Public Eve of Destruction: Coruscant's Crescendo | Open to All

[Marr'tystiq]

CORUSCANT | UNDERWORLD | DOOMSDAY EVE
11:49:30PM

PLEASE HIT THE PLAY BUTTON OH MY GOD ​

From the lowest levels of the underground to the tippy-tops of skyscrapers, the layers of Coruscant were vibrant with an energy that had been vying to be released since the Senate’s decision to relocate. Migrating to Fondor marked impending doomsday, and since then, the dollars in Mystique’s world had gone up. People were desperate to disassociate from the inevitable reality of an oncoming invasion, and in recent days, the broadcasts from The Dark Lord and Grandmaster Noble only served to amplify their fears.

First, it had started as whispers. Murmurs that moved through the Underworld of horrors to come. Level by level, rumours started to rise and more citizens sought the coping mechanisms she distributed. Tonight felt like a crescendo, with the party reaching the upper levels and overtaking every club. From the Uscru to CoCo to Pawalo, entertainment facilities in each district all displayed the same synchronised count-up, from parsecs to secs to rotations — the number of days from the decision to move to Fondor until..well…the final alarms blared and doomsday was truly declared.

That time had yet to come — it was all anticipation and nerves and people loved it. The suspense of if had been relegated to when. Bets were placed, and every hour or so, someone would cash out with more than they’d started the day with. Others would not, and turn to drink to assuage their sorrows.

Beyond the synchronised seconds, each club harmonised their playlist to the mind numbing beats of DJ Glowwocky. A four-armed Ardennian Maestro who’d taken it upon himself to claim all the royalties of remixing the recent broadcasts from Solipsis and Valery Noble.

Solipsis’ voice vibrated through the synthesiser, pulsating with bass. C-chc-c-c-c-children of the galaxy!

Synths swelled, snares snapped, and a distant echo of melody lingered in the background, hinting at the explosion of an imminent sound. Every beat, every note, is a step closer to the climax, a crescendo of energy permeating through the gyrating bodies. Faces lit with expectation, eyes closed, hands in the air, the crowd was ready.

And then, a moment of silence, as if Coruscant’s partygoers all held their breath unanimously, suspended in that shared, fleeting instant. Time slowed, and all that existed was the collective inhale of thousands of souls.

The DJ's hands hovered, poised for the final strike.

We must all stand togetherRRRR!

The Grandmaster of The New Jedi Order’s voice marked the climax of the build up — her “rr” rolled into a tidal wave of bass and rhythm that crashed over the crowd. The floor seems to tremble under the weight of the sound. Bodies convulse in a shared frenzy, arms thrown into the air, mouths open in a primal scream of release.

“THIS IS DJ GLOWWOCKY WITH YOU TONIGHT, LET’S DANCE LIKE IT’S OUR LAST!”​

Technicolour lights synced perfectly with the music, strobing and flashing in time with each thud of the beat, Time seems blurred while the crowd frenzied to the beat’s euphoric release. Faces of all species were illuminated in flashes of blue, red, and green, each one a portrait of pure, unbridled joy.

CLUB EVERLIGHT | USCURU DISTRICT​

Everlight, a dazzling beacon situated between two worlds, bridged the chasm between the destitution below and the grandeur above. This sector, a blend of rundown neighbourhoods and towering high-rises, lured clandestine companions from all walks of life. Tails, claws, scales, lekku, fur — the patrons of Everlight had it all.

Created to be a waystation between disparate territories, a neutral ground where the impoverished could catch a glimpse of the finer things in life, while the affluent were reminded of how perilously close they stood to ruin. The latter, of course, were charged a hefty fee for entry. The nightclub's grand opening years past coincided with the Day of the Worker, a subdued celebration honoring the Coruscanti Union Workers who reconstructed the Core Worlds following the One Sith's downfall at the hands of the original Galactic Alliance. Tonight, it celebrated the workers who withstood the dismay that came with impending doom.

The nightclub was a microcosm of indulgence—private lounge rooms for serene drinking, pulsating dance floors, a bar stocked with every popular libation in the galaxy and several obscure ones for the adventurous. Volume didn’t even drop through the corridors, the music synchronised through all entertainment facilities infused the entire venue with an electric energy. Inside, the revellers were presumably immersed in a whirlwind of pleasure, with the drinks flowing freely, the music intensifying as the night progressed, and a diverse array of beautiful attendants catering to the whims of the guests.

Just beyond the noise, on a private patio, the hostess entertained a small collection of profiteers and investors. They all stood gathered in a semi-circle with their vices of choice, some in glasses, some in glowing sticks, to toast to the success of the serendipitous festival.


“And this is the heartbeat of Coruscant tonight, a defiant celebration in the face of impending doom.” Mystique cooed, leaning against a railing that put her nearly into the clouds, well above the steady stream of air traffic. “Some will say, while the city dances on, each pulse is a testament to the resilience and spirit of its people.” Her lips pressed against the rim of her flute and a wicked grin cracked through the ruby paint. Eyes glinted.

“Others know better.”

____________________________________________________________

OOC || OPEN THREAD FOR ALL PRECEDING THE INVASION OF CORUSCANT. THE WRITING'S ON THE WALL. DEAL WITH IT HOW YOU WILL. DANCE 'TILL YOU DIE KINDA ENERGY. SPEND ALL YOUR MONEY BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT GONNA NEED IT WHEN YOU'RE DEAD.

___________________________________________________________​

 

[Desmond Forgrave]

_________________________________________________________________________________________________​

It was a genius idea really.

The moment the Alliance had pulled out of Coruscant en force to Fondor the panic had begun. What better way to tell your people you had no faith in protecting them, then to move your headquarters and decision makers to a different planet altogether. It basically screamed ‘we will not protect you’, because if they did, they wouldn’t have hauled ass themselves as soon as Tython and Teta became lost to the Alliance.

Everlight was the linchpin between grunge and luxury.

Mystique refused to tell him who owned it. It certainly wasn’t her, but even just a casual inspection by his people walked him into a wall.

‘Horus’ did not sound like a real name. More like a comic book villain.

“You must be really proud of yourself.” Desmond said over the rim of his own flute. The streets below made way for them, the skies above parting. It truly was a stellar location. He wondered if he should buy it.

“But we both know I will have a chance to beat you. Either the Alliance hits back or I will host a funeral party.”

Maybe both.

“How did you get advance notice on the time of invasion? Don’t think I didn’t see the bet you placed under your alias.”

Unless it was just a feint from her to try and coax him into losing a fortune. It would be so like her to blow a fortune away merely to get him to do the same. Desmond would have been impressed if it wasn’t such a pain in his ass.

Marr'tystiq

 

[Wiovach Ham]

Commissioner Goss of the Velcar Free Commerce Zone stepped out of the sleek hover-limousine, within the Uscuru District of Coruscant as the thunderous noise of starfighters flew overhead in preparation for the assault on Coruscant by the Dark Empire. Adjusting the large robe wrapped around his figure, he made his way towards Club Everlight, the booming music and soft chatter growing louder with each step.

As he moved past the entrance of the club, the flashing lights and bodies moving to the beat of the music became more apparent. Goss scanned the room, moving through the thick crowd, he managed to secure a private lounge within the corner for his own enjoyment.

Ordering a large glass of their finest wares, from the service droids floating around the place. The droids glided effortlessly between tables, their metallic bodies reflecting the soft glow of the neon lights.

As they approached with the drink in hand, the Quarth understood that the Galactic Alliance was in trouble.

 

[Kyric]

Outside the Everlight, across the street and atop an old abandoned hotel, Kyric watched the throng of neon-lit citizens waiting to enter the club. Fear buzzed atop the crowd, drowned out by an existential need to feel. The basest of sentient desires intermingled to create the very same atmosphere the kiffar experienced back in clubs on Denon.

It made Kyric queasy.

| Sir. | Arthur, the AI gifted to him by his missing mentor, buzzed within his ear. | Your contact is expecting you any moment. I would advise you to make haste. |

"Yeah, yeah..." Kyric grumbled. "S'been a while since I've been anywhere near a club. You know it ain't my scene." He stepped up to the ledge and dropped. His brief fall ended in a small suppression field that felt like falling through a thick jam. The alleyway opened up to a raging block party. Speeders blared music from inside the club to those outside. Street vendors set up temporary stands and began pedaling food and drink to the line of partygoers.

A series of thin crimson plates slid into position over Kyric's face as he passed beyond the shadow of the alley. His mask's mechanisms continued to shift and move until it resembled the likes of an ancient tengu from Atrisian folklore. The kiffar's black hair cascaded to rest just above his shoulders. Tiny red, blue, and purple beads were braided throughout the thick mop. His high-cut black leather jacket revealed a bare midriff laced with old cuts and blaster burn. An obnoxious amount of buckles were sewn into the leather, each one color-coded to the scarlet and cerulean within his hair. His plum crop top hung six inches above poofy black joggers that tightened around his shins. Tall black boots embroidered with amethyst flowers tied the whole ensemble together.

It had been a while since Kyric could peruse his father's old closet for something fun, and his old man's taste for fashion always did wonders for his son's confidence.

A bulky trandoshan stood at the entry with a datapad. Kyric guessed it was updated live with information regarding the facility, such as the VIP list and current body count. The alien made the kiffar on approach and held up a hand. "Name?"

Kyric smiled beneath his mask. "Move."

The trandoshan stepped aside mechanically.

The swordsman stepped into the facility with the swagger of a man meant to be there. Music pulsed all around him, sending tiny vibrations through his body at uneven intervals. The scent of burning spice lingered alongside strong liquor. Bodies pressed up against the kiffar in a feral need for stimulation, but he paid them little mind and stalked toward the bar. Curiosity led many to stop and outright stare at the outlandish mask that adorned his face. He offered them nothing, not even a sidelong glimpse.

Capris Halcyon ​

 

[Marr'tystiq]

​

Tonight served as both a social experiment for the impending doomsday and a trial run for Aiko Hayata 's HRDs. Mystique had been considering opening an Artisian-themed lounge somewhere just outside the Core. Onderon, most likely.

Thus, Mystique kept an eye on the droids, checking on a tiny palm-sized data pilot in her hand. Imperceptibly and delicate, she smoothed her thumb across the screen to input commands that prioritized patrons of a higher decree. One of the HRDs on the floor, a beautiful design with a pale-white face and ruby-red lips, picked up the cue and swanned to the private booth of Qserenynth Goss .

"Commissioner, welcome to the party," she greeted cooly, taking the glass of wine from the droid server and personally delivering it before the huge throated quarth. "Care to place a bet tonight?" An elegant hand swept out, gesturing to the count-up broadcast on the wall in a red that complemented her lipstick.

Upstairs, Mystique chuckled and sipped at the bubbly delight in her crystal. He was so snoopy into her affairs!

"What a curious question you've asked of me. Whatever could you mean, dearest Desmond?" Once he'd told her that his friends called him Des. Ever since, Mystique pointedly called him by his full name. "The hour of impact is even beyond The Grandmaster's greatest seer's. How could I possibly be a part of that little secret?"

A service droid, sleek and shiny, stepped into the semi-circle and offered fresh libations. Mystique swapped her near-empty flute for two more, offering one to the titan of a man who accused her of a rigged outcome.

"Oh dear," Her face fell into faux dismay on behalf of her fellow mogul. "A funeral party sounds host to a pitiful attendance. I'm not sure your numbers would come out on top."

Another of the HRDs moved through the dance floor, and without bespoke direction from the evening's hostess, acted on their own volition; motivated by the unique choice of obscurity. Kyric 's mask was of a design well-familiar to Atrisians. Moving like water through the crowds, the Hayatan artisty plucked a serving tray from a droid and whisked it in the direction of the red-masked individual prettily decorated. Libation sir? We have straws should you wish to keep yourself concealed. Bets are still open if you'd like to grow your pockets.

____________________________________________________________
Qserenynth Goss | Desmond Forgrave | Kyric
___________________________________________________________
​

 

[Wiovach Ham]

Marr'tystiq​

The invigorating drink was delicately set before him, by one of the human attendants having taken it from a passing service droid. He extended a hand to seize it, lifting it towards his generous mouth as the refreshing liquid cascaded down his throat, concluding with a gratifying sound as the vessel was placed back down again, having been depleted to half-full.

"Thank you for such a warm welcome,"

The Quarth said, offering a quick glance at the attendant, taking in the pale-white feace and ruby-red lips. Following their outstretched hand to the count-up broadcast on the wall. Betting posed no harm, provided that an individual possessed the necessary capital, as it could ensure a modest profit for a relatively low-risk venture.

"I have some spare change for the board, I'll put up 50,000 credits. Could you tell the Hostess that I would like to speak to them when they have the time"

He elaborated, reaching into his large robe to retrieve the coin pouch. After grasping the pouch, he handed over the sum without any hesitation. With the Galactic Alliance turning away from Coruscant, the Velcar Free Commerce Zone would have to take a side soon and it would seem the Dark Empire was the most logical choice to avoid complete destruction.

 

[Capris Halcyon]

In stark contrast to the swordsman, Everlight and its grime was very much her scene. Capris wasn't a hedonist by any means—self-destructive, sure— but not the bottle-toting, spice-addicted variant. She just liked the guaranteed loudness that came with joints like these. The fever. And with Sinestra's revelation weighing on her mind like a ton of bricks, Capris needed loud. She needed every synapse in her brain occupied by some variation of booze, bass, and bare skin. Avoidance was her most trusted form of poison after all.

Plucking the straps of her dress to afford herself more coverage, Capris made her way to the center bar. It was the same dress Talin had "gifted" her during their dealings with Cade. A simple black sequined number that looked rather plain when juxtaposed to the menagerie around her. But apparently that didn't afford her the invisibility she intended it to.

It wasn't long before a slurred whistle sounded from behind the bounty hunter as she weaved through bodies—its owner a scarred Zabrak with one too many piercings.

"Buy ya a drink hotstuff?"

"No."

A beefy hand reached for her shoulder, fingers rattling on her skin with undue possession.

"Aw com'on now sweetheart, don't be like that. You really don't have the kind of face to be choosy."

The girl turned, socking the man with a clenched fist — deft and razor-like, similar to how one might stick an opponent with a knife. It was concussive enough to send him shuffling back a few steps, a startled yelp preceding blots of crimson. Capris only offered an indifferent once-over, shaking her hand free of a soft, prickling sting. She then turned her attention back to securing something strong enough to bleach any coherent thoughts from her mind.

Settling at the bartop, Capris lazily waved a hand to the man behind it. Her expression flat and tired. "Give me the closest thing you have to battery acid."

A moment passed and she reconsidered.

"Please."

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

Eyeing the android with hidden suspicion behind the mask, Kyric took the drink in his gloved hand. "I'm not interested in the pre-game." He swirled the contents of the glass rhythmically, allowing the intent behind his words to sink in. "Please do give your Mistress my regards. I excitedly await her next endeavor." His words carried an even tenor, like during his youth, before the years spent on the Treicolt Homestead.

We're really hammin' this one up, huh?

How do you mean?

Masked and mysterious swordsman? Right out of a holoflick. Kyric spirited through the crowd toward the bar in time to catch the familiar young woman striking the zabrak. The horned man clutched a bloodied nose as he stumbled back–anger mixed with shame. It exuded from the man like a psionic stench. Reason battled with the zabrak's darker emotions for several seconds until the rage won. The man reached for something damaging.

Kyric stepped forward and met the alien's gaze through the lenses of his strange mask. "You shouldn't have done that." His words carried an ethereal power that kneaded away any sense or reason. "You will feth off."

"I shouldn't have..." the zabrak struggled with each word. "- done that. No, I- I need to fethin' go home." He turned away slowly and departed from the bar.

The tengu watched the bloodied man disappear into the crowd with a smile. See. We can work together. He turned back to the counter and moved to the space directly beside Capris. Oh yeah, great. I'm so glad we can use our space magic to mind-trick some douchebag in a bar before we go question the chick who left us for dead on Pantora. He set the glass of liquor he acquired down in the empty space on his left.

"Make that two glasses of battery acid," Kyric stated. His voice modulator concealed both gender and tone. "I'm not for the top shelf."

Capris Halcyon | Marr'tystiq ​

 

[Capris Halcyon]

Capris tensed as someone else sidled up to the seat next to her, eyes fluttering shut in quiet exasperation as she prepared to bark away yet another unwanted stranger.

But then he? she? began to talk and Capris couldn't help but listen. The strange mechanized voice beside her seemed harmless enough, its peculiarity dousing any immediate recoil she might otherwise demonstrate. She simply regarded the masked stranger a moment, eyes bobbing up and down the way seeker and his choice of attire. Huh, brave. Within a few moments, the bartender had two glasses brandished for the pair, with liquor strong enough to burn off a mustache.

With an appreciative hand, she dragged the glass close, pinching the straw between two fingers and stirring the ice cubes in a semi-circle. All in deliberate silence.

Then she began with an opener that was as blunt as she was.

"What the hell is on your face."

Her hand positioned her straw to where she could take a lazy sip without breaking eye contact. A single eyebrow inched up ever so slightly.

"You disfigured? Ugly maybe?"

Despite the frankness, It seemed to be asked in the spirit of genuine curiosity. She wasn't one to judge, not when she had her own scars.

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

"What the hell is on your face."

"A mask," Kyric said flatly.

"You disfigured? Ugly maybe?"

The tengu motioned to the scars visible across his lower back and abdomen. "I wear my scars with pride. What use are they hidden?" His mask began its transfiguration process again, exposing deep purple lips as he sipped the drink. He scrunched his nose almost immediately. "Almost as bad as Corellion Whiskey." Kyric threw back his head to finish off the contents with visible disgust. He set the empty glass back on the counter and repositioned to peer at Capris through shifting ocular lenses.

"Coruscant is days away from an attack. Enemies of the Alliance exist in every corner of this planet, and its citizens are the furthest from safe they've been in a quarter of a century. Discretion is an old friend, one I often heed."

Kyric studied the woman closely. Last he saw her, she made off with a sithspawn they hunted together after stringing him through a series of half-hearted lies. The hope there was more to the troubled young woman led the kiffar to believe in her. It didn't turn out so well. Now, she sat beside him in what was supposed to be his informant's chair. Admittedly, the way her dress hugged her lithe frame made it easier for the boy to look past her transgressions. And it was hard for him to imagine the next person to take that chair would compare.

"I would ask why you're here, but I have a feeling you're lost. Like the rest of them?" Kyric motioned over his shoulder with his freshly manicured thumb. Eight of his fingers pointed black polish, while the index fingers matched his lipstick.

Capris Halcyon ​

 

[Capris Halcyon]

At his invitation, her eyes fell to his abdomen. She stared a bit too long at the exposed scars, watching the strobe lights occasionally catch a muscle. Her eyes then took a sudden, prolonged interest in her drink.

"Coruscant is days away from an attack. Enemies of the Alliance exist in every corner of this planet, and its citizens are the furthest from safe they've been in a quarter of a century. Discretion is an old friend, one I often heed."

"Then why don't you leave?" She probed, continuing to work at her drink, "I believe this whole function operates on a "party till your dead" methodology. Discretion seems like an odd choice of priority." Her eyes scanned the surrounding bodies. A frenzied, debauched heap. "You're a little too.. dialed in."

Considering he wasn't blackout drunk or making friction with some scantily clad Twi'Lek, that seemed to hold true. Capris gave him an odd look. He wasn't just here for a bit of respite was he?

"I would ask why you're here, but I have a feeling you're lost. Like the rest of them?"

"I know exactly where I am." she countered, purposefully obtuse. "Can't a girl enjoy her last couple of days without being psychoanalyzed? I came here to drink, not for ruminative conversation" She took a sip of her glass in avoidance.

Her gaze then caught his nails, noting the attention to detail. It wasn't the kind of effort one would put in into their appearance if they intended to die within a matter of days.

She knew she was opening herself up to criticism by asking, but couldn't help it. "Why are you here?"

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

"Then why don't you leave?" She probed, continuing to work at her drink, "I believe this whole function operates on a "party till your dead" methodology. Discretion seems like an odd choice of priority." Her eyes scanned the surrounding bodies. A frenzied, debauched heap. "You're a little too.. dialed in."

That's what you get for the smooth operator act. Kyric tapped his fingers against the bartop in a steady rhythm. His lips curled back into a sly smile at Capris' assessment. He certainly didn't expect her to peer past the haze of her evening so astutely. Yes, cause I'm sure the ever-adorable cowboy retriever would have done so much better. She ditched us in the snow then, yes? His gaze followed hers to a gyrating group of clubbers, then to his polish. She's huntin'. Don't be fooled.

"Why are you here?"

Kyric considered the question, and the questioner, for several seconds. She was far different than the caged beast he found in that Pantoran cave all those weeks back. An inexplicable desire to hurt radiated off of her like the lust that dominated the minds of so many others. Kyric tapped the countertop faster as his attention shifted from her tattoo'd arm to the Y-shaped scar across her pouting features. He was about to make a mistake.

"You're very pointed. Every word, accented by a turn of the chin, or inflection in the voice." Kyric climbed to his feet. "At first I thought it prickly, but its quite charming when you put your guard down." He studied her in the electric blue lighting of the bar, from the nape of her neck down the length of her slender legs.

"Would you like to dance?" the tengu tilted his head to the side, wearing the very same smile as before.

Capris Halcyon ​

 

[Dezorath Barcu]

Dezorath's hulking figure pushed through the doors of the underworld nightclub on Coruscant, immediately enveloped by a cacophony of pulsating music and a dazzling array of neon lights. The nightclub, a popular establishment was a sprawling multi-level complex, with balconies overlooking a central dance floor that teemed with bodies moving in sync with the beat. Holographic displays projected mesmerizing patterns across the walls, and the scent of exotic spices and perfumes mingled with the tang of various alien beverages. As Dezorath stepped inside, his towering figure drew a few glances, but the diverse crowd quickly resumed their revelry. Twi'leks, Rodians, and Humans mingled with a myriad of other species, all united by the infectious energy of the party. Some patrons danced wildly, their forms illuminated by strobe lights, while others lounged in plush seating areas, sipping on colorful drinks and engaging in animated conversations. Waitstaff weaved through the throng with trays of drinks held high, and a DJ, perched in a booth above the dance floor, orchestrated the night's soundtrack with practiced skill.

His gaze swept over the scene, senses bombarded by the sights and sounds. The vibrant atmosphere was a stark contrast to the turmoil in his mind. He felt a pang of conflict being on Coruscant, the heart of the Galactic Alliance, knowing the Dark Empire's sinister plans for the planet. His thoughts drifted to the invasion that loomed on the horizon, the bloodshed and chaos that would ensue. It was a future he wanted no part of, which was why he had deserted, abandoning his rank as brigadier general and the twisted goals of the Empire. The Gen'dai's thirst grew stronger as he wove through the crowd, seeking a moment of solace in the form of a strong drink. He reached the bar, a sleek, chrome affair lined with patrons. As he waited for the bartender, Dezorath tried to push thoughts of war from his mind. The decision to desert had not been easy, but he could no longer align himself with the Empire's ruthless drive for conquest and oppression. The memories of battles fought and lives lost weighed heavily on him, and he yearned for a distraction.

The bartender, a HRD with a beauty that was standard to the taste of most near-humans, approached. "What can I get for you?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the music.

"Something strong," Dezorath replied, his deep voice rumbling. "Surprise me."

" Wait! Mandalorian Wine!!" He shouted but his voice carried no further than everyone's else's.

Tags: Kyric Marr'tystiq Qserenynth Goss Capris Halcyon ​

 

[Lok Xiangu]

Never let a good crisis to waste.

Opportunity presented itself at every corner within Coruscant once the Jedi and the bureaucrats jumped ship at the first sign of trouble with their subjects abandoned. Anyone with an ounce of common sense knew it would be a logistics nightmare to shepherd everyone off of Coruscant except for the wealthy and elite with access to their own private vessel.

Lok made the biggest haul in offering his spacefaring services for a hefty cost all while importing narcotics. There was much at stake for the Alliance which gave opportunist to jump while it lasted. While some clawed their way to escape, others drowned themselves in vices to forget their woes. DEAF was the limelight on the streets for both rich and poor.

His nasal senses were overwhelmed by the smell of DEAF here in Everlight, smiling at the success of tonight as he had peddlers working popular corners.

Tonight he’d celebrate without much of a conscience to hold him back.

Tomorrow he’d book for it before being caught in the crossfire.

“Let’s see if we can bag some broads with daddy’s money,” he said with a smug as he and his Devaronian friend walked to the bar to start with a drink. Drink up and let the booze do the rest of the work.

Nearby tags: Kyric | Capris Halcyon | Dezorath Barcu

 

[Capris Halcyon]

He dodged the question. Right- discretion was a friend of his. She was in a bad habit of expecting the truth when she was nothing but a series of half-lies herself.

"You're very pointed. Every word, accented by a turn of the chin, or inflection in the voice." Kyric climbed to his feet. "At first I thought it prickly, but its quite charming when you put your guard down."

Charming. Capris let out a small, unbelieving laugh, "I appreciate the feedback."

He then invited her to dance.

At that she blinked. He wanted to dance with her? After all she'd done was sling insults and be objectively off-putting? Capris considered the offer. Without entirely meaning to, her thoughts drifted back to the cherub boy from Pantora (as they so often did nowadays.) He'd led with heart and unapologetic honor— what she was slowly beginning to assume was just a snakeskin. And while the man before her wore his own mask it wasn't one of intimidating virtue. Unlike Kyric, she could sense a deficit in him. A barrier between them she didn't have to worry about crumbling. And so they were of the same breadth. Two not-particularly great people in a not-particularly great place.

"You're a strange…man I assume? Persistent."

The girl rose to her feet, head canting up slightly to regard the tengu mask. Her barbs weren't nearly getting her the reactions she craved. And for some reason or another that Zabrak from before hadn't taken her callousness as an open invitation to brawl as she'd hoped. Capris was a tailspin of dark emotions, and there was nowhere for them to go.

She then brushed past, checking him with her shoulder and making sure there was enough oomph behind the act to turn him her way.

It was then, with feet planted on the dance floor, Capris actually smiled at the man.

♫

Kyric nearby tags Dezorath Barcu Lok Xiangu

 

[Kyric]

"You're a strange…man I assume? Persistent."

Kyric trailed after Capris onto the dance floor, his smile enshrouded in shadow from the backlighting provided by the bar. Two tiny question marks appeared within the optical sensors trained on her tawny gaze. "You're taking shots at every unlucky soul to step within reach. Don't project." He stepped around her left side, his arm snaking around her abdomen to pull her back against his chest. His lips lingered beside her ear, his mask's comically long nose poking out into her peripheral. The sound of shifting metal and turning plates would herald another transfiguration of the mask into something more appropriate for the occasion.

The hideous monster from Atrisian legend had been replaced by a far more sleek design that resembled a simple theater mask, if not for the glowing light within and neopunk flair without.

"Persistent? I suppose so," Kyric would whisper into her ear, as if the statement was some closely guarded secret. "Maybe I'm saving all those fools the trouble of a bloody nose." His other hand slid down her leg until the kiffar reached out to take her hand and shamelessly explore the bend of her neck. "Or maybe I enjoy the attention. A beautiful girl. A busy club." His lips brushed against her ear as he pulled away and twirled her to face him, only to immediately step back into their shared closeness, his purple-tinted lips now hovering inches from hers.

An aroma like wild jasmine wafted off Capris. The scent was more intoxicating to Kyric in that moment than the two-credit chit she ordered at the bar. He breathed her in and his optical sensors flashed with tiny flowers.

Capris Halcyon ​

 

[Capris Halcyon]

She couldn't help an involuntary snort as the nose of his mask poked past her. It was absurd, just like everything else about this situation. But she wasn't about to rationalize through her decisions, not when she could indiscriminately blame the influence of alcohol.

Besides, context aside, it did feel nice to be held.

With a mechanized hiss, the plating of his mask folded in of itself and Capris canted her head upwards in response. Her gaze fluttered in sincere interest as she took in the new design. It was then her hand raised to cup the edge of mask, fingers brushing against the skin on his neck as a thumb rested by his chin.

"That's a neat party trick." she commented, allowing his manicured fingers to trail against her neck. "You did have me worried I'd be cozying up to a troll."

"Maybe I'm saving all those fools the trouble of a bloody nose."

Tawny eyes peered up at him as her shoulder blade pressed more into his chest. A pointed reminder he wasn't free from that fate.

"Or maybe I enjoy the attention. A beautiful girl. A busy club."

Beautiful. Her expression suddenly dropped a moment, sucked out of the mindless flirting in a rare bit of uncertainty. She seemed confused by her own reaction and quickly resealed her gaze to that same practiced distance. One that couldn't be reached. Couldn't be hurt.

It was then she watched tiny flowers form in his lenses and grinned at the implication.

"I'd love to return the compliment, but I'm assuming no amount of perfume is about to pry that thing off you."

His face ventured dangerously close. The girl leaned forward a moment, a breath escaping her…right before she brought a thumb up to interfer. His chin rested on her index finger as she lowered it to her height. Like one might examine a mirror— if Kyric allowed it— she would rotate his mask cheek to cheek.

"What do I say to get you to trust me enough?"

The question seemed to be genuine.

"Promise I won't laugh if you actually do turn out ugly."

And she highly doubted he would.

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

Insecurities tore her eyes from Kyric's. Probably the same insecurities that left him for dead on Pantora, and wound her so seamlessly around his finger now. The distant look in her eyes betrayed an unwillingness to be vulnerable. No matter how close he pushed, she pushed back and broke down any headway he managed.

It was infuriating... and admittedly a tad alluring.

"I'd love to return the compliment, but I'm assuming no amount of perfume is about to pry that thing off you."

"What do I say to get you to trust me enough?"

The question seemed to be genuine.

"Promise I won't laugh if you actually do turn out ugly."

"Trust is something I have in abundance," Kyric stated firmly. Once again he took her hand in his. He planted kisses on her index, middle, and ring fingers before two hearts appeared within the lenses. A tiny fissure began to work its way down the center of each until they cracked apart and shattered into thousands of individual pixels. "You're welcome to take it off, but the night will end when you do."

He released her hand to accentuate the point. "You won't like what you find."

Kyric took a step back, then a second. His body melted back into the crowd like a specter. Only two flashing question marks revealed his whereabouts as he retreated from the bar and up the stairs to the VIP lounge.

Another pair of HRDs greeted him with smiling faces.

"Good evening, sir," the first began.

"How can we help you?" the other inquired.

The kiffar peered past them to a private booth tucked away from the worst of the neon lights. "That should suffice." He continued past them and settled into the cushioned seats. Speakers built into the wall played the very same music from the main floor, but it was softer here, more of an ambiance than the main event. He lounged back lazily, one foot on the opposite cushion, while drinks were delivered to his table by the pretty-faced androids.

Capris Halcyon ​

 

[Capris Halcyon]

"You won't like what you find."

He left her alone with that thought, a single hand returning to her side, tendons flexed. What? Did he expect her to follow after like some dog at his heel?

The girl stood there a moment, swarmed in in a mix bodies and heat as a sign of protest. It was mind numbing enough..maybe she could just float a little longer. A grimy trandoshan then seemed to take notice of her lack of a partner and shot the girl a toothy grin. Capris sighed and immediately began to track Kyric's bread crumbs.

Measured steps took her up to the VIP lounge. Kyric was seated at a velvet booth, one she made ground for with unhurried but alert movements

"Running away?" The girl asked, head cocked to the side. Her eyes thinned in mild scrutiny, "You're right, maybe I won't like what I find."

Either way she slid into the table without invitation, scooching his heel from the seat. Her hand then tapped on the table's ledge, as if considering whether or not to reach up and unmask the man across from her.

"Is there a reason you decided to come up here? Mr…"

She left space open for a name.

Kyric

 

[Kyric]

You know we can't play coy all evenin'. Kyric took one of the four beverages left on the table and lifted it to his lips. Hesitating at the precipice, he lowered it back to the table and scowled. I know. Capris' head peeked over the final step. Bah. Fuck it. Let's throw the die and see where it lands. His scowl pulled back into a small smile at the decision. All this back and forth was fun. It fed the parts of him that still yearned for the simpler times back home on Denon, when he could smile the same pretty smile at the girls that his father gave their mothers. But the game had to come to an end.

She would hate him enough as is.

Kyric took in her approach at full. She was slender and scarred, like a wild cat. The danger never quite abated when she looked at him, but it softened–enough for the kiffar to get lost in the soft browns of her eyes. His fingers tightened around the glass from before and he carried it to his lips for a deep drink.

"Running away?" The girl asked, head cocked to the side. Her eyes thinned in mild scrutiny, "You're right, maybe I won't like what I find."

Gettin' cold feet?

Can you blame me? Kyric's gaze lingered on individual strands of black hair that poked out of her bun. She's a real spitfire. The kind of girl Kyla would never approve of. I can see why we were so eager to forgive her.

"Is there a reason you decided to come up here? Mr…"

"Privacy," Kyric explained. "I wanted to enjoy the final moments of whatever this is." The admission came out as easily as anything else he said that evening, but the kiffar felt different. "I wasn't bluffing. You can take off my mask and learn my identity, I won't stop you, but..." He reached across the table, slowly, as if battling himself every inch, and took her hands in his. Guiding them to the two latches that removed his helmet, he placed her fingers against the mechanism and stared through the ocular lenses deep into her eyes.

"All I would ask of you first is your name." The lenses flashed with question marks again "Mystery works wonders for you, but I'm a greedy man. And I want to walk away from this evening having gained something for what I'm about to lose."

Capris Halcyon ​