houses.

Silver eyes began to shed their light and golden threads crept through them. Not for the first time she wondered about the true power of the Worm. Of what it would take, to free Darth Empyrean from an ever-pervading sickness that he seemed incapable of seeing for what it was. It ground her nerve endings raw that she could only play nice in his presence. Out of respect for the one who had picked her up from a place of emptiness, brokenness, and put her back together—She had held her tongue.

Until now.

"I am going to find your Worm. He will let you go...Or I will kill it."

That was a promise. The Ascendancy was at relative peace. Settled. The people had John Locke and Kyyrk . Surely, a sabbatical was permitted. Surely, her Master would not begrudge her for removing a dangerous obstacle. The yoke of constantly being pulled one way or the other was too tight. The cost was too high. The burden was too much to bear.

She was tired of paying. Tired, of watching Maliphant pay.

Tired of watching the world stream by in color, bright, and beautiful. She could sense a variety of others that had come. Did they know as she knew? Did they see as she saw? They saw color...Where she only saw endless shades of gray. The Worm was just one more thing. Just one, more.

It was quickly growing to be the straw to break the banthas back.

 

[Darth Elyria]

Tag: Darth Metus | Kuben Woods
Attire​

The night queen glowered almost professionally and kept her arms crossed until the Dominus reached around her waist to pull her closer. He was the one that had asked for this. That she exhume herself from the Vault and remain among the mortals at his side. He knew the cost of her affections—Her loyalty. Elyria had kept up her end of the bargain. She tried, but, the moody little White Rabbit he likened to a child still got under her skin. Isley the Ruler—Isley the King, bent for no one.

He bent, for her.

Elyria scowled but let herself be pulled in. Her hand came to rest on his chest to steady herself and gradually her sour expression melted into something a little more amicable. The comment about her perfume caused a baleful smirk to touch crimson lips. "You know I don't wear any.", the comment was one she had repeated many times over. When the scent of jasmine and rain overwhelmed him, it wasn't some feeble fragrance that came from a spray bottle. It was her power, sweeping, like an endless wave.

One didn't need to be force sensitive to know it. It was there, evident, and unavoidable. The Magnaguard were present out of formality. That and for some strange reason the White Rabbit liked them. They were window dressing. Merely, a prop to set the stage.

Not protective detail.

Slowly, she settled. Elyria did note the sentiment that Isley offered. She had learned that much, at least, to recognize that he was trying to soothe her wounded pride. At least, before the show began. He still hadn't lost that particular aspect of his personality. Ever, the showman. Democracy be damned. She let him go so he could stand upon his pulpit and address the masses. Arms spread wide, welcoming them, as she had could only barely do. He moved them in ways she could not.

Elyria focused on two things. Military applications, and the Lost Children of Verun. Many had been left orphans in their escape from the falling Confederacy. Many more were left without parents due to raids, warlords, and any number of difficulties. She had a compulsion to take care of younglings that she could not fathom. It was a weakness, but it was the one thing that translated easily through the ages.

Children were the future. They needed, above all, to be protected.

A man stood on the sidelines that she did not recognize. At least, not physically. Onyx eyes followed the being that walked with the stride of a confident man. A solider, a warrior. The Domina stepped closer to her partner and let her hand run down Isley's spine to get his attention. As the whelp stepped closer a dark laugh emanated from her throat and from behind Darth Metus she gave a smile that was much too wide. With too many teeth, sharp, and grinning. In the blink of an eye, it was gone.

"Now…He smells good."

Only the Sith Lord before her would hear her whisper. Only he would know, that she wasn't referring to his cologne. She devoured the dark, cruel, and unnatural. A pure soul held the flavor of air. Empty. There was no weight to it. A soul that had been tainted? It called to her like a delicacy and she wanted little more than to cross the distance between them and devour his heart raw.

Not for anything he had done, mind you. No.

Simply because he smelled like food and Elyria was starving.

The command suggestion that she had been given not to eat anyone lingered in the back of her mind and a low growl thrummed from her chest. Barely there. Just enough, so that Isley knew that she remembered her duties. The people of Verun would flourish with stability. They needn't fully grasp that their greatest defenses were monstrous, terrifying creatures, to behold. Not yet.

Ruling through fear was, perhaps, an option. But unnecessary. Earning their faith would forgive a multitude of sins and Elyria wrapped herself around Isley for a moment before reaching out to offer her hand to the tasty soldier Kuben Woods . The action was disturbingly svelte, almost, as if she were made of something liquid. "Draconis has not availed me with his presence in quite some time. Should I be offended? Does he not like my cooking?", her shoulders rolled as she came to her full height. The weight of her presence was breathtaking. While most Sith had a decade, a century, to master their craft…The Lady of Discord had millennia. "It is a pleasure to meet you, however…"

She smiled, again. A flicker. Too many teeth. Eyes too wide—Too dark. Filled with stars, a void, that sucked in her victims with the threat of eternity.

"Damian Frost."

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk | John Locke
Wearing: LBD

Kyyrk's sass fell on deaf ears.

She raised an eyebrow while he addressed her by her surname and one hand fell to her hip in a silent exchange. He knew better, though, the corner of her mouth twitched with a slight smile. "Because you do.", she shot back without missing a beat. The kiss to her forehead mollified the mock irritation and she leaned into him when his arm wrapped around her. Her hand rose to rest on his cloth-covered chest and she slowly let her focus drift back toward Primarch Locke.

There was a sense of security in the light banter that settled her. While his eyes had sharpened over the past seven years, truly, the Minister of Commerce had softened. She had learned to anticipate things that once upon a time she would never have noticed. The way to treat her lover when he got that far away look. The one that made her worry, wonder, if he might just walk off the edge of the world if she wasn't holding his hand. Her head found his shoulder.

Reflex.

This was normal. Being close, affectionate, and open with it was normal.

"You could set foot on solid ground more often. If you wanted.", Alessandra returned, though, her focus was a little distracted by the arm wrapped around her waist. Her head lifted from Kyyrk's shoulder at the mention of taxes and her smile turned positively wicked. Suddenly, it would be as if Primarch Locke was something to eat. "Speaking of taxes..."

"I'll have your updated commercial code sent to your offices by the end of the week. Don't be late in getting the paperwork back in, you know, considering how hard it is for you to make landfall these days."

She squinted a little when Locke admitted that she was right about something, only, to balk a little bit at the commentary. Alessandra drew closer to Kyyrk and the words that followed were likely lost to the memories that swept him away. "He's mine. Get your own.", the retort was witty, though, touched with a less biting snark than before. The mention of refugees was a sure-fire way to dampen any sort of inter-departmental rivalry. No matter how invisible, it truly was.

"They love her on Verun, though. A Jedi that doesn't hide or condemn darksiders or any shade of in-between. Heals anyone. No matter who they are or why. Never asks for anything. I heard she wanted to go back to Naboo full time but... She still comes back here."

There were a great many things that Gianna Aegis had done for the community. Alessandra could still remember her rather nervous face while she asked for a small allotment to show the locals how to farm, properly, in this climate and gain more yield. She was the strangest paradox to Locke…But it was the way of it, wasn't it? Opposites attract.

Alessandra scowled, a little, at the notion of losing Kyyrk to Locke and Key. "I already told you, John. Get your own.", the comment was patterned with a familiar pout and a slight tug on the lapel of Kyyrk's overcoat. She already didn't get to see him as much as she wanted to. It would be a cold day in the nether before she lost him full time to Locke and Key. Kyyrk hated desk work.

The speech from Darth Metus began and the rest of her grumbling would have to wait. The crowd settled and the parade stopped, briefly, to hear a speech that very much so reminded her of the old days. The crowd was different, though. The people were hardened through tribulations here, however, they seemed to have a spark of something people had all but lost in larger nations.

She didn't know what it was. Individuality?

Ironically, she wondered if it was just a sense of hope.

 

[Finnea Virlee]

Here was two pressing matters. One was the loaded question if she felt that there was something missing, to which reply wouldn't easy to give nor easy to avoid. The second matter was the way he told her that he couldn't imagine commanding without her at his side. Utter nonsense, surely she was as expandable as anyone else at her rank. She frowned slightly, revealing her doubt only for a second. Perhaps he was just offering kind words and nothing more than that, it was nice to hear after all.

It was a relief to step away when she did, sidestepping and weaving through the crowd to find a small stair which she followed upstairs to a rooftop where the fresh air felt devine. Distant music and chatter. She wasn't alone up here but with no roof it definitively felt lighter. She stood here, leaning against the ledge while her now slightly intoxicated mind worked over the last question. Was there something missing? Finnea really didn't want to admit to such a thing because she had more than she could ask for - like he said, she was a young woman with an officer's position at a regional power. Other engineers onboard their ship and others sometimes requested her guidance. She had grown so much ever since she took on the position as Ensign.

The minutes went by and she knew she shouldn't let the commander sit alone down there since she felt that the whole reason he was even in here was because of her skittish behaviour. Hell, he was probably swarmed already by all kinds of different people curious about him which sort of felt worse somehow. She pushed herself from the ledge and moved back inside to return to his side, slightly less graceful than before she left as the alcohold they had consumed clearly was having an effect on the engineer. She grabbed onto the table to catch herself and a little laugh of surprise escaped her as she did so.

Yeshua

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk frowned at John Locke 's offense towards calling Locke and Key workhorse. "Never underestimate the value of dependability, my friend." Kyyrk glanced around the courtyard again, only half listening as Ale and John sparred verbally over his allegiances. "Now now, share, you two." He chuckled quietly turning his attention back to John. "I only ever darken the door of a workshop on behalf of the Medjai. You know this. My days as a Master Artisan are behind me, I think." Kyyrk looked past Locke, flagging down an attendant to collect a drink from a passing tray, and a second which was offered to Alessandra Creed .

He turned to glance at Darth Metus as his speech began, taking a sip from his drink. He felt a slight twinge of guilt whenever Alessandra became possessive over him. How he was always spending days and weeks at a time away from Verun. It was important work, of course. And the duty of a Primarch. But it didn't make him miss the charming woman any less. Particularly with rumblings that Srina Talon was due to depart the Ascendancy for an unknown length of time. Even if people did not realize that was the focus of their discussion. Kyyrk knew the wintered woman well enough to know. Her beloved was out there in the galaxy somewhere. And he knew first hand how fiercely protective she could be of such things.

She'd earned a vacation. Over and again. The least he could do was shoulder the mantle of Sword of the Ascendancy for a time, so that she could take the time to rebuild her life. She had the option. That option had been taken from him. He gently squeezed the woman in his arms as Metus spoke of living in honor of the fallen, raising his glass in a toast to his words. He took a sip, and turned his attention back to his immediate company. "Seven years down, and many more to go. May there be many before I go gray." His chuckle accented the silvery hair that stood in defiance of his wish. He raised his glass to the middle of his compatriots. "To life, the Ascendancy, and to one day giving the Unmaker hell for what he's done." ​

 

[Artemis Verd]

"Here, here," cheered Artemis with the crowd who raised their glasses and gave applause to her grandfather. As the crowd's cheers began to simmer she closed the distance between herself, her grandfather, and his beau Elyria. "A great speech on such a momentous occasion," a compliment as she extended her hand. "You both deserve to have an amazing day today." Respectfully, the Nabooian was amazed at the progress and how easily it seemed the locals and those who continued to arrive at Verun assembled under her grandfather's banner. "You look amazing Elyria, as always."​

​

She wanted to speak with her grandfather about her progress in the region of Kaleb and the provincial capital of Axum. The establishment of a second Medjai Temple was also something on the table. Subjects to speak about later she supposed, "I have to say, that when I turned my ship around - halfway to Enclave space. I didn't think I'd be here to witness this, the growing and gathering of a community." Ever the Nabooian her forward yet diplomatic tone unwavered. ​

​

"A tribute undoubtedly to your charisma, grandfather." Artemis turned her attention to Elyria, "and thank you for your... words of wisdom regarding my abilities. Although, I am still uncertain as to what will come of them." The child of Naboo had always been leary of using the Force, afraid even of what she was capable of. In the waning days of the Confederacy, she did her best to hide her Sith heritage. Out here, however; that was a different story altogether - so far removed from the problems of the coreward worlds and their dogmas. Artemis was able to explore her abilities in a relatively safe and quiet environment.​

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Darth Elyria | Darth Metus ​

 

[John Locke]

​

Wearing: No points for guessing...a suit​

_________________________________________________

Regnum City, Verun​

Tagging: Kyyrk | Alessandra Creed
_________________________________________________

A small smile quirked up the corner of John's lips as he inclined his head towards Alessandra, a small twinkle dancing through his gaze for a moment.

"And here I thought I'd be safe from worrying about taxes at a party, I guess they are inevitable. Since you have my personal comm, send the code straight to me. When it comes to the important things someone taught me the importance of cutting through the red tape."

The dark-haired cyborg raised his tumbler for a moment in a salute to the woman, before taking a sip of the whiskey as his eyes flicked over the crowd. Faces he recognised and those that were new to him appeared like a flash before vanishing back into the crowd like ghosts. He could see Isley in the distance holding court as the crowd surged around the Dominus watching his every move, his every gesture. It was a level of scrutiny that John was happy to be without, preferring the vague anonymity of the shadows than the bright regard of the crowd. Outside of the circles of power few knew who the technocrat was, he could walk on the streets of Verun to by a snack at a roadside vendor without anyone thinking he was anything other than an office worker. There was a freedom in that, a freedom her revelled in where he could get it. Cut of from the rest of the galaxy as it was the Expanse was almost like a haven.

"I suppose we could all do with spending a little more time groundside. Don't worry, I have no plans to retire anytime soon. There's too much to do, and too little time to do it all in. Maybe one day, I hope so anyway."

So many in the galaxy sought wealth and power, the ability to change the world at their whim. John had too once, but since reaching the pinnacle of power, achieving that he had found himself dreaming of something different. He'd started down this path to try to help the people around him, and now, he had all the power in the world but his moves and actions caused widespread ripples. Affecting whole planets instead of just streets, communities. The dream was there but just…set aside for the moment.

"Gianna…will go where people need her. Regardless of her wishes or her own desires it's the needs of others that will always come first. I've met all kinds of Jedi through the years but she really is one of a kind. I'm glad the people of Verun know how lucky they are."

Dark-eyes dropped for a moment to stare at the surface of the amber liquid in the crystal tumbler in his hands. Lost in his own thoughts for a moment he lifted his gaze as Voph spoke, lifting his own glass to the man's.

"To our friends and family, those that drive us on through the hard times and the good."

​

​

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Tag: Kyyrk | John Locke
Wearing: LBD

"Do you want to share, Kyyrk?"

There was a right answer and a wrong answer to the question she posed. Though she asked it sweetly enough there was something in her tone that should have set off warning bells in either of the Primarch's heads. It was innate, vital, to self-preservation. She accepted the drink that was offered, though, he still wasn't off the hook by any means. Suit or not—Being cute wouldn't always save him.

Chocolate orbs returned to the proprietor of Locke and Key while he responded to her jab about tax reform. A light smirk danced across crimson lips before she took a small sip of the bubbling liquid. "That someone sounds like a very smart person. I think you should listen to them more often, particularly, in regards to market trends.", her words were plain, but they both knew what situation he alluded to. It was quite possible that it might go over Kyyrk's head, but, there were very few who hadn't heard that the Minister of Commerce had once threatened to freeze the former Exarch's assets.

Most—Simply didn't realize why.

John continued to speak of his pet Jedi and the auburn-haired minister found herself nodding along. She didn't harbor any ill will toward Gianna Aegis. She was merely collateral damage when Mr. Locke decided to wake up that morning and choose violence. Specifically, with her department. "You should get to know Verun, you know. The people here aren't distant and faceless…"

If anything—It would serve all of them to do so.

Alessandra did not know that Srina Talon was planning on taking a sabbatical. The fact that it would place more demands on Kyyrk's time was not something she would be pleased with. The Creed woman believed in duty. She exemplified it. But, she also believed in having her own life outside of the drama, danger, and politics. There was more to living than just getting by. There had to be.

She wanted to have dinner with the man she loved that wasn't cold.

Was that too much to ask for?

The men at her side said it all, when it came to toasts, and she raised her glass with a simple murmur of "To Verun" before letting her arm fall back down. She remained pleasantly wrapped into Kyyrk's side—Selfishly, choosing to do so. He likely had hands to shake. Asses and babies to kiss, but, Darth Metus would spare Kyyrk for a little while. If she asked. He had always been accepting, of that.

"To life, the Ascendancy, and to one day giving the Unmaker hell for what he's done."


​

The statement rang in the halls of her mind in a way she didn't like. She couldn't put her finger on it. Not yet—But the reason was there, in the back of her mind, translucent and fragile like a soap bubble. She shivered despite the warmth of the day, unbidden, and tried to shake it off. Her extra senses could be unpredictable. She had watched Kyyrk change. She accepted, what he needed to do.

She just hoped that the cost of vengeance was one he was willing to pay.

A cost she could bear.

 

[Darth Metus]

Wearing: Armor of Darth Metus​

REGNUM - TOUR

As the hush arrived, the Sith realized just how loud it was.

The sacrifices made by one led to the growth of the other. For the people of the Ascendancy, toiling hard at their various trades made it possible for Regnum to be the beacon of the present. The blood of their comrades made it possible for their children to see peace at last. Such sacrifice was not a stranger even to the royal household. For the primordial Domina sacrificed security and strength to stand beside the Dominus. The Vault that she called home was a place of refuge. Strength. In fact, his mere voyages within its abyss left even him forever changed. Stronger.

So strong that he could hear without thinking. Hear what was uttered even when the physical tongue fell quiet. In the beginning, Darth Metus was acclamated to this reality by the bond he shared with his apprentice: Srina Talon . Betwixt them ran a perpetual river of thought and emotion. Nothing was hidden, even if they wished it to be. From this transparent foundation was a kinship born that frustrated Darth Elyria even to the present. She saw their bond as a source of weakness: the impossibility of wind making a mountain bow. Yet the Sith saw it as nothing more than loving a daughter without condition.

And though he personally knew better, one might have assumed the ire held by Her Majesty was envy. But this couldn't be the furthest thing from the truth. For one, Darth Elyria simply desired her mate to be without weakness. Without compromise. For another, Darth Metus cared for her in a way that was hers alone. He showed it in their quiet moments within the Vault. But also in the moments of the present. Such as when his arm drew her closer, not giving a damn that their entire Court was within viewing distance. Sweet nothings danced from his tongue: a compliment regarding the sweetness which emanated from her. She corrected him, saying that she didn't wear any perfume. But the desired result was reached: a smirk which graced her lips.

So it was that his bond did not prepare him for the fruits of his relationship with the Domina. For, typically, he had to think about blocking out the noise - the unspoken cacophony emanating from the minds of others. And in the moments where his attention lapsed, say giving a speech to his people, the chaos would begin. He could hear them. All of them. Within the courtyard and beyond. The emotions. The words unspoken. For but a moment, the Sith blinked hard, willing his focus back into being - and making a mental note not to let that happen again. But before each metaphorical brick went back into place, he witnessed the "disagreement" between two halves of a whole. His gaze traced the individual's advance as he drew closer.

And ultimately, he bowed before his liege.

The Sith's eyebrow raised slightly, before his gaze shifted. A hand - Her hand - raced down his spine for but a moment. And when he looked upon her, he saw her wicked smile. A reflection of the abyss. When last she gave that look, it was after she had devoured the pizza boy and asked for seconds. "Yes, yes, I'll ask his cologne later." he said, whispering so that only she could hear. Then the warrior introduced himself. Kuben Woods , a candidate sent by Draconis Wolf himself. As the man spoke, a genuine smile broke out across the Dominus' face. The Domina greeted him first, addressing the absence of his superior officer. And though Darth Metus knew that the front demanded his presence, Darth Elyria still made comment.

Still made quite the introduction.

There may have been a moment when the Sith would have "saved" the soldier from such an introduction. But he felt dismay from his alabaster child. Distress. Anger. Annoyance. All crashing down as a tidal wave. He could not help but lend an ear in that moment. When it came to her love life, Darth Metus did his absolute best to stay far on the other side of the metaphorical house. She was grown, after all, and could manage the affairs of her heart herself. Yet, as the outpouring reached him, he heard the intent of his heart. The desire born of justified ire. He had to restrain himself from saying anything through their bond, for it was not her place. Ah, and how conflicted Darth Metus was. Part of him wanted to remind the Primarch that her place, peace be damned, was here. Yet, part of him respected her desire. He voiced nothing in either direction and simply reminded her that she was not alone. She'd feel the slightest nudge of his presence. No matter what she did or chose, he'd have her back.

Now, the Dominus' sulfuric gaze fell to the soldier. "Well met Damian Frost." His words were brief, for his mate would surely discern his mettle in but a moment. And it was such a fortuitous decision on his part, for soon popped forth the presence of Artemis Verd, his granddaughter. The Sith stepped forward and graced both her cheeks with a light peck in greeting. "You look radiant my child." he began, before listening.

And like the proud grandfather he was, he hung onto every word. "I can see you inherited my silver tongue. Flattery will get you a very abundant Life Day."[/color] Darth Metus chuckled at his own joke. "I am proud of what we have accomplished here, and I am glad that you are able to see it. Know that wherever I am, you have a home. A haven to learn and grow as you see fit."

Srina Talon | Kuben Woods | Darth Elyria | Artemis Verd​

 

[Yeshua]

The frown did not go unnoticed.

Despite the haze of alcohol steadily coursing through the Vampyre's system, he did notice the Ensign's frown at his words. Perhaps she doubted their sincerity? No matter. Yeshua knew enough not to say anything about this now, as his tongue might slip and say the wrong thing. Drunk men knew no decorum, or something like that. From thence, their ways parted for a few moments as Finnea excused herself. Yeshua kept tabs on her general direction as best he could, but lost the slight bob of her white hair as she rounded a corner.

"Water, please." he said to one of the attendants passing by. If anything occurred, he needed to be of right mind. Then, Yeshua blinked as the frigid glass was placed before him. He drained the beverage in but a few choice chugs before handing it back to the attendant. The Commander was...surprised? The concern he felt was on par with the average gentleman he imagined. After all, parties brought out the worst in people sometimes. But, to immediately want to sober up a touch because she went out of sight?

What was he, her warden? Bah. Yeshua leaned back in his seat and heaved a sigh towards the ceiling.

In due time, Finnea returned, clutching the table to steady herself and laughing a touch as she did. This caused the Commander to chuckle aloud as well. "Have fun?" he inquired. If all she did was change her oil, that might have been a weird question. But, perhaps she'd find it as amusing as he clearly did.

Finnea Virlee​

 

[Kuben Woods]

Location: Verun Palatial Grounds
Tag: Darth Elyria , Srina Talon , John Locke , Kyyrk , Talohn Atar , Zlova Rue , Alessandra Creed
Objective: Finally be introduced to Darth Metus

Damian had been focused on his Dominus when he'd made his introductions, but his attention had been stolen sharply by the Domina's own introduction to him. He felt the hairs on his neck stand up as she spoke, and something about her rubbed him, wrong. He couldn't place why, it was almost like he was back next to Shaper. His own shadow smiled back, the voice in his head starting to chuckle as Damian sat there internally confused. Between the Dominus's and her smile, Damian subconsciously let a small grin touch the edge of his lips. If only just. What he didn't know was that it wasn't from them, but rather from his worse half staring at what could very possibly be his entertainment for the night.

She's not of this realm fool, and that she sits so well is an achievement.

What do you mean?

I'm a being of the Nether child, you think I don't recognize something like me? What I don't understand is why she lets herself act like she's house trained.

House trained, you mean civil?

You really think that she just wants to sit there and look pretty? Tell you what, first lesson is on the house. That feeling you just got, wasn't me. It's her. That she hasn't eaten anyone here yet is mildly amusing, and begs the question of whether she's doing it of her own volition or not.

You're saying she's like Shaper?

Child she's in the same weight class, but physically different. You really need to get yourself an education on this.

Images flashed across his mind of things he could only describe as beings mostly consisting of the force itself, devouring souls and bodies of unfortunate passersby. Of monsters that defied description in their scales of power and malice. Things that made people like him seem like insignificant specs of particulate in the vastness of space. When Draconis had briefed him on meeting the Dominus, he'd failed to mention his wife. Now that he thought about it that was probably deliberate. Every instinct in his brain told him to either run to a better position, or to fight here and now. Because he was staring down the gaping maw of something that looked akin to death. Damian collected himself, taking a small breath externally, as he finally responded to her.

"Milady, I must admit that I am ignorant of the quality of your cooking. But having had field rations, I can almost guarantee that it is better in all categories. Draconis would be here if his presence on the front wasn't absolutely required, and promises to celebrate the occasion in his usual manner. I cannot dictate that you should take no offense to his absence, but I can plead the case on his behalf,"

He then would do something that went against every instinct in his body. He took his eyes off Darth Elyria as he bowed once more respectfully to his lady. Internally alarm bells were ringing because it viewed her as a very distinct and present threat. The voice in his head smiled as it watched the encounter, not needing Damian's eyes to keep a close watch on her. And while he didn't like putting himself in such an easy and open position, especially if she decided to try and kill him right there, he would be respectful. His duty demanded service and respect to his leaders, regardless of what they were.

"The pleasure is mine milady. To have made the acquaintance of my lord's wife is an honor and a gift. I am but a humble servant of the state, a tool for the Dominus and yourself. I only serve at both of your leisure,"

 

[Finnea Virlee]

Now steadying herself once more, the engineer who rarely showed anything but a stone face and a cold exterior in her ridiculous goal of always appearing professional was now chuckling over her own clumsiness and it didn't help her at all that he was chuckling too. She covered her lips with one hand in an attempt at trying to stop smiling while still holding onto the table for dare life. At his question she quickly shook her head, denying any claims of having 'fun' but the game was up. The hand that had hidden her smile dropped and the engineer studied the commander from across the table.

"Yes, maybe a little fun." she tried at first and picked up one of the glasses to cool down her warm cheeks. "But not really, I can feel the ipellrilla having an undesired effect and yet I am ashamed to say that I might like it a tiny bit." she bit her lip and came closer to him, throwing a glance back into the crowd of festive people. It seemed there was only coming in more and more people too. They all seemed so relaxed and happy. The music and sound of people talking loudly wasn't as uncomfortable as before so maybe the alcohol did it's job of removing some anxiety.

"It's a street party, isn't it? A shame to sit inside then, might miss out on something." she smiled and tugged at his sleeve for a second. "One more drink at the bar and then we can head back outside, be a part of the celebration and night? But just this once." a 180 degree turn around from when they first stepped off the ladder and the focus on the set time also seemed to have been forgotten for the time being. Finnea backed away from the corner they had ,to once more weave between people, finding her way to the bar where she got up on her toes to have a better look while she waited for Yeshua to follow her.

Yeshua

 

[Abel Denko]

ASTEROID - REGNUM

Speak for yourself.

They shared a hearty laugh over the admission. That this - trying to do something that normal people did? It put them so far out of their comfort zone that it wasn't even funny. Together, they could drive a starship through an asteroid field and not break a sweat. But put a literal title on getting some bevs? Immediate wreck. Luna, at least for her part, seemed to keep up the bravado, if only for a moment. "Look out, we've got an expert over here." he shot back beaming.

But even this moment of jest was enough to shake some of the nerves. It drew them closer to what Abel considered to be their "normal." Luna had put it best in the very next breath, they were out of their element now, but they'd figure it out eventually. But, as she said this, the gears began to turn in the Knight's head. If their normal wasn't normal, then why should this?

You caught me. she said, prying the Knight from his own head. He had just implied that Nar Shaddaa was the superior shithole - and he'd stand by that hill until the banthas came home. And since their last trek down this particular "fight", he had come up with three more compelling arguments as to why he was right and why her hometown was hot garbage. Of course, logic and reason flew out the window when her fingers brushed atop his own hand. "You tryin' to seduce me?" he said, motioning his chin towards their hands. "Because it's working."

Another smile. But in short order, the arrival of their drinks caused them to return to their respective corners. Luna took a sip of her beverage, Abel took his straight to the head. The glass settled down upon the table with a solid thud, whilst he shook his head. The burn was a lot - but more importantly, he was trying to get into his zone again. Luna, however, was otherwise deistracted. Her gaze was settled upon the dance floor, where a pair of Rodians offended the very word dance. "I have this sinking suspicion that you prefer tabletops over an actual dancefloor." He motioned for the nearest barkeep to bring him another drink before returning his attention.

Of course, now his eyes found the bottom of Luna's glass as she sipped along. He waited, gingerly tapping the tabletop with his fingertips - matching the beat idly - until she spoke. And when she did, his stomach was assaulted by more butterflies...and that "logic" from earlier. "I'm glad as well." he began. "And I think...we're putting too much pressure on ourselves. You and I? Normal hasn't ever been our thing...so let's not treat this 'normal'."

He paused - realizing how that could be taken ten thousand different ways.

"What I mean is, like, let's get on the same page about what we want but otherwise just...be us. You know?" Ah, but that was one hell of a loaded question. Just what did they want. Out of this? Out of each other?​

Luna Evanstance​

 

[Yeshua]

The engineer was a bundle of smiles.

For one who was professional ninety-nine percent of the time, seeing Finnea beaming and chuckling was infectious. Even if Yeshua wanted to, he couldn't help but maintain the smirk plastered upon his features. Upon returning to the table, she did her best to hide her smile behind her hand, but failed miserably. "Well, if you're having fun, I'd say mission accomplished." After all, the entire point of taking some time away from the Jericho was to enjoy the Day of Landing. It seemed that she might finally be doing just that.

It only took a few shots. And hey, she was enjoying the buzz. "A fine choice." he agreed. "Very few liquors can hit me like this one did, I'll have to keep it in mind." His mini-bar aboard the Jericho was about to find itself home to a few new bottles if he remembered. As he spoke, she looked into the crowd before offering him a smile. What she said next was a far cry from her attitude upon leaving the shuttle.

It only took a few shots. Duly noted. Pregaming might very well be mandatory for shore leave. "I take it this is an extension then?" he said, unable to help himself from laughing as she tugged his sleeve. The motion made him keenly aware of just how warm his face was getting. Clearly Ipellrilla was a solid beverage, and nothing else. Nope. "Sounds like a solid plan to me, lead on."

In short order, Yeshua rose from the table and navigated the crowd after her, ultimately keeping pace as they neared the bar. There was only one seat that he could see, so he leaned upon the bar and motioned for her to sit. He then motioned towards the bartender. "What're you drinking?" he asked, curious if she had any additional tastes for the evening.

Finnea Virlee​