First Order: A Herevan Rose

[Valessia Brentioch]

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Reimalai Opera House & Theater​

Prosperia, Dosuun​

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Music from the Reimalai could be heard for miles, and miles this evening in Prosperia. Prosperia the second city of Dosuun and proud financial centre of the First Order boasted an old late Galidraani styled theatre built in the memory of Fleet Admiral Fiolette Yvarro's sister-in-law Reima Fortan. Within the halls of the opera house, an orchestra, waiters, bartenders, and one Valessia Brentioch. Tonight she would once again play host to the ball, and tonight as she looked down the entrance, knew that it was getting close to the opening ceremony. This year's ball would operate differently the orchestra would play in the concert hall and the music would be broadcast throughout the opera house. Enabling guests to dance, dine and enjoy the orchestra in person and this also enabled Valessia to charge for various packages, making it easier for her to raise money for the Wounded Veterans and Memorial Fund.

Tonight she would be more than the host, she would be the coordinator and overall manager of the ball. "As requested the bartenders will serve a limited amount of beverage tonight, Ambassador." Mr. Kyriacou remarks quietly, Charalamo Kyriacou the opera house's contracted caterer for the event stands a little taller than the Ambassador, shoulders wide hands tucked behind his back. "A select menu has also been sent to you and the Grand Moff for approval."

"Excellent," she says with a smile turning to look at the man, Valessia's gaze moves up so she can meet his eyes, "and the equipment?"

"Mr. Clifton has informed me that all of our audio and visual systems are good to go, holoscreens are up for all to view no matter where in the Opera House they might be," he says with a nod, "we're setting up at the ticket booth outside and here, to assist the attendees with directions and of course all attendees will have these, as you have prescribed." He holds up a small band that would fit around the waist. "Security will ensure that no one without one is allowed in."

She gives the man a nod of acknowledgement, "good, and the raffle prizes?"

"Locked away tightly, Ambassador." He clears his throat, motioning to the chronometer along the wall.

"Right, okay." Valessia says giving the man's arm a squeeze, "thank you Mr. Kyriacou."

Walking away from him she hears the man bark out a few more orders while she goes in search of tonight's conductor Mr. Kenmen. Kenmen was a guest conductor last year and this year was asked to conduct the First Imperial Philharmonic Orchestra, which in truth had been the same Orchestra as last year. They just liked the fancy title, and it would allow for a new First Imperial Orchestra to crop up, eventually. Heading down the corridor, she can't help but smile at the design - is this what it felt like to be on Galidraan she wondered? Natasi would probably say not even in the slightest, still - it was magnificent. From here the sound check felt real, vibrations of the bass section the sound of instruments playing beautifully together grew closer and louder with each step.

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"Mr. Kenmen!" Valessia shouts, managing to grab his attention on the first try. Kenmen waves the Ambassador toward the center of the concert hall where he and his orchestra are playing. "Mr. Kenmen," she greets adjusting her dress just a bit.

Adjusting his spectacles the older gentleman gives her a smile, "Ambassador Brentioch, a pleasure - a pleasure are we ready to start?"

"Indeed we are, do you have the list?"

He nods, "of course I do have the list, and I thank you for having me this evening."

"My pleasure and really thank you, I should be thanking you especially for all the work that you've done with the Victorian Music Academy." She says mentioning the music Academy in Victoria that now actively trains musicians and artists for service in the First Imperial Order or perhaps to try and make it on their own some day. Music was life, and life in the First Order without it - would be quite dull.

Kenmen gives his suit a tug, "it is a beautiful thing to see the lights in their eyes when they understand it, to hear their own compositions, to see them writing music. So I thank you, Ambassador. And now, as they say - the show will begin."

"Indeed it will, Mr. Kenmen, thank you."

The doors to the Reimalai Opera House and Theater were now open, and as the guests arrived they would not only be greeted by a marvel of both old and new architecture the influence of Fiolette Yvarro's Galidraani hertiage but also a statue devoted to her sister-in-law. This statue stands in the main foyer to be seen by all who walk through the doors of the Opera House.

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A small plaque beneath it gave a small, thoughtful glimpse into what had been Reima's life, personality and passions and it ended with the enscribed, in loving memory.

Valessia herself took a moment to look at the statue and gave a smile, "wish us luck tonight, Reima."

With that, the Ambassador moved toward the entrance to greet tonight's attendees in person - as the first song of the night began to play.

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBLaMmxyibE[/media]​

 

[Sara Lee Jones]

Makeup check...hair check...dress...yea she was ready, she double checked again, she gave a sigh, it was different from the military dress...today she was dressed up fancy...least she'd say so...this came from a pilot who regular got dirty working on ties in her spare time

She put her high heels on and stepped out checking the time...[member="Aran Piett"] should be arriving soon...she hoped...the man had asked her on this...could she call it a date? She thought about it and guessed it could be considered so

Spoiler

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/269384313265455124/279075830511173632/b55a48620baaf381c6708dfaea99b3b0.jpg

 

[Rexus Wenck]

For Rexus Wenck, the last month had been a blur. From Hoth to Kaeshana, to Dosuun, Rexus had been through a lot. On Hoth, he'd suffered a bout of food poisoning after his food hadn't been prepped properly. But that now paled in comparison to the fact he'd lost his motherkarking arm. Damn Alliance coward couldn't take losing, living with her wounds, and had activated a detonator between them. He had to be evacuated, along with most of the rest of his platoon, who'd valiantly held the line against what seemed to be a never ending barrage of automatons and automaton-like GADF personnel.

After the battle, he woke on Dosuun two days later, with preparations for cybernetic prosthetic a lightsaber and a new rank. It was a bit weird losing your left arm. Not that Rexus ever really needed it. He predominantly used his right hand. It was just, well, bizarre for him to no longer have it. That being said, it was a big draw card when hiring escorts. With war now inevitable, it seemed every lady of the night was trying to do their patriotic bit. And for Rexus, that meant quite a mark down on the usual price for a big handsome vet like himself.

Rexus walked down Prosperia's streets, flanked by his top sergeants, Twigg, Arry and Gerda sauntered down the grand avenues of Prosperia. Arry and Gerda had paid for company for the evening, who clung to their arms, while Twigg and Rexus went without. All three were dressed in the best suits they could muster, which were particularly poor in the light of the prestigious company they were about to keep. The group walked up to the entrance of the opera house, and siddled up to the doorman.

"Evenin' guv." Rexus said, cracking a smile, his left cheek still bore the scars of being torn up by a thermal detonator, "I'm Captin' Wenck, and these 'ere are Mister Dergan Twigg," he said, "Mister and Misses Arytom Valdez, and Mister and Misses Zamel Gerda." Rexus then paused, "We're on the invite list, right?"

 

[Kuzo]

"Nisha, come on, we're going to be late!"

Irajah and [member="Nisha Skaiyr"] were in her apartment in Avalonia. It had made more sense to get ready there than to come from Panatha. While she was used to the commute, it just seemed like it would be uncomfortable.

Padding over to the window, Irajah sighed as she looked out over the city. She was barely here any more, spending so much of her time at Vain Hollow. She loved this city, loved to watch the shimmering lights in the night. It had been the first place to feel a little bit like home in nearly a year But the apartment seemed so empty without Boo, Azi and Bantam. Even with her friend here it wasn't the same. Perhaps those scant months there, that strange, tiny family, was an anomaly. Something she could never get back. She breathed in deeply, trying to ease the ache in her chest.

What's all this Irajah? Tonight is for fun, not for moping. Everything is going so well. Even if he's off studying, Boo is happy and you helped him get there. You have your work and more. Friends, an incredibly generous lover. Stop being a sad sack. Cheer up. You'll have a wonderful time.

She grimaced at herself, chuckling ruefully and shaking her head.

Wandering back into the living room, she perched on the couch, pulling her shoes over. Her short, dark hair fell around her face in loose curls. She wore the barest trace of make-up, a light touch with a brush. Her dress had been one of many she had been able to chose from, ready and waiting for her on Panatha. She didn't know much about fashion beyond what she liked and looked good, but even she could tell that the gown was ludicrously expensive. Slipping on the low heeled, silver sling back sandals, she stood up again, absently fiddling with the long strand of tiny diamonds trailing from her ear lobes- another gift.

"Nisha? Are you coming out? Or are you going to make me show up alone?" She called out, her voice teasing.

In a week, the nightmare would start. But for now, here, tonight, Irajah was smiling, waiting for her friend.

 

[Aran Piett]

Looking into the mirror in his hotel room, he couldn't get used to the new rank boards on his dress uniform. Though deserving it, he felt it came at way to high of a price for him. Aran's forces in orbit took a beating, most the crews of the escorts were either wounded or killed, as well as many he served with on the Subjugator. He was also very nervous, this would be his first so call events like this, and on top of it the first time he would be around someone other than the now Commander Hasley. On the plus side he wasn't sweating so there wouldn't be anything noticeable of him being nervous, but the man was scared. Commanding Naval forces, and ordering the attack on another ship was one thing. A date was something completely new and different to him.​

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Finishing up in the bathroom, with a shave, making sure he looked his best. He checked his tie again, things were perfect, but yet he couldn't shake off the feeling something wasn't. Once he talked himself down to where things were fine, he took a look at the clock, it was time. Taking a deep breath in he stepped out of the hotel room and made his way to meet up with his date.​

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[member="Sara Lee Jones"]​

 

[Sara Lee Jones]

Sara looked around and checked again, she gave a sigh then she heard walkimg and looked up as she gave a smile, she moved to start walkimg beside him as she smirked

starting to think you got cold feet, glad to see you didn't, might I say you look...I can't find the words for it

Truly she couldnt...she wasn't good with compliments outside of the tie...really socially she wasn't the best at all...she blamed her younger years at the Academy for that little bit..either way she was excited for this ball...she had been to a few before...this time with someone she had taken actual interest in

[member="Aran Piett"]

 

[Jaron Lesan]

Jaron was a staunch suppoeter of the military. The tickets were more than he could afford, well if he didn't have access to the credits of his father's company. The Ren was never one to boast in what his father had established, but quietly collected his allowance and stored it away. He didn't need it, but for nights like this.

Formals were not something Jaron did well, but he stomached them for the cause. His idea of dressing up was a more flowing set of robes without his mask. It was rare his face was exposed for the public to see, but tonight it didn't make sense to wear the signature mask which made it obvious he was a Knight of Ren. Jaron assumed his robes would do that for him.

Much of his time had been working alone. Tonight he hoped to make a new friend or find something else entirely. He was introverted as of late, and of all his colleagues there was only one he knew well. It wasn't clear if she would be here tonight though. Jaron wanted to have fun, let his walls down, and that would require some liquid courage.

 

[Darth Prazutis]

Prosperia, Dosuun
Reimalai Opera House & Theater...

​Across the skies of Dosuun a dark shadow swept.

​The painted black hull of a Delta-Class JV-9 Escort Shuttle glistened in the lights as it moved low, sweeping down to the designated docking area of other arrivals for one such event.

​In the aftermath of the disastrous events at Kaeshana a ball in support of the illustrious military of the First Order was held, inviting distinguished individuals from across the vast expanse of the First Order to celebrate. When the invitation reached the King of Thule, Rattatak, the Arch-Prince of the Pacanth Reach he readily accepted it, and preparations were made, ready to enforce the alliance between his kingdoms, his home and the First Order. For this evening the Dark Lord chose a top of the line designer suit the latest in fashion today, tailored to his form no expense was spared in its design. The cost of his outfit was more than what most made in years, but such expenses were trivial to a monarch. A noticeable point on the suit was the right collar pin that held the symbol of the Panathan Empire, his home, the left collar held a pin that symbolized the Dual Monarchy of Thule and Rattatak.

​The King wore on his left ring ringer the signet ring bearing the cerulean phoenix of House Zambrano. As he descended upon the opera house arm in arm with was one [member="Braith Achlys"]. It had been a few weeks since her return to him after five long years of separation from someone he had grown so close to. In the time since their reunion it had been powerful, such a time apart meant that much time had been spent together, especially working towards the cure of the virulent cancer she worked to hold back. After so much time spent in his citadel on Thule when the chance to bring her to a ball, a chance to put to use his vast resources to treat her like she deserved to be treated came, he took it. The Dark Lord stood a wolf in sheeps clothing, a towering demon dressed in the attire of a noble, an undulating darkness surrounding his form signaling his arrival to those gifted in the force long before the pair even moved to the entrance of the grand opera house.

​As he walked to the entrance he moved as if he owned the very ground he walked on, his head held high while those luminous sulfuric eyes directed his piercing gaze at those around him. There were certain guests coming along under the friendly banner of House Zambrano that were known to him: [member="Darth Carnifex"], as well as his sister in death [member="Matsu Xiangu"] among the expected guests arriving. However for the moment it seemed that they were the first to arrive. "A welcomed change of pace from the labs. It's been too long since I've been to one of these events." ​Braxus said to her, as they entered the great structure.

​[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The Dark Lord of Panatha descended the ramp slightly behind [member="Darth Prazutis"], their combined aura conjuring a nexus of power and hate that sucked the warmth from the air to leave but nothing but the frigid chill of fear.

Like his uncle he too was decked out in a resplendent outfit, but unlike Prazutis Carnifex had deigned to adorn himself in a custom military outfit reminiscent of the older Imperial uniforms worn by the officers of the Galactic Empire eight hundred years ago. Black double-breasted dress tunic and trousers, leather gloves and durasteel-capped boots, and an ebony leather utility belt with a silver buckle was cinched around his waist. He wore no rank insignia, instead deigning to adorn his left breast with the peering Eye of Solomon; the ancient emblem of his House and the dark progenitor that sent his descendant down the path of Darkness.

His graying hair had been bound back in a warrior's ponytail, and his facial hair had been groomed into a manageable goatee that ended in a slicked point. He slightly adjusted the signet ring firmly slipped onto the ring-finger of his right hand as they neared the entrance, his lips pulling back in a contemptuous sneer. "Such pomp and circumstance. I fear these elites put too much emphasis on the complacency of privilege, Braxus, be on your guard."

 

[Darth Metus]

For a moment, Malok drank it in.

Away from prying eyes...away from the honored guests and staff...the Behemoth stood with his eyes closed. The gentle sound of piano notes graced his ears, as did the ebb and flow of quiet conversations. The air was thick with delicious scents - various colognes and perfumes adorned by the patrons. It took the Ma'alkerrite back. It made him remember the life he once had. Images of galas past rolled past his mind's eye, and each initially filled the ape-man with joy. Yet he recalled Sylok...

His fingers tightened momentarily.

"Commanda, the guests are comin." The faithful tone of Striok roused Malok from his thoughts. His eyes eased open and he faced his subordinate, who was motioning for him to enter the ballroom. Both simians, frankly, looked absurd - for they had managed to stuff their furry forms into lavish suits. Rentals. Yet, unlike the other guests, both Ma'alkerrites had a comm adorned in their ears and a sidearm veiled within their jackets' pockets. You see, when it came time for the military to relax and enjoy the company of comrades, it was the Auxiliary-Colonel who offered a service.

Malok, and by extension ApeX, would be providing security for the momentous occasion.

Thus would a plethora of finely-dressed ape-men and recently-recruited humans play the part of checking tickets, screening for arms, and general "securing" the event. As for Malok himself, rank had its privileges - so much so that he could enjoy the festivities until a dire situation arose. Stepping over to Striok, the Ma'alkerrite placed a hand on either of his shoulders before saying: "Alright Striok, tonight I want no kark ups. Stay sober. Stay focused. And keep your hands to yourself."

"Aw com off it Commanda, yew'no I win no trouble."

"I know you'll play grab ass with the wrong person and land us all executed. Or worse, unemployed."

Striok huffed.

"I won touch da ladies. Swear on me mum." Malok sighed. That oath would have to do for now. In short order did the two enter the ballroom before promptly splitting off. Striok...well...he saw a platter of champagne, whereas Malok saw a familiar pair of faces. The first was [member="Darth Prazutis"] - the man who was literally changing his life. The second was [member="Darth Carnifex"] - a literal God-King. With arms held open in greetings, the Ma'alkerrite approached.

"Your eminence, welcome." he began, before facing his Mentor. He rendered a nod of due respect to both men. "Good evening, Master."

[member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"]

 

[Aran Piett]

"I almost did, not going to lie I was and am a bit nervous. Do have to say you look stunning."​

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As they walk, Aran moves his arm out for Sara to hold on to. It was funny they both were in the same hotel, luckily it wasn't far from the opera hall. As they walked up the steps to the opera hall, it was glorious and spectacular.​

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"This building looks very grandiose, and posh. Does it not?"​

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Aran was in shock that something so simple, like a ball could be held in something so elegant, and posh. It was a bit of something Aran didn't see often behind the bridge of a Starship.​

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[member="Sara Lee Jones"]​

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

He fiddled with the wires, a multi-tool clenched in his teeth as he set the systems to right. His hand glanced a metal wire---

*ZZT!*

"AH, kark!" yelled Jarven.

"Master Zexxel, sir?" came a very polished voice from the ground below him. "Really, I must petition you to come down from there. Is it really worth all that time and trouble for a single camera, sir?"

Jarven whipped his hand back and forth, leaned back and grabbed the tool out of his mouth with his left hand. Turning in the strap, he looked down at the small butler figure from his 15 feet high vantage point above. He yelled down to him,

"Alfred, Alfred. A single camera can be the difference between to spotting a terrorist and losing our lovely hostess! You don't want that, Alfred!"

"W-well, of course not, sir! If you think it'll help..."

"Of course I think it'll help, Al! It's my job, after all. Hey, Al!?"

"Yes, sir?"

"How about you run and get me a drink? Might as well bring the whole bottle while you're at it!"

"Right away, sir!"

As Alfred quickly walked away, Jarven breathed a sigh of relief. Alfred, like so many of the other servants, was a loyal fellow and an honorable gentleman's gentleman. That also meant that he, like the others, were constantly in a state of worry about minute details.

__________________________________________________​

With a final twist of the multi-tool, he just had to snap the camera casing back into place and he was donezorino. Slipping the multi-tool into a pocket, he gripped the woodsman strap holding him up and starting scaling back down the pillar he was on. He was making steady progress when his shoes slipped and he skidded down the last five feet of the really nice pillar. He suffered little to no stress, but he suddenly became very distressed over the state of the pillar.

His shoes had left a pair of dark streaks down the side of the enameled pillar.

Alfred, of which had come around the corner with a bottle of fine drink at the conveniently wrong time, was the first to work himself into a tizzy. Before he could exclaim anything, however, Jarven's hand clapped over Alfred's mouth.

"No, no, no! Relax." He took his hand away from the wide-eyed Alfred, who was now dabbing his mouth with a handkerchief. A cold sweat started to break out on Jarven's forehead as he asked, "What drink is this?"

"Ryncol, sir."

"Ryncol, Ryncol, Ryncol..." mused Jarven to himself as he used his brain implant to research the chemical properties of Ryncol. It was a clear, bubbly liquid. It shared a certain property with some cleaner fluids, so he took the towel off of Alfred's arm, doused it a bit with Ryncol and started wiping away the streaks. Like a charm, the Ryncol-doused towel erased the rubber streaks.

With a sigh of relief, he soon looked balefully down at the bottle of Ryncol. He looked at Alfred and said,

"This is close to being a cleaner. Why are you bringing this for me to drink??"

"It was the best I could manage, sir. The rest of the good variety is under lock and key for the party."

That reminded Jarven to check the time. He looked down at his wrist and noted it was 15 'til showtime. He smoothed out his outfit, checked for any damage (and found none, thankfully) and walked off with Alfred.

"I hope no one suspects..." mused Jarven to Alfred as they hurried away to the next little nitpick to take care of.

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Meanwhile, as the Ryncol dried on the pillar, the enamel started drying to dust and crackling away in little tufts of pillar dust. Five feet of pillar length from the ground up made the pillar look wrinkled and cracked.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Prosperia,Dosaan​

Reimalai Opera House and Theatre. ​

It had been a few weeks following the Battle of Kaeshana, Kyrel was still suffering both physical and mentally. He had recently became a Knight of Ren, and despite of his new rank was still suffering. Despite that he had heard of the ball, and placed orders for two tickets for he and his date [member="Skylar Walker"]. He got ready with his black suit, and a cane with his prosthesis was still having trouble and so required a cane to limp around. He walked around getting the final touches in, he felt nervous as he would ready for the final touches. All he had to do was grab the tickets, and go pick up his apprentice. He grabbed the tickets, and was out the door in a few minutes.

He arrived at her place, and found her very beautiful although he wouldn't say. He just walked with her to the speeder and departed to where the ball was being held. The place looked to be a very grand structure, and he found it impressive. He tried to ignore the stares from many of the people attending and escorted his date inside. He walked slowly his arm locked within hers, eager to get a break after what he had gone through. So the disfigured Knight of Ren entered inside, as his speeder was taken care of.

Spoiler

Spoiler

 

[Ara Zambrano]

Music floated along the streets of Prosperia and brought a broad smile to the disciple's face. She stood outside the opera house, for once, slightly nervous about entering. Her dress was exquisite and tailored to a fit her slight frame perfectly, her hair straightened to hang almost to her waist. The auburn hair shone, bright red tints reflected in the lights of the city around them. Her make-up was flawless, a result of years spent honing and perfecting the art of looking good, and she knew it. Her traditional boots had been traded out for strappy heels that would be hell to run in if needed, and for the first time since joining the Ren, she was without a weapon.

Her hand rose unconsciously to the burn on her right shoulder, a trophy from her spar with [member="Connor Harrison"] that would forever mar the perfectly smooth skin. Instead of angering her, it brought pride as she ran a finger over the puckered skin. The mark was a symbol of a battle well fought, one she had held her own in, even if she'd taken a few hits along the way. It would be permanently etched on her skin, a reminder and a lesson she would never forget. For every scar she collected on this path, a new strength. For every moment of pain she experienced would bring new power.

Turning, Ara scowled at her friend, [member="Kaalia Voldaren"] , as she lagged behind, looking acutely uncomfortable in the gown Ara had picked and insisted her fellow disciple wear. She grinned broadly and linked arms with Kaalia, using her other hand to propel the girl forward and up the steps of the opera house. Ara had personally seen to her friend's hair and make-up and had to admit that the younger woman looked phenomenal. If Kaalia didn't dance with at least four different gentleman this evening, Ara would be immensely disappointed.

"You look beautiful, Kaalia. Stop hiding and enjoy the music! Besides, think of the well-dressed men we'll meet." She winked at the girl and continued dragging her reluctant companion towards the entrance.

She herself had plans to dance with as many cute men as possible. They were lacking for male company in the Ren and other than an....interesting run-in with the former Jedi, she was feeling mildly stir-crazy with the need for a good evening of well-intentioned and meaningless flirting. Well, it was only meaningless if you didn't get anything out of it, and with this many high-ranking officers from the order, something good would come out of this evening easily.

 

[Sara Lee Jones]

oh really huh? Well then least you know not to disappoint a girl

She hooked her arm to his, she gave a smile as they walked , she looked at the Opera hall as she gave a smirk, the first order never went simple it seemed with these balls

the first order never fails to impress at all that's for sure

She had been to at least two balls...both were just as fancy but to this one seemed tame...either way she was greatly impressed
[member="Aran Piett"]

 

[Skylar Walker]

This was Skylar's first time at a ball, first time dressing up, first time wearing makeup and first time wearing a dress. At this place everything she did was a first. She didn't know why she was nervous. Kyrel had asked her to be his date to the ball and she was overjoyed. She was surprised that he even asked her to such thing. With his new rank, becoming a Knight of Ren, she thought he'd be happier, but she guessed it was still because of what happened on Kaeshana. At least they owned the planet now.

Skylar was at her own place at this time and she was preparing for the ball. She felt so nervous, but she knew her outfit that she had planned was probably going to stand out in the crowd. She slipped on an evening gown that dragged on the floor. Skye had a droid to help her lace up the back and then she went to do her hair. It didn't take her too long and then she added a small pin on the back of her head and a tiara like headband to top it all off. She looked at herself in the mirror and a small smile was given. Her scars could be seen with this dress and that worried her slightly. But no matter, there was someone at her door, who she guessed to be Kyrel. Slipping on her shoes, she went and answered the door.

Seeing Kyrel, she gave a small smile as he then walked with her to the speeder and they took off to the ball. When they arrived, Skylar looked at the place with pure awe and amazement of the structure. It almost seemed to glow with the warm light coming from inside. When Kyrel offered her his arm, she took it gently and despite being the first time in heels, she walked gracefully with her head held high as Kyrel escorted her inside. She was very proud to be here and curiosity flooded her mind.

As they walked in, many many eyes were looking towards the two. Whether it was Skylar's dress or Kyrel himself, she walked on with such a grace you'd almost think she was royalty. She could tell already that she stood out among the crowd. Her dress was custom made and it's train trailed behind her like flames.

This was definitely going to be nice, getting to relax after all of the worry that they had dealt with in the past few weeks. Until now, they hadn't caught one break yet.

~ [member="Kyrel Ren"] ~​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Hector sat across from [member="Natasi Fortan"] in the back seat of her armored limousine speeder, studying her while trying to look like he wasn't studying her. She looked like a confection in a blue silk evening gown, and something about the modest cut of her neckline -- straight across from shoulder to shoulder, with little silver scallops in waves -- made the suggestion of what lay beneath all the more enticing. Henry could only pretend at mild interest; all was falling into position, and from his airplane seat he thought that it was going to be worth the wait -- well worth the wait. But she was busy -- like she always was -- going over government papers of some form or another.

The sirens turned off, announcing that they were approaching their destination, and the Grand Moff began packing up her papers. Henry leaned over and looked out the window as it slowed in front of the opera house, then settled back into his seat. A moment later, the car stopped and one of the horsemen leapt out of the front seat and moved to open the door. Natasi stepped out of the car first, raising an arm to wave at the citizens and reporters that lined the avenue behind the car, then stepped aside as Henry stepped out behind her and offered his arm. She hesitated before taking it, then they walked down the red carpet towards the entrance. The reporters lining this walkway were from the State Media and their supported mouthpieces, hence their allowed proximity to the entrance of the dignitaries.

Henry was in a classic tuxedo -- couldn't go wrong there, could he? -- but he was an object of intense curiosity either way. The Grand Moff had not been seen publicly with a man since [member="Darell Irani"], so the mystery man was something to be uncovered. He kept himself quiet, though, and concentrated on looking devastatingly handsome and smiling enigmatically. Natasi would handle the questions, he knew.

 

[Pharazon Draken]

Prosperia
En route to the Reimalai Opera House and Theatre

[SIZE=11pt]Pharazon Draken stood in his undergarments in front of his mirror within his assigned quarters in a barracks located inside Prosperia. He was preparing to dress himself with his finest dress uniform, the finest piece of clothing he actually owned given that at the current time he believed he only had a single set of civilian clothes and they were decidedly not appropriate for this grand benefit. However, he was still staring at the rather ghastly scar that now adorned his [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]subjectively[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] noble and attractive Hapan features. He was struggling to decide how he felt about it, in one way it was simply a mark of his combat experience which may entitle him to some favourable treatment and recognition at this coming Wounded Veterans and Memorial Fund benefit. However, though he despised Hapes and most of what comprised Hapan culture, he had been raised in it and still had many cultural and social rules deeply embedded in his being and personality. He still considered himself Hapan despite his misgivings. As such, this horrific scar has shamefully marred his [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]chiselled[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] and smooth features and shattered his once noble and regal face. He felt sick to his stomach looking at it, as it was still quite fresh and reddish pink on his face, just as he grimly stared and prodded at each and every other scar that marked his [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]statuesque and[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] powerful body. His two new cybernetic fingers on his left hand, however, had taken the most getting used to. He had decided to wear black leather gloves to cover his left hand and on his right to not seem out of place. He did not care that his left ring and little fingers felt real, he knew they were not.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He had mostly recovered from his rather large and in some cases life threatening injuries sustained in the fighting on Kaeshana and the annexation of Rakata Beta. He had been submerged in a bacta tank for quite some time after his transport from the surface on Kaeshana to a military hospital on Dosuun after the return of the expeditionary forces. He had only come out of it in the past few days and was glad to find that every single one of his injuries had fully healed and he was deemed fully combat and active duty ready. However, it was also the time that he found that he would have to live with extensive scarring to his face and body given how long it took for him to be properly treated unless he could pay for expensive cosmetic procedures to remove them. At least he had been able to finally clean and himself properly regularly now that he was off combat deployment for the time being.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Yet, those were concerns for another day as Pharazon shook his head and looked away from the mirror in his room to begin dressing himself in his new captain's dress uniform. As a stormtrooper officer, Pharazon’s uniform was likely not as magnificent or stylish as the dress uniforms of the First Imperial Navy nor could it likely compare to the opulent suits, robes, and dresses that the nobles and other well to do people of the First Order would be wearing to this event. However, it was his badge of pride and honour as a stormtrooper as well as being a quite dashing uniform besides the cap, and if he was told he was improperly dressed for the occassion because of it then so be it. Besides, he also had no desire to go and try to attempt to discern what in the galaxy the fashion trends in male clothing were on this planet at this time of year or for this event. Pharazon carefully pulled on his black uniform breeches and slid his arms into his also black uniform tunic with a First Order insignia patch on its upper left arm, both of which had been perfectly cleaned and pressed for the occasion. He fastened his black leather dress belt to his waist and clasped it with its polished square buckle plate embossed with the symbol of the First Order. He then pulled on his black knee high jackboots, slid on his silver edged cuff title onto his left sleeve bearing the [/SIZE]aurebesh sur[SIZE=11pt]name of the ancient Imperial hero and idol of Pharazon, Maximillian Veers, and applied his Captain’s insignia and other elements to his rank bar and where needed on his uniform. He checked his face and hair one last time, and then finally slipped on his gloves and placed his rather odd looking dress cap upon his head, at least his dress uniform was not the same drab light grey of his standard uniform.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Looking himself over one more time Pharazon nodded slightly to himself, the visage of an intimidating but still dashing, if slightly rakish on account of his scar, Stormtrooper Captain fresh from the front lines was complete. Rather impressive and imposing if he did say so himself. It was odd wearing captain’s insignia though, he had been quite surprised when he was informed that he had been promoted while he was still undergoing medical treatment with copious amounts of painkillers flowing through him, though it felt odd knowing that he had taken Captain Oskar Vortigern’s place as commanding officer of the Company. Though, he supposed after losing both of his legs he was not surprised that Vortigern had put in for a transfer to a non-combat position within command. Pharazon and the men were sad to see him go but Vortigern had his family to contend with and consider. He still wrote to Pharazon, writing great letters, essays, and guides on the finer details of command that Pharazon greatly appreciated. He would see him again.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Pharazon then made his way from his room and walked out from the barracks out onto the streets of the beautiful city of Prosperia. He had decided to walk the distance to the Reimalai Opera House & Theater to clear his head and compose himself before arriving. He liked the exercise and the chance to stretch his limbs and as he had no date to accompany him he did not need to worry about inconveniencing anyone else. Come to think of it, Pharazon mused, he actually knew very few women in the First Order outside of the military and his operations with it, and fewer still on any kind of non-professional level. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He had some hope of potentially finding some female company during the event itself, but he was not overly [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]optimistic[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]. He also felt ashamed of his appearance due to his scar and subconsciously assumed he would be shunned by the impressive and well to do ladies of Prosperia.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He enjoyed the brisk fresh air and the sights, sounds, and lights of the city. Indeed, all he needed to do was follow the sounds of music and he could reach his destination, however, Pharazon had already memorized quite an amount of the city map in order to easily find his way around so he needed no lilting on the wind hints.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]As he walked, he wondered what the rest of his men from his previous command of 4th Platoon were doing. Pharazon had invited several of the Sergeants including Sergeant Cain to go, but several declined as they did not feel up to the movement required, Cain wished to stay with Sandalphon and the other wounded, and he suspected the rest of the platoon were planning on congregating in Prosperia’s various dens of iniquity for the evening and possibly the night. They certainly do deserve some free time… [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Pharazon thought, understanding their desires after all they had been through over the past month. The other platoons now under his command were also doing the same from all reports his Lieutenants had given him. He may see some of his Lieutenants there but they were not travelling as a party.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]As Pharazon closed in on the entrance, he steeled himself for what was about to occur. Growing up on Hapes he had been forced to stay in the shadows and out of the way of many a grand social occasion. However, his time being ignored had taught him how to listen and pick up on various social conventions and the principles of recognising body language and what to consider when interpreting the words of another. He knew occasions like this were often hotbeds of intrigue and social gossip, Pharazon could only hope he could avoid being pulled into the petty politicking of high society. He was afterall a recently wounded veteran and it was supposed to be about him Pharazon thought [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]wryly[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt].[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]As he entered the grand building along with throngs of gentry, those of high society, and other military guests Pharazon was immediately taken back to the memories of wealth and opulence of Hapes. The building was astonishing, the suits and dresses breathtaking, the music sublime.He presented an air of discipline and authority among these civilians and it aided him in making his way through the crowds, few wanted to stay in the way of a stormtrooper captain. Dispensing with his cap to a staff member to store it properly, Pharazon made his way through the doors of the opera house toward those checking names and invitations with great and purposive strides of his great legs. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I am Captain Pharazon Draken of the 189th Grenadier Company, Stormtrooper Corps, I do hope I am expected” Pharazon said firmly yet slightly wryly, a hint of serpentine cunning evident in his voice and his piercing emerald eyes. Also, as he talked it appeared that his facial scar would permanently give his expressions an imposing and grim quality.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]This presents intriguing possibilities... Pharazon chuckled internally as he was waved through into the seemingly actual greeting area within the opera house.[/SIZE]

 

[Hansen]

Joan Lunor
Reimalai Opera House and Theatre

Joan's figure is sheathed in a lightly pressed black gabardine twill stormtrooper officer coat and trousers with a long-sleeved white undershirt beneath the coat. A matching black cap straddles her golden crown with the First Order cockade displayed above the visor. Just beneath each shoulder is the First Order's roundel proudly displayed. Above left-elbow is a red armband with the First Order's coat of arms machine embroidered in a rich black that matches her uniform against the crimson fabric. A leather belt is wrapped around Joan's waist with a single lacquered strap reaching over right shoulder beneath the Captain's shoulder board. Joan placed minimal amounts of cosmetic on for this evening so as to conform to First Order Military grooming specifications. Joan's feet rest in a pair of shin-high hobnailed leather boots with hands finding sanctuary in a pair of leather gloves. These slight indulgences were supposed to distinguish her as an officer to other First Order Military personnel and convey an outward prestige to civilians. Joan in complete silence passes through the doors of the Opera House, confronted with a Civilian holding a holopad. Joan speaks with confidence albeit respect. "My name is Captain Lunor, I received an invitation to this event." After receiving a nod from the middle-aged man, Joan passes him and accidentally slams into an officer dress similarly to herself. "My apologies, Sir." Joan says without so much as offering the man a glance. Blue eyes look around somewhat confused on what she is supposed to do now. What did an aristocrat or government minister do at these balls? Although she couldn't help but quickly develop an appreciation for the music.

[member="Pharazon Draken"]

 

[Zmej Ren]

​

Tonight, Zmej Ren did not exist, becoming a mere legend to plague the galaxy.

Instead of a heavily armed and armoured assassin ready to battle, there was a petite woman dressed in red, vulnerable, feeling practically naked without several layers of robes, plates of armour and an expressionless mask to hide her face. Asenath Parnell, daughter of a decorated hero, just your ordinary orphan like so many others. Even the sickly yellow eyes normally burning with hate have been extinguished, now displaying a cool, greyish hue. Without having a set of orders, enemies to eliminate, there was great anxiety raging within the seemingly calm and collected girl – she was out of her element, outside of a mission, facing a situation her training did not prepare her for. Appearances could be deceiving though, as the seemingly harmless creature possessed a small hold-out blaster concealed underneath her gown. Under no circumstances would she ever consider the possibility of coming unarmed, as the seemingly insignificant weight strapped to her pale thigh offered a massive boost in confidence.

Deep breaths.

The opera house looked like a monster ready to swallow its victim; big, loud, flashing lights in every direction. Although Asenath sincerely enjoyed the music, knowing she would be surrounded by people and the goal was nothing else than socialization was enough to keep her outside for some time, finding relief in the cool, evening air. Several other guests continued to linger in front of the towering opera house as well and Zmej found herself in a deep, focused study of each, evaluating if the men and women posed a threat to the event – and only after reminding herself she was here as a guest did Asenath manage to suppress the urge to investigate further. Just a guest hoping to enjoy herself, let the galaxy do its own thing for a few hours. That was the reasoning when she bought a ticket. Maybe, just maybe, the blonde wished to meet someone, subconsciously yearning for interaction. Finally, she put an end to delaying this any further, taking a few uncertain steps towards the entrance. High heeled shoes – quite a change from combat boots and not one she would ever consider voluntarily. Fortunately enough, the nimble human displayed enough grace and elegance to hide the slight uncertainty creeping into every step.

A shy, sheepish nod went the guard’s way as she handed over the ticket and entered.

Music and smell characteristic to such places and occasions were the first to greet her. A brief stop in her way forth, getting accustomed for tonight’s role, and a charming, pleasant smile curled her lips. She wanted to impress, after all – even though she had yet to find a man to make her company. With ladylike moves, strictly conservative – something that must have survived in her since early childhood – Asenath Parnell strode past several waiters and beings she did not know and found uninteresting. Slipping into a new role came naturally, much to Zmej’s surprise. Then again, she's been trained for this - wearing another's skin, pretending to be a different being. Not many would recognize Zmej for the deadly viper she was.

Now to find an ideal dancing partner for tonight.