Administrator
Srina felt a familiar presence closing in on their small group. It was subtle darkness twined with a comforting warmth that she knew all too well. Her delicate hand rose without looking, the back of it touching her Master on the shoulder as he spoke, grateful that he had arrived to diffuse whatever it was that Akabane Jarvik was up to. She was not equipped for things like this. Immature behavior came to her rarely, fleetingly, and she especially avoided it in front of people of importance. Hence her refusal to join in the drinking contest. “Perhaps he merely needed a breath of fresh air Master…The hall is a little crowded.”
That was putting it lightly. It wasn’t like the aristocratic viewing party that she had attended for the Golbah Games. Precise, elite, and refined was a more accurate way to describe it. This was different. Louder. Carefree. There was no anticipation of a blood sport on the horizon. This was to be, as she understood it, entertaining and relaxing.
Gray eyes followed every movement Akabane made without shame. She visually picked him apart, analytical and silent, filing away details about him as efficiently as possible. He seemed embarrassed by her presence specifically but not so much that he couldn’t make polite conversation. It wasn’t until he stopped talking and jumped up onto the balcony ledge that she became pliable and lifelike. Akabane Jarvik was not a close acquaintance, not someone she knew personally, but he did belong to her Master. In that sense she cared for his well-being. “I enjoy the festivities as well as can be expected…Though I would enjoy things far more if you would get down from there.”
While others might have danced around the elephant on the balcony, Srina stated plainly, and clearly what she wanted. If he fell and broke his neck, or more precisely, every bone in his body, the Silvers would no doubt feel responsible. They seemed the type to shoulder blame where none was to be had, save, for the idiot boy imbibing and performing an impromptu balancing act.
Her Master spoke his peace next and the pale Echani remained wordless throughout. While some might have heard a playful suggestion from the Sith Lord, Srina heard real orders, and she nodded her head in acceptance. Akbane, if he were even the slightest bit worth his salt, would soon be attempting to sweep her auburn haired friend off her feet. “As you wish, my Master. That sounds lovely.”
Padawan Swail was apparently just as concerned and also made an earnest attempt to bring Jarvik down from the ledge. She was Jedi through and through—soothing and genuine. It would be hard for anyone to refuse her pleasant request. Regardless, the silvery apprentice offered Stephanie an encouraging smile. “It’ll be all right…At worst, he may dance like a rancor. On the other hand…You might just wind up with another Sith apprentice for a friend.”
Akabane Jarvik was dashingly handsome, that was a fact. Mercurial silver eyes inaudibly willed him to obey their master. Yes, handsome indeed. If only his common sense was as equally extraordinary.
Her perfect porcelain features broke as a well-designed smile formed and tension eased from her bones. The small Echani reached up and stole the drink that Darth Metus held, likely in mid-sip, and deposited it on the edge of a small decorative pillar. “You cannot very well dance one-handed and don’t even think to try. Let me remind that you spent far too much on this dress to ruin it with liquor.”
Srina reached out and took her Masters hand, as she had a hundred times before, and little fingers wrapped neatly around his. Her innate formality and ease of familiarity with Darth Metus was in complete dichotomy of itself. It was simply how they were. Dark and light. The graceful woman slid by him, passing another smile at Stephanie, before her form disappeared past silken curtains, tugging the Sith Lord with her.
Liquid silver eyes briefly met glowing burnished ginger and she nodded her head slightly toward the dance floor. This is what he wanted, was it not? “Shall we?”
[member="Stephanie Swail"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Akabane Jarvik"] |
That was putting it lightly. It wasn’t like the aristocratic viewing party that she had attended for the Golbah Games. Precise, elite, and refined was a more accurate way to describe it. This was different. Louder. Carefree. There was no anticipation of a blood sport on the horizon. This was to be, as she understood it, entertaining and relaxing.
Gray eyes followed every movement Akabane made without shame. She visually picked him apart, analytical and silent, filing away details about him as efficiently as possible. He seemed embarrassed by her presence specifically but not so much that he couldn’t make polite conversation. It wasn’t until he stopped talking and jumped up onto the balcony ledge that she became pliable and lifelike. Akabane Jarvik was not a close acquaintance, not someone she knew personally, but he did belong to her Master. In that sense she cared for his well-being. “I enjoy the festivities as well as can be expected…Though I would enjoy things far more if you would get down from there.”
While others might have danced around the elephant on the balcony, Srina stated plainly, and clearly what she wanted. If he fell and broke his neck, or more precisely, every bone in his body, the Silvers would no doubt feel responsible. They seemed the type to shoulder blame where none was to be had, save, for the idiot boy imbibing and performing an impromptu balancing act.
Her Master spoke his peace next and the pale Echani remained wordless throughout. While some might have heard a playful suggestion from the Sith Lord, Srina heard real orders, and she nodded her head in acceptance. Akbane, if he were even the slightest bit worth his salt, would soon be attempting to sweep her auburn haired friend off her feet. “As you wish, my Master. That sounds lovely.”
Padawan Swail was apparently just as concerned and also made an earnest attempt to bring Jarvik down from the ledge. She was Jedi through and through—soothing and genuine. It would be hard for anyone to refuse her pleasant request. Regardless, the silvery apprentice offered Stephanie an encouraging smile. “It’ll be all right…At worst, he may dance like a rancor. On the other hand…You might just wind up with another Sith apprentice for a friend.”
Akabane Jarvik was dashingly handsome, that was a fact. Mercurial silver eyes inaudibly willed him to obey their master. Yes, handsome indeed. If only his common sense was as equally extraordinary.
Her perfect porcelain features broke as a well-designed smile formed and tension eased from her bones. The small Echani reached up and stole the drink that Darth Metus held, likely in mid-sip, and deposited it on the edge of a small decorative pillar. “You cannot very well dance one-handed and don’t even think to try. Let me remind that you spent far too much on this dress to ruin it with liquor.”
Srina reached out and took her Masters hand, as she had a hundred times before, and little fingers wrapped neatly around his. Her innate formality and ease of familiarity with Darth Metus was in complete dichotomy of itself. It was simply how they were. Dark and light. The graceful woman slid by him, passing another smile at Stephanie, before her form disappeared past silken curtains, tugging the Sith Lord with her.
Liquid silver eyes briefly met glowing burnished ginger and she nodded her head slightly toward the dance floor. This is what he wanted, was it not? “Shall we?”
[member="Stephanie Swail"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Akabane Jarvik"] |