Don't Stop Believin', Hold onto that Feelin'

[Corey's OOC]

After stepping out from the bar, Marek checked to see who else had arrived. There was one woman he needed to go see, but first it was time to venture around. Seeing a few people tucking into the sabacc game, he wanted to not disturb them, but there was the... tougher woman from the Butterfly. Still, she was looking good. The casino owner decided to send her a drink, compliments of the house. One way to get a woman's attention. Who knew if it worked with [member="Tmoxin Temi"].

Next step, was welcoming everyone. Making his way to the observation deck on the main gambling floor, Marek took a few deep breaths before speaking.

“Welcome to the Soul of Corellia. I want to thank you all for coming. With the situation that has happened to the beloved world, we at Bright Star Entertainment, and all of our partner companies want to thank you for your patronage over the years, and for making this event a success. Remember, all net profits will be going directly into the funds to assist Corellian refugees, and for finding us a way to settle and find a new world to call home, whether that be a reborn Corellia, or a completely new world. So, welcome to the Fundraiser for Corellia, eat, drink, and most of all, have fun!” And y'know donate.

Donate please.

He made his way to the main hangars aboard the vessel. He wanted to greet [member="Danger Arceneau"] and walk her into the gathering himself, just a show of solidarity or that he and Danger went way back, and showing that from the Core to the Rim, the galaxy was standing together.

 

[Artemis Vahl'Nyx]

It wasn't hard to place get under him. Really, it wasn't, what with the way his legs were shoulder-length apart, and the way he kept his knees bent. One hard slap to the ear had disorientated him. Then she had gone for the gap, grabbing onto his limbs, lifting his legs with ease. Only a moment passed before his head ended up on the ground. Hard. His feet ended up on either side of head, with the back of his knees pressed to her shoulders. The man was completely at her mercy. And so she threw him back quickly, letting the rest of his body crash down. Within a few seconds she had followed him, her elbow slamming into his back, before putting him in a headlock. This wasn't exactly a shock-boxing match anymore. Their gloves had been discarded a few minutes earlier. No one seemed to mind. After all they just wanted to see the man punch her again.

They were currently being disappointed. After all, he was tapping out...

"And the winner is.... the newcomer, NYXIUS THE STONEHEARTED!" She liked her 'ring name'. It fit.
She only hoped no one wanted to break the stone...
With that in mind she exited the small arena, content with her match. Though she knew she was scheduled to get back in the ring in another thirty minutes. That was going to be fun... she was still sore from the last four rounds.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

​

​

Bright Star Entertainment
The Soul of Corellia
Addicted

The lights are on, ​

but you're not home.​

Your will... ​

is not your own.​

​

That odd flutter of nerves would continue as Danger would descend the ramp. The great luxury decor and vast spaciousness of the Soul of Corellia would greet her with plenty of warmth, jovial atmosphere, and the light murmur of conversation and music.

One would never guess that the 'verse had opened the gates of the Nine Hells and ripped it asunder. A slight tension would prompt a subtle twitch at the corner of her eye. No, the game was on. It was always a game. A role to play.

This would be no different.

Beside her, Aeri would press a coral hand to her ear. An earwig in place would relay a stream of information. She gave a small nod, well aware of her mistress's desires -- even if Danger did not speak them aloud.

Her kind didn't miss the subtle nuances of emotions. And as such, Aeri would ensure that a measure of calm would slowly creep upon the Trade Queen for what she was about to say.

"The CEO of Titan Industries just arrived." came the low hush, an octave below a whisper. "With his escort."

Danger never thanked Inari the Reviver as much as she did then for Aeri's calming presence.

Awareness came to her then and ghost of an idea coalesced. Her fingers gave the subtlest of trembles she hid under the quiet smoothing of her black gloves, putting on her best Sabacc face.

Life is like a Sabacc game. Some players fold while holding a winning hand, some win holding nothing but a pair of coins. It isn't the hand you're dealt in life -- it’s the hands that hold the cards.

Danger Arceneau was very good with her hands. And she had gotten that from her mother.

Ensuring that she would not wilt from the toils and troubles pressing in her in mind and body, Danger would paste a soft cordial smile upon her lips. A sweep of skirts with that familiar sway would bring the head of Arceneau Trade at the entrance of Aurek Hanger.

Aeri would murmur Brightstars CEO's approach with an incline of her head, the Zeltron assistant keeping her constantly aware of her surroundings and the 'Who's Who' of the Soul of Corellia's patrons. It was then, through the weaving of revelers, Danger would catch a familiar swagger.

[member="Marek Starchaser"].

Patrician features were seemingly softened by a mischievous smile, jade green eyes sparkling as if she were receiving an old friend or a welcomed acquaintance.

"Mistah Starchaser... I dare say your mug is a sight for sore eyes," she said in a warm drawl, offering her hand. If anything she said or did, these words were a certain truth. That he had survived Corellia and was here in the flesh was relief.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Bright Star Entertainment

Spoiler

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0J3vgcE5i2o[/media]

It seemed as though times were indeed changing. Alric was making a public appearance with her, as she'd come to terms with some moments prior, and now he was making crude jokes that more than made her blush. The kiss to her forehead told her that he was at least pretending to be elated, but it was such a stark difference from his serious-yet-seductive attitude he'd always had. Whenever they'd be in the company of others, whether together or simply together, he quickly conformed to a wall of solitude, driving everyone out of his head with a level tone - she herself was not immune to such behaviors at times, he'd waved her off more than once, even if he hadn't realized it. It made him a likable man to her, and a confrontation to others. But as he escorted her down the exit ramp of the shuttle to the charity event they were to attend as a couple she realized that she hardly knew much about her fiance at all. Her stomach turned as she put on a showy smile, reaching with her right hand blindly for his left, wishing nothing more than to hold firmly onto his hand like a security blanket. Did he have friends? Who were they? She'd known him to be secretive, almost reclusive, as Alric Kuhn, but on Rendili he had called in as a different persona that seemed completely comfortable speaking with strangers - though he did shoot her a glare at the time. 'Of course he does.' Came her thoughts frothing to the surface, and she wished she could truly see - for she tilted her head up to the taller man with a pleasant smile and missed the way she used to be able to read him through his expression. Perhaps it was that - she could not understand him quite as well without his body language on display, she wasn't sure if he was uncomfortable or not and it plagued her. Maybe.

But if he had acquaintances or friends and rivals in business that would be attending with them, it would mean she would have to meet them. She was certainly no stranger to speaking with others of considerable political clout, but the thought of doing such in a non-threatening or non-coercive was unnerving. She had been a woman of mind games, a manipulator of sorts, who had often made secret meetings with the leaders of various rivals or potential allies of the One Sith and created an outcome suitable to her own ends and that of the Sith, but they often took the form of threats, offers of power, and things that hardly mattered to the rich and elite. The sound of music, laughter, and the clattering of delicate wine glasses and heels alike shook her to the core and the surreal reality of it all morphed together into one large contusion on her psyche. It was so strange - truly. Ever since their engagement both Alric and Silara had been acting quite unlike what others believed to be the norm for them, whether it was truly so or merely their private lives bubbling to the surface was yet to be seen, but Silara certainly was not used to being so nervous, and the fact that she could not see the look on the faces of everyone around her bothered her to no end. In the end, however, she knew she had Alric and they did not. For a moment she entertained the idea of making a scene out of their arrival - not for the attention, rather to calm him down - but she settled for a gentle squeeze of the man's larger palm. "Remember you're not working today, so enjoy the night out. Relax a little, unwind." Silara said with a smile. His wanton grope some minutes before wasn't forgotten, but she'd let it slide for now, she didn't want to give everyone the impression that she was simply another harlot hanging off his arm by making a promiscuous scene.

[member="Alric Kuhn"]

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Alric held her hand as they walked into the gala. It felt so small within his own, so tiny, so fragile. More so with the loss of her sight. He could not have explained it to her if she had asked, but since his proposal, since her answer, he had felt more for her than ever before. Perhaps it was the realization of his love, perhaps it was the fact that she was now to be truly his, or perhaps it was because she was the one thing in his life that provided a measure of stability and constant.

Alric truly didn't know, but as she spoke to him of relaxation, of actually enjoying the night, he thought that perhaps just once he would give in. [member="Silara"] whether she knew it or not had gained a measure of control over him. Her whims were as commands, and although Alric often found himself taking the lead in their little dance, he often found himself wanting to simply spoil her with everything she could ever want.

He looked down at her when she spoke, returning the squeeze of her hand.

Some of the tension drained out of him. His muscles relaxed and his walk seemed to shift to more of a relaxed swagger. The two of them walked into the main room hand in hand, Alric with light dark circles beneath his eyes and stress lines on his face. Silara the most beautiful woman in the room, at least to him.

The party was already going full swing. Many people were gambling, fighting, or just making idle conversation. Alric skimmed the room, looking for no one in particular but observing everything that he could. He saw [member="Marek Starchaser"], a man whose reputation he knew but had never personally met. With him Alric saw [member="Danger Arceneau"] and for a moment his stomach churned.

The idea of Silara meeting Danger made him slightly nervous. Between them the two women knew more about Alric than he knew about himself, if they became friends it would very likely be the end of him.

Before he could set out further into the gala to perhaps get Silara a drink, a man approached them. He was a portly fellow, a small trimmed beard lining his face, his black hair cut short and dirt brown eyes shifting onto the Titan and his future wife. The man walked with an odd gait and almost yelled when he spoke.

“Mr. Kuhn! So nice to see you again!”

Alric leaned in to Silara slightly. “This is Darell Brost. He used to own a large construction company on Talus. Titan recently bought it.”

His voice sounded somewhat sluggish, slow, but he was determined that Silara would meet no one on the backfoot tonight. She would know anyone and everyone who she would speak to.

“Mr. Brost. How nice to see you again.” From the way Alric sounded it was not at all nice to see the man again. “May I introduce my future wife, Silara Vantai.”

That would mark the beginning of more than a small amount of such meetings. Corporate heads, planetary leaders, and more than half a dozen random people came up to Alric and Silara within only ten minutes of their arrival. Each time Alric placated them with a nice greeting, then introduced Silara as his fiance. Each time he said her name it was with a point of pride. After every meeting he would squeeze her hand, touch her back, some small sign of affection to show her everything was going well.

More than once however he found himself leaning on her, tired and worn muscles being slowly pulled to their limit even as he tried to enjoy himself.

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

"Well that's all you can do frankly," replied Tmoxin when Grant Pherson said he had come to the event in memorial. She took a small sip of her drink, knowing it was strong.

"House wins," said the dealer.

She folded her cards as well and signaled for two more cards. Just then a serving droid came by with another drink, a Noonian Fixer by the looks of it. The droid indicated it was "on the house."

"I guess the house wants to see me quite drunk tonight," she said, laughing at Mr. Pherson.

After another terrible hand of the card game, she folded again and rose, taking the Noonian Fixer. She tipped the dealer generously and said to the human at the table.

"I suppose I'll come back when my luck is better. Enjoy your evening, Mr. Pherson."

Tmoxin began to make her way around the Soul of Corellia to mingle with the other guests.

[member="Grant Pherson"] [member="Marek Starchaser"]

 

[Jsc]

At a girl.

He couldn't help but smirk when she accepted the free drink and left to mingle. That was the spirit. He needed more of that for himself these days. A little more adventure never hurt anybody.

"Deal me out."

"Of course sir."

"Thanks. Here's for you."

He tossed the dealer a tip and took his leave. He was down about six. It was under his limit but still? It was way to early in the night to be down six thousand credits. He'd hit the bar for another drink, something exotic this time, and then maybe try his luck at the dice. If he could bring himself back by about half or more, he'd call it a night. Grant didn't mind losing money. He'd come out eight hundred in the green last time around. Ah. But then again? Back then he'd been a Jedi. You could run a casino all night with those old tricks. Space magic. Ha. Who knew?

"Ah. Of course. Maybe we'll go see what class acts they got going on. Can't hurt to be a spectator. Maybe some Jazz too. Mm."

He nodded to himself and hit the bar. Browsing the selection for something that screamed, I'm feeling adventurous but not crazy. Luckily for him. It was a Corellian menu. Everything screamed adventurous.

"Mmm. Provo Girl. ...Yep. Might have to try it."

Nice.

 

[Corey's OOC]

He was minding all the patrons. A lot of people here were putting aside their differences for the good of the homeworld, or of the world that was destroyed. That was saying something about the galaxy. Sure, he was sending a drink out, but that was just Marek doing his thing. His real interest (besides getting the girl's frequency) was to see Danger. His mentor in the business world in so many ways. And the fact that she was fine during this whole disaster? That was weighing on his mind.

Stepping closer, he smiled and gave [member="Danger Arceneau"] a wink. A sight for sore eyes for sure.

“I'd been spending time away from the homeworld, other places have needed help more.”

Taking her hand, he used his opposite hand to offer her the first step. “Into the party, then?”

Party was such a terrible word for this. But it was what he was trying to do.Granted no one was shufflin'.

 

[Jonathon Patches]

[member="Danger Arceneau"] [member="Marek Starchaser"]


Forty credits? he mused to himself, lowering himself to eye level of what had to be the most expensive glass of eighteen year old Corellian Whiskey he had ever laid eyes on. Then again, given recent events and the reason he was here, he wasn't all that surprised. Fine Corellian whiskey, much like everything else Corellian, was becoming endangered. No worries, he reassured himself. He had made certain to ensure that his drink of choice would never run out in his life time.

He still didn't quite believe it, in truth. Though born there a life time ago, Patches had let go of Corellia long ago. He didn't have much good to say about it. He was born there, but he never considered it home once he left. Still, the news of what had happened had shook him. At first it was a feeling of relief, and a sense of good riddance. However, as time passed, that sense of relief was replaced with a void; no doubt that left by those that had perished.

He took the drink, giving the bartender a look of scepticism as Patches flipped him a credit chip - to which the bartender only shrugged, and gleefully took the credts - and took a look out onto the ships deck, and the horizon beyond it. The waters seemed somehow familiar, though he couldn't recall ever setting foot on Talus before. He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt, loosening the tie a bit.

Though he had no problems dressing up, something about a charity event for Corellians put him a bit at unease. They were a proud, independent people. They would sooner fall flat on their face than accept the credits of others. History would remember them as independents, borderline isolationist. Though he hardly considered himself Corellian anymore, he still bore that same stubborn independence that came with being Corellian; it left a mark on most. Yet here is where people gathered, and unfortunately, for the first time in the history, Corellia and it's people were not in a position to refuse; and that, more than anything else, is what had him at unease.

He raised the glass to his lips, and felled it in one motion, the familiar drink burning a trail down his pallet and throat. His eyes closed for a moment, savouring the flavour and a long forgotten past, before his eyes opened, and reality set in.

Turning back to the bar, Patches looked at the bartender, and ordered, "Another one... make this one a double, Mack" he said, turning his back to the bar, and his eyes surveying the crowd.

Diplomats, celebrities, pretenders and socialites. This sort of event no doubt would draw out the worst kind of crowd. He was about to give up all hope, until chills went down his back, and the temperature of the room went up at least three centigrade. As if on cue, the band changed the song they were playing - or at least, in Patches head they did - as the figure of one Miss Danger Arceneau entered his vision.

"Better make that two drinks, Mack," Patches said out of the left side of his mouth.

"It's Norman," replied the barkeep curtly, placing both drinks down on the bar.

"Yeah yeah," said Patches, as he flipped 'Norman' a few credit chips, and grabbed the drinks and empty drink tray which just happen to be oh so conveniently within reach, maneuvering the crowd as good as any server had in the history of man kind; or at least, in Patches mind he was.

He approached Miss Arceneau and her escort, the drink tray resting perfectly on his outstretched right hand, and said, "For you, Miss Arceneau, and you, Mr. Starchaser," he said, nodding to the drinks on the tray. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the other man was Marek Starchaser; Patches wouldn't be very good at his job, now would he, if he didn't?

"From the gentleman at the bar," said Patches, nodding to the exact bar he had came from, which was now unoccupied.

"Oh dear me... it appears Mr. McCoy has been otherwise detained... but he assures me that he looks forward to having words with you later, Miss Arceneau," said Patches, then nodded to Marek, and added, "Mr. Starchaser," then took his now empty tray, and just as quickly disappeared into the crowd from whence he came.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Bright Star Entertainment
The Soul of Corellia
Fever
[member="Jonathon Patches"]

Ohh you'd like to think​

you're immune to this stuff, oh yeah~​

​

Danger would rest her gloved hand upon [member="Marek Starchaser"] 's extended hand, the tips of her fingers lightly resting upon his palm. A seemingly smile of beguile would drift over her crimson mouth, that black skirt swishing lightly behind her like a dark train as she would descend to greet him.

"A girl will always be into a party, Mistah Starchaser, especially a BrightStar gala," she'd drawl off in a seemingly honeyed coo. Yet there was a somberness in her eyes that would detail otherwise. "One would wish that this time it be for a far different occasion."

And there it was. The contradiction to the festivities that were taking place. This was a gala to celebrate the death of a world... in order to raise the aurodium to somehow fix even a portion of it.

Aeri in the background would give a small incline of greeting to the owner and CEO of Brightstar. Her fingers were still pressed to her ear, listening in to the streaming updates. She wouldn't be a good assistant if she didn't keep up to date. And what she heard next was enough to prompt a knowing glance at her boss.

Darell Brost, while born and bred a Corellian, was also a horrible gossip. Or more to say the least, had a big mouth. Aeri's lips would thin, her eyes growing listless. This was not the type of news that would hold well with Miz Arceneau. At first, the Zeltron assistant was sure that perhaps there must have been an error.

Yet as the information and verification came streaming in -- one had to make sure that everything was double checked -- the more the Companion was well aware of the truth of the matter.

That was no mere escort arm candy clinging on Henrich Stien -- but his Fiancee.

Of course, by that time... well, another had come right up to the Miz's.

Danger's eyes would give a subtle widening at the sudden arrival of a server. Two lowball's full of three fingers worth of the best Whyren's Reserve. Certainly wasn't pulling any punches on the quality of the spirit, mused Danger at Starchaser, taking the offered drink in hand.

She did, after all, need that drink.

"Thank you --" that's when the name fell into the shell of her ear. Mr. McCoy. Ahh.. pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Of course. He would be here.

As quick as the server came to bring them their drinks he would drift away, fading into the crowd. But his mission had been accomplished. He had delivered more than just the drink. He had told her in not so many words that He was here. Jonathan Patches. Mr. McCoy. The man of many masks. She shouldn't be surprised, with as many important dignitaries and the like, he would be here.

The corner of her mouth would perk up in genuine amusement. "Well I'll have to thank Mr. McCoy --" her voice, however, would catch as a shift of her attention would draw to the right, drawing her hand from Marek's.

And clash right across the din at [member="Alric Kuhn"] and his escort.

"Go se," << Damnit. >> Aeri would curse in Zeltronese. She couldn't help but tense. In turn, sensing her mistresses emotional shift, took a step beside her and began blasting those soothing calming empathic ability.

Yet there wasn't enough empathic ability to erase the sight that beheld her. It was all in the body language you see. In the stance of a man that would incline to another, more specifically to a woman. It was in the minute details. The cant of a head, the direction of the eyes, the placement of their hands.

Being the overseer of the Oiran Guildhouse and having studied and become intimately acquainted to just what truth a body may say is what made Danger so good at her trade. Truth be told, what made it all the more clearer was that there body was known to her as intimately as her own.

It spoke boldly and publicly, casting no doubts. A point of pride. Of affection. It was there in the squeeze her hand with his, the touch of his hand on her back, the smallest signs of affection he gave her.

Words her momma done spoke to her 'fore she passed came to mind then. A prickling reminder.

'A woman can do everything a man wants, or thinks he wants -- but still not be what he desires.'

The terms were clear. What manner of void a woman could fill and provide did not come with a guarantee.

It was a hard and bitter reality Danger knew all too well.

"Times have been hard since since you left," she'd say to Marek Starchaser, as though the thought had just come to her. An idle bit of talk as she well knew that it had been some time since the man stepped upon Corellia proper.

"Harder still." that glass came to her lips and she felled it in one motion. That burn would be a fiery reminder to herself. Gotta keep it together, Danger girl. This wasn't her first bantha rodeo.

Least she kept telling herself that.

Her head turned back to Marek, holding his eyes just long enough to spark dead wood. Hope would rise in the room, or perhaps it was testosterone. For most men, they're one and the same.

"Reckon we all gotta make our rounds to make this Gamorrean bank pay out," she said, the words slipping off of her tongue like turpentine. It was as much as a reminder that they all had to do their best to get as much as they could from the party. She would move on and ensure things would go well, not only by her presence but by donating a hefty amount of credits to the cause. Either way, Danger found herself with a dire need to refill her whiskey glass.

And perhaps bump into a Mr. McCoy.

 

[Ellie Mors]

Her smile was false, as ever - she rarely gave such displays of happiness or humor, or anything of the like, to the general public, it was an instinct, a protective mechanism born out of being trained and re-raised as a Sith - and though her eyes remained closed for the moment it was more than possible for her to open them, although she was told by her aide that doing so would be entirely unnerving, a unique aesthetic issue with her silvery Vahla eyes, pale skin, and unblinking blind eyes. So while Alric greeted the various older men, and younger alike, she couldn't help but feel their piercing stares on her face and various other points of her body, perhaps not so much an effect of the force directly but she considered it such regardless. Mister Brost was, however, a bit different. Perhaps he understood that mentally undressing a woman hanging off the arm of Alric Kuhn, Heinrich Stein, or whatever name they fancied to call him, was both unwise and more dangerous than it was rewarding. And though her smile was still not genuine she was more than willing to greet the man with a surprisingly well coordinated handshake, her focus on retaining some image of vulnerability distracted by her soon-to-be husband leaning a bit on her.

Alric's leaning and slouching became quite the habit throughout the night, she could tell right away that he hadn't had enough sleep the night before, let alone the week before. It was mildly frustrating, in the most odd of ways, as if though she was upset that he wasn't getting his sleep rather than with him personally. Of course this all became a bit less important the further they drew to the more important circles of the business world that occupied the bulk of the center of the crowd. Where she'd felt the eyes of men, and some women, on her shoulders, arms, and lower back like hands, the stare from an uncertain direction tugged on her waist like a look of disappointment. Although she couldn't exactly locate the source, or even judge the feeling, the feeling was there and it suddenly made her feel cold, singled out. "Perhaps you'd like to sit down?" Silara asked, leaning her head against Alric's shoulder while tilting it back to look up at him. She could tell he was tired, and she needed something to distract her from that icey freezing in her gut.

[member="Alric Kuhn"]

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Danger Arceneau"] [member="Silara"]

Alric nodded to Silara.

He was tired. His body was beginning to show signs of it in ways that he couldn't even think of. It didn't really register with him at first, not the feeling of sluggishness that came over him, not the feeling of numbness that gradually set into him. It was odd, but he did not even notice as he leaned more and more on Silara.

Slowly the two of them made it over to one of the larger tables, though all the seats were taken. His eyes cast down, one arm looped by Silara at the crook of his elbow. Alric smiled down at her, though he couldn't help but notice the slight shaking that ran through his palms. His head swiveled and be began to feel dizzy.

Thump.

He heard his heart ring in his ear, like a drum pounding against his skull. Alric shook his head for a moment, one hand reaching over so that he could lean on the side of the table, taking his weight off of Silara. His other arm looped around Silara, pulling her close to him so that he could gently kiss her temple and whisper into her ear. “Thank you for being here. I know this isn't your idea of fun.”

His words were slow, sluggish, and his forehead touched hers as he closed his eyes for only a moment.

Thump.

 

[Corey's OOC]

This was going to be one of those nights, apparently. But he did have the most attractive woman in the galaxy on his arm. Maybe the most in two galaxies. Not that Marek knew the Yuuzhan Vong galaxy was a serious thing right now, but did you see the scarheads? Maybe he was a little xenophobic, so what.He was Corellian, even if like the man who was going to hand a drink over, he had left it many years ago, for better or worse.

Corellians were meant to spread their wings and fly, so to speak. Just know where your journey began.

Thinking of all he lost, he was thinking that he might move full time back into the Vagrant Wind, his YTA-1300. Probably a smart idea. Ride or die, something like that. But Corellian to the core. He should pull that ship off of Bright Star One, and have Sasha stash his Santhe Challenger. Maybe see if she could do anything to spice up his freighter.

“Hopefully our next party will be better.” He smirked. “You should really see us when the nine to fives have their days off. Those can get a bit crazy.”

Turning back to @Danger Arcneau, he could tell something was wrong. Marek was at least that observant with others. He couldn't place the who, though. And he couldn't place the exact extent of Danger's anguish. Not that it bothered him greatly, but, y'know, a little.

And drinks! Of course, the best option.

Marek smiled, giving a glance to the empty bar then back to the server. Something was afoot here, but drink, really. And he needed to be socializing. “My thanks.” Not like he owned the establishment, but the thought was nice.

“I needed to do what I needed to do. But I'm going to make sure I'm around for everything now.” He stated to Danger. Downing his whiskey, he looked at her, then to the empty bar. “Another?” And then he should go mingle. He was wondering if the drink was delivered properly to the woman that came off of the Butterfly, y'know, the attractive one at the gaming table.

Where had she gone?

[member="Jonathon Patches"] [member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Bright Star Entertainment
The Soul of Corellia
Words
[member="Jonathon Patches"] [member="Marek Starchaser"]

Aeri's calming presence through her empathetic manipulation was really what was holding her together right now. While Danger's expression would relay a notion of calm cordiality, mentally she was struggling with a twisting knot of uneasiness and that tightening in her heart.

"You do know the path to a girl's heart, Mistah Starchaser," Danger would tell him, giving him a winning smile that by all intents and purposes, would appear to reach her eyes. But it really didn't. Perhaps it could be attributed to the situation on Corellia. Maybe it was the overworking? It could be a number of things really.

Truth be told, she could do with some clarity herself.

"Another would do just fine," she'd tell him, allowing his escort over to the bar. Yet the turn and redirection could not halt the glance through her peripheral.

There was no avoiding him. Her eyes would lock upon his form. Danger knew Alric. He was, after all her best friend. They'd gone through the Void and back him and her. Went down roads most folk never get to travel, saw each other bare, beaten, and completely wreched to the point that it was clear there was never any going back.

Maybe that is why the past three years had them riding this line. There is an affection that grows from that sort of experience. More so when they only had each other to really cling to for so long. A dire need to never change the status quo.

To not wreck a good thing. It was far too precious for her to do so.

But was it the smartest thing?

Emerald eyes would latch upon the entwined figures, but the level of affection he would so publicly display then at the far end of the room was enough to jerk her gaze from him. Would she notice his wearing figure? The stumble of his gait? Would those warning bells register? Or would all she see would be a man in the throes of being unable to keep his hands to himself from the woman he loved.

That mental admission would make her wince.

Danger wouldn't need Aeri to tell her who the woman was, even if the Zeltron was trying her best to keep her mind at ease. A sharp pain would rise over her chest, near that still healing wound. Or was that just her heart?

No, there was no need for the grapevine to tell Danger who that woman with the bloodred hair was. Nor need from a Mr. McCoy, Mr. Universe and all, even as her eyes would search for the man in disguise. Information Broker he may be, but there were a few things a woman knew right and well.

There was no need for anyone in the 'verse to tell her.

Not with the brand Alric was so keen on making.

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

After a sweep around the Soul of Corellia and also not being able to locate [member="Pyxis Salm"] - he was an elusive one that Zeltron soul singer - Tmoxin decided to pay a visit to the bar and make sure her donation got into the right hands.

She approached the bar and sat down, crossing her legs demurely. Somewhere around the room she had lost her drink so she ordered a glass of red Corellian wine, one of her favorite vintages. She absolutely adored Corellian wine and kept a whole refrigerator stocked full of it on The Sovereign Butterfly. As she sipped it slowly she looked around the room.

Close to her stood two rugged Corellian men and a beautiful redhead who appeared to know each other well. She wondered if any of them were the hosts of the party tonight.

[member="Jonathon Patches"] [member="Danger Arceneau"] [member="Marek Starchaser"]

 

[Corey's OOC]

Another drink. Excellent.
Marek could do that. Smiling, he offered [member="Danger Arceneau"] the lead to the bar. Well, one of at least two dozen drink slinging establishments on the Soul of Corellia, but clearly the most popular on this deck, and in this room. Watching the redhead look around as he took a seat near the bar and ordered two drinks, clearly not worried about what to order the Trade Queen, he took a second to look around the party... Gala.... thing.

This was the type of event his homeworld needed. Hopefully the funds would get everyone safe and sound, but... he wasn't so sure that was going to be enough. He was listening to the music playing, the main stage had a revolving door of musical acts, and he was fairly certain that there was someone wnadering the floor who was supposed to sing.

Looking over at Danger once more, he felt he needed to ask.

“What's going on? You seem on edge?”

He really didn't want to have someone escorted out, but if it was in the best interest of one of his business partners? He could call the Hegemonic Automaton droids to handle the situation (Hegemonic Automaton, for all your droid needs). And of course, Marek was multi-tasking, while waiting on Danger's answer.

Maybe it was rude, but the wine-drinking woman at the bar was grabbing his attention again. “No need to be shy, shouldn't be off sitting by yourself.” He stated to [member="Tmoxin Temi"] after waiting a little bit for Danger to formulate thoughts.

Distractions and new groups were always fun.

[member="Alric Kuhn"] [member="Silara"]

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Tmoxin turned her head at the Corellian guest who greeted her. "Well come join me," she offered, gesturing to the bar seat beside her.

"My name is Tmoxin," she said. She held up the wine glass and inspected its appearance. "If I wasn't a CEO, I would have been a sommelier on Corellia." This was a half lie. She was a CEO of sorts but oversaw all sorts of shady enterprises. Her new friend didn't need to know the details, at least right away.

"I especially love the Smuggler's Red." She sipped her wine and then asked: "What brings you here? Business or pleasure?"

[member="Marek Starchaser"]

 

[Ellie Mors]

If she hadn't been frustrated with him, she was now. The moment his lips touched her forehead she felt like he'd almost fallen asleep, and his words were so slurred that he was either drunk or close to passing out - and he had hardly had anything to drink just yet. The change in her demeanor was like a switch had been flipped and immediately she admonished him. "You're going to sleep on the way home tonight, and then I don't want to see you awake until at least ten." Silara said in a harsh whisper, not that she actually expected to be listened to - he often stood up all night long just pacing in their bedroom while on the phone, and more than one got out of bed when they were together to answer the phone. Perhaps she didn't like him always giving in to her every whim, but she couldn't stand that sort of neglection - he couldn't buy her satisfaction. Gesturing to a passing server she motioned to Alric, her face distraught. "Could he have a glass of water? He's feeling a bit under the weather." She asked, glad to hear the boy pouring a glass of water while she propped her fiance against her. "Now drink up, your friends are here and I'm sure they'd rather not see you passing out." The red-head demanded, though with less fire than before, perhaps more concerned for her future husband than angry for his lack of sleep.

[member="Alric Kuhn"]

 

[Alric Kuhn]

[member="Silara"] [member="Danger Arceneau"]

He smiled at her, or at least he tried to.

A ringing chimed in his ears. The repeated sound of his communicator going off within his pocket, the reverberating noise that sang an all too familiar song. It sounded once, then twice, then a third time. Over and over again it chimed, and it seemed to cause Alric's face to contort.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Faster it went, faster and faster as the ringing continued.

Thump thump thump thump.

Then it skipped.

Thump............

Pain suddenly shot up his left arm, his face grew numb, and a feeling of absolute tiredness fell over him. Exhaustion on a new level, tiredness, his entire being seemed to whither. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move. Alric struggled, and as his right hand reached out for the glass of water he instead found his weight shifting.

“Silara...” He cut off as he simply collapsed onto the floor.

The call had been the straw that broke the camels back. Dozens of hours of work, lots of sleep, no exercise, smoking, and a multitude of other factors had lead to this. Everything that he had done, and everything that he hadn't done suddenly came to a spot as his heart worked against him. The strain Alric had put on himself, the edge that he had been teetering on, it all came into a crux as he fell to the floor.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Bright Star Entertainment
The Soul of Corellia
Heart Shaped Box

I've been locked in your heart shaped box​

for weeks...​

​

"Nothing that I can't handle," Danger would coo out with a hint of a smile, but there was no warmth in her eyes. Just a vague hollowness that could very well easily be amounted to the most recent events to befall the 'verse.

There was no mistaking the direction of [member="Marek Starchaser"]'s line of sight. No, her eyes would trace that invisible line towards the other woman in the bar. To her surprise, she gave a twist of a smile that was far more genuine than the last.

"And the rounds begin, Starchaser," came her soft words of encouragement, leaning forward to drop them beside his ear. "Live vicariously, like everyday is your last."

Words of prophecy perhaps. Or maybe just more self reflection.

With that, the barkeep gave her another three fingers worth of that golden liquid that was a little bit more rarer than months past. Her hand would close around the glass, and she would cant it up, giving him a small toast.

"To new ventures and new life." at least that was the ongoing toast, her eyes panning back to the area she'd been apt to avoid.

And then time just stopped.

Funny how that works. The 'verse slows to a crawl, as if stuck in this thick clear jelly where everything is just cast in slow motion and all you are doing is just standing there half screaming in your mind.

The outcry of surprise, glasses scattering and a table flipping over would foreshadow a darker period for the next few minutes. Maybe longer. Truth be told, there ain't much of time Danger really had a grasp on when Fate decided to drag you up by the bootstraps and take you out to face a gauntlet.

Really, sometimes she would wonder if perhaps the 'verse had it out for her. Setting her up in these situations set to test her intestinal fortitude and the makings of her battered heart.

It happened ten years ago, with the loss of more than just her heart and faith in love, but in a part of herself that til this day was naught but a memory of a new life that could be. Funny how things repeat themselves. Funny how ultimately, no matter what she had, she still lost all that which she held near and dear.

She certainly never could as a woman of first choice. Nor as a mother. Like life had done rejected her twice and found her wanting.

Maybe at this point and time this was just the icing on the proverbial cake. One last straw to see if she would break when she was already overextended.

So there she was, glass half up to her lips when the ground done just got knocked out under her feet. Ain't like she didn't know where he was; she always did, and like a moth to the flame she was drawn straight to it.

Ain't the kind of gut twisting sensation she'd wish on anyone. It was as if her belly sank down to the very pits of the Nine Hells then strung out to dry, left hanging damn near helpless as everything would just come to a vibrant focus.

Alric fell. Her glass of whiskey followed suit thereafter.

The sound of broken glass would jump start time again, golden pearls of Corellian gold splattering across the floor like wretched tears, slivers of glass cutting at flesh, thirsty for blood.

One name came to the fore, fell from her lips with an anxious raw whisper that spoke a truth than any lengthy phrase could.

"Alric."

Spoiler

[member="Alric Kuhn"] [member="Silara"] [member="Jonathon Patches"] [member="Marek Starchaser"]