First Order: A Rose In Her Hand

[Valessia Brentioch]

Prosperia, Dosuun​

The Rosamund Hotel​

Inveraray Ballroom​

​

The Rosamund Hotel was among the finest within Prosperia, no it was, the finest. And there could only be one Rosamund Hotel, although the owners were in process of building the Violet Hotel in Avalonia and the Violet was noted to be one of their grandest hotels yet. Until then, however, the Rosamund stood proudly within downtown Prosperia. Tonight's event had taken up the largest ballroom that the Rosamund had to offer, the Inveraray and tonight it would play host to the First Order's Military Ball. An event that had been organized by trade representative Valessia Brentioch on behalf her Grand Moff Natasi Fortan. Valessia had chosen Prosperia because of the distance from Avalonia and to help bring more business into the second city of the First Order, Prosperia had recently won a contract to begin construction for land vehicles for the First Order, tanks, anti-orbital, mobile planetary shields.

The Military Ball was to help pay for it, while she and the Grand Moff had a disagreement on how to pay the bills, both agreed that the bill would need to be paid, somehow. So what better way than to get some companies interested in investing in the project as the celebrate the First Order's most recent military conquests.

Valessia would be playing hostess tonight, and greeted the members of the First Order as they arrived. She greeted some of the same representatives she had met during the Economic Summit that had been organized by the then Moff Fortan. The Inveraray was down to the right as the Highclere was closed off to the First Order, for now. Descending down the set of steps, the trade representative greeted the hotel manager, "thank you, Miss Hughes, you have a splendid ballroom here."

"Thank you m'lady, but with credit, I was not alone in this," she gestured to her staff.

The scion nodded and thanked them all, "this looks marvelous and I see the band is already playing, fantastic, and you have your men at the front ready to register any non-First Order members, correct? And the raffle prizes are in the Highclere?"

"Yes we're moving them there now, m'lady," the woman confirmed.

The brunette walked into the ballroom and then turned to Miss Hughes, "I shouldn't take any more of your time, thank you again."

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9gZ-GAlgIB8[/media]​

​

[member="Asharad Graush"] | [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"] | [member="Marzena Choi"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Sioux Chambers"] | [member="Ludolf Vaas"] | [member="Darell Irani"] | [member="Pierce Fortan III"] | [member="Ranulph Tarkin"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Val Kordova"] | [member="Nils Brenner"] | [member="Dunames Lopez"] | First Order Members (tag yourself)​

 

[Sara Lee Jones]

A ball
Not even a few weeks in and she was at a military ball
She wasn't complaining she just wasn't used to balls or party's and stuff like that ....felt odd then again it got her out and about to socialize rather then be stuck fixing fighters up

So she entered signing in her name, dressed in her military dress collar fixed perfectly dress crisp and cleaned through she hated how tight they were but nevertheless she was dressed and ready to see how the night would go

She made her way over to the drink tabke...plenty to drink it seemed ranging for water to different types of alcohol....she settled for a light wine and sighed as she watcged the people enter...let the party begin

[member="Rolf Amsel"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Kyle Amedia preferred the snug fit of the First Order Stormtrooper armour than the black high collard military uniform he wore when not acting as the fist of the military in battle.

Still, this was his return to the Order and society after a rather prolonged leave of absence to recover from his injuries sustained in the line of duty. As he walked, alone, along the drive to the Rosamund, he held his hands behind his back and inhaled the fresh evening air. These sort of events weren't always at the to of his social calendar, but he knew he had to show face and get back into the established ranks of the First Order, or he may as well go back to the shadows and become a faceless soldier. He didn't want that. Kyle had signed up to be more than just a symbol; he was going to be something more. A legend.

A host snapped him out of his daydream and he gave his name, clearing that he had paid for admission and a number of tickets for the raffle; thankfully his pay from the Chiss bodyguard job was still tucked away and paying for these little luxuries. He started to think if he'd meet familiar faces from the past, or new ones of the future.

He strolled up the steps and let the noise, sights and smell great him as people mingled, music played and the might of the First Order came together that was sure to be an eventful night.

If not, he would slip away into the night.

[member="Valessia Brentioch"] | [member="Sara Lee Jones"] | [member="Asharad Graush"] | [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"] | [member="Marzena Choi"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Sioux Chambers"] | [member="Ludolf Vaas"] | [member="Darell Irani"] | [member="Pierce Fortan III"] | [member="Ranulph Tarkin"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Val Kordova"] | [member="Nils Brenner"] | [member="Dunames Lopez"] |

 

[William Kerkov Sr]

The Grand Admiral smiled as he walked into the ball, accompanied by his wife of over thirty years, Siata, a pink skinned twi-lek. He wore choker whites while she in turn wore a lightly colored dress, what you would imagine a senior officer and his spouse would look. The guards snapped a salute, knowing Kerkov as one of the two Grand Admirals of the First Imperial Navy. He need not sign in, and he was uninterested in the raffle, not something all too becoming of an officer, besides he didn't need any prize, he was wealthy enough to go without it. It seemed the party was just starting up, and he was ready to go find people to talk too.

The Admiral took a cigara out from beneath his uniform breast pocket, his wife rolled her eyes, "You shouldn't smoke those William." He gave her a look of similar nature, "I've had a long day, I believe I deserve this" The Twi'lek woman turned to him, looking straight into his eyes, "You know what I mean Will, those cigaras are very detrimental to your health, if you ever want to see grandchildren, you should stop smoking now." Kerkov shrugged it off as he lit the smoking device, "I'll cut down on smoking, is that ok honey?" She sighed and nodded, compromise would be the closest she;d get to him quitting. At his age he had very little care for health inhibitors, and such his wife's worries also had little priority in Kerkov's list of important tasks.

The two began to converse with others when the Grand Admiral saw the open bar, he tapped his wife's shoulder and whispered in her ear, "I'll be heading over to the bar and get a drink, do you want anything?" She simply shook her head and went back to talking to an acquaintance of hers. The officer walked briskly to the bar and ordered some Terminusian whiskey, i home planet drink. It tasted like starship oil but it felt like home. This ball was just getting started and he hoped it would be a success, any good military ball should.

[member="Kyle Amedis"] | [member="Sara Lee Jones"] | [member="Valessia Brentioch"]

 

[Darth Seraphic]

Even though he had recently been spending time in First Order space, and was there meeting on Commenor, Crucifere was not what one would call an employee of the group. A loyal supporter would be a better title for the Sith Lord, a very loyal supporter. He absolutely agreed with the governments of the First Order, it was the Order of Ren he did not know if he still strongly supported or not. What little he had learned from [member="Viktor DuSang"] had left him with very little information on the order, and this made them something of a mystery still to the dark master. When at first, though, he had made the notion that the First Order was without disciple from his very first interaction with them, the disciple had changed that concept all around, and greatly brightened his opinion on them. That, and the Grand Moff, [member="Natasi Fortan"]'s beauty had caught his eye. He wondered if he would get a glimpse of it once more at this Military Ball.

As he walked up to the front of the hotel in his black vest and red dress shirt, he was stopped and asked for his name. A smirk came over his thin lips as he spoke. "You will not find my name on there. Crucifere Sin. Also, here is for getting in." Sin handed the clerk a credit chip worth ten thousand. Extra funding was always needed, and Sin wanted to be generous in his funding the First Order anyway possible. The clerk nodded, and cleared him access to the Ball. Returning the nod, the Vahla began to walk inside as already the sound of music approached his ears and causing them to perk up. Sounded like some kind of swing music. He approved. Crucifere placed his hands in his pockets as he went further in, taking in the luxurious look of the hotel. He had to admit, he was greatly impressed. Here on his own account, he did not let [member="Lady Kay"] know he was attending, even unsure if she would attend. Probably not, he knew her well enough that the First Order, as much as she had been kind to them, were not her idea of government. For the most part, imperialism was frowned upon in most parts of the galaxy anyways, so no surprise there.

[member="William Kerkov"]
[member="Kyle Amedis"]
[member="Sara Lee Jones"]
[member="Valessia Brentioch"]

 

[Garza]

A ball.

Of all things you would ever see me in, this was not one of them. Not a lot of people knew me, and that was for good reason. I liked leaving people guessing. It allowed me an advantage in many places. As well as here. Politically, I supported the First Order. Honestly, it was just because they were paying my fuel bill. There were various reasons why I didn't want to come. I'd rather fight a dozen Rancor than be stuck dancing with people I had no clue about. To be correct, knew little to nothing about. Various people here had many positions of power. Obvious Moffs were in attendance. Including the man who was a known rival of my previous Master Imura.

However, I didn't feel like pointing that out to the man as he gave a large sum of credits to the lady at the front. I stood there in my normal garb. I wasn't anyone special among these people. No need for me to dress up and expose my hair. Hell, most of the people here were humans, or some form of Near-human that wasn't disrespected within the Order. I, a Hellyni, would be very easy to tell apart from baseline humans due to my height, size, and overall appearance. No disputes tonight for me.

I was here for information. Learn who I may or may not be working with. See who was a viable leader, who I could maybe lean on for support, and who I could prod and push to bend a little under my pressure. I smiled slightly as I could feel the various emotions of people around me. Excitement, dull boredom, seething jealousy, nervousness, and even a little hint of pride. Sure, it was a banquet to show off the military prowess they had, and to celebrate in victory. Doesn't mean I need to drink and partake.

I came just because I could. hence why I had to pay the 2 grand worth of credits. I will have to wait the night out to see if it was a waste or not.

[member="Crucifere Sin"], [member="William Kerkov"], [member="Kyle Amedis"], [member="Sara Lee Jones"] [member="Valessia Brentioch"],

 

[Coffeeccubus]

Now this was interesting.

Considering the fact that she would be spending time trying to ensure her illegal dealings were meant to be kept away and secret, she would end up appearing here. How peculiar. The middle aged nevertheless dressed as she would usually dress, in the traditional clothes of her people, which was Victorian-age-like clothing, preferably red, since it was the color of action. She was pretty quiet in the First Order, though now, it was time she revealed herself towards them. Charlotte was not the one who was really open to starting a conversation, rather, more quiet and reserved. Preferring people coming to her first before anyone else. She looked on at the others whom were there. Nice set of chaps and chappetes indeed. Hmm.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Star Tours was a middleman for the First Order schemes, and she knew it better than anyone else. Logistical Command was satisfied with the operational performance of Star Tours. But many among the First Order knew that it was gaining more and more involvement in the faction's bread-and-circuses system. Alpine skiing, podracing, and soon holovids. Dunames' megalomaniac tendencies didn't stop her in her desires to operate in as many areas of business as she could based on her business, knowing nevertheless that she was a person with no desire to have Star Tours manufacture implements of destruction. All too many manufacturers were on the market for that. She attended the ball at the invitation of Logistical Command for her services on Yalara, Effekt, as well as on Virsun (and Thakwaa before that; Hoth was under the Ministry of Transportation instead). Dunames wore a blue dress covered with rhinestones...

"Where are those people from Logistical Command? They promised and paid for my ticket here! I've never gotten around to try and get a contract to deliver the First Order's bacta from Verkuyl"

[member="Crucifere Sin"] [member="William Kerkov"] [member="Kyle Amedis"] [member="Sara Lee Jones"] [member="Valessia Brentioch"]

 

[Progflaw99]

Scotch. Never was there a good party without it. Well, that wasn't strictly true, but since the booze was on the house this evening he couldn't resist. He wasn't one to drink in excess, at least not in public. Around his men, at the local dive, sure. At this event, no. Rolf had arrived alone, none of the other men from his squad felt the need to "Socialize" with the so called upper class and had remained behind, instead opting to spend some of their down time trying to pick up dates at a dive across town. He'd brought his commlink, in case they decided to get into trouble but he feverishly hope that they would refrain from starting anything. It wouldn't look good on him otherwise. Truthfully, Rolf wasn't a socialite by nature but he did see that having connections definitely had its advantages. Doing a quick survey of the room, he noticed a few people milling about, none particularly recognizable but then again, Rolf spent more time in the dirt and weeds than many of these people. That being said, he didn't clean up poorly, or so he'd been told.

While he hadn't recognized many of the people in attendance, he did recall a few by name and rank. In the Command HQ building there was an entire wall dedicated to the chain of command from the bottom up. Picking out a few of the faces and names, he politely greeted several groups of milling attendees before casually retreating towards one of the bars. With a quick tilt of the glass he finished the small amount of scotch remaining, setting his glass down delicately on the bar-top.

"I'll have a scotch, no rocks."

He gave a grateful look as the attendant poured the glass, the corners of his lips sneaking upwards into a smile. He could say one thing at least about these social events, they provided choice liquor. He really wanted a smoke, but he had just arrived. Likely it would be bad form to excuse himself so early, especially for something so menial as a cigarette. Nodding as the attendant slid his glass over slightly, he retrieved it, leaving a few credits in return. He knew the alcohol was free for members of the First Order military but it was proper etiquette to tip your server be it food, liquor... or other things.

"Thank you kindly." Rolf said as he turned.

Letting a sigh escape, Rolf caught a reflection of himself in a mirror on the wall, taking a moment to admire the crisp uniform he'd prepared for the evening. It was the standard for the First Order, his Sergeant Rank displayed proudly on his uniform as well as a small stack of ribbons. Nothing major, but he wore them nonetheless. He'd been meticulous about his preparation for the evening, taking a small lighter to his uniform, burning away stray strands of fabric, using a small metal ruler to perfectly align his ribbons and awards. In addition he'd spent over an hour shining his boots and other metal accouterments on his uniform. If nothing more could be said about the man, he would look as if he were the perfect example of a First Order soldier. He'd gone all in, haircut, shave, even stopped by the chiropractor; his appearance had to be immaculate. Not only was he representing himself, but he was also representing the First Order and specifically, his unit.

He wandered the floor for a minute before saddling up to a nearby wall, content to observe and watch the guests as they arrived. He noticed several others with the same idea, giving them a silent nod and a tip of his glass in greeting. He wasn't the only one coming to this event alone it seemed. And so there he stood, sipping on the glass of scotch, enjoying the light music and enjoying the scenery. Not only the people in the room but the building the event was hosted in was beautiful, one of the most elegant he'd ever seen. He was content, for the moment, to bask in the ambiance of the event and enjoy his scotch.

[member="Valessia Brentioch"] | [member="Sara Lee Jones"] | [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"] | [member="Asharad Graush"]​

 

[Jaron Lesan]

Jaron was rarely the kind to attend an event such as this but since he had returned he was wanting to show face for the First Order. He'd been one to spend time in the frivolous pursuits of female companionship, but those attempts had left him burned, spurned, and rejected. The knight was not there to find some kind of romantic attachment, but one never knew what was in store. His mind was not open, but it was not closed either. Jaron found it best to approach life with that kind of attitude.

The hall itself was exquisite and he felt under dressed. He was wearing the robes that a Ren should wear. The military would be seen in uniform, some of the women in elegant gowns, but this was an atmosphere which was foreign to the dark leaning Jedi. Yes, there were sometimes when he considered himself to be a Jedi, but he hated the fact they had not been able to stop Corellia form being destroyed. Jaron beleived the First Order could. They were willing to do what the Jedi would not, and as a result they had earned his loyalty.

He found the bar to be open, and while not military, he did not care. A glass of wine was offered to him, to which he nodded as he accepted it. The fruity earthy flavored liquid slid down his throat rather smoothly as the the contents of the glass passed by his lips. Jaron stood alone, observing. For any who did not know better he seemed to look like the awkward teenager not wanting to dance, but wanting to dance. He truly felt out of his element.

 

[Progflaw99]

To be honest, Valerie had never thought she'd have to show up in an official capacity... boy was she wrong. As an FOSB field agent, she was mostly free to do as she pleased... but that didn't mean she was free. At first she had loathed the idea of attending a military ball. In all technicality, she was assigned to one of the largest of the First Order's many legions, her job? Supply. It was a cover for what her real duty was, and one that was easily hidden in the shadows of the inner workings. The unit she was assigned to knew she'd never show up, but she always appeared on their rosters, and even got assigned mess duty, whether or not there was a body actually there. It had been an arrangement made by the FOSB and one could only assume it wasn't the only unit to be harboring a "ghost" member. As she found out more about the event, it became apparent the reason she'd been assigned... to gather intelligence. Not only First Order citizens would be attending if all went well, and it was unofficially her job to ingest as much information about anything and everything that she could. She wasn't new to the game, but she hadn't developed her networks effectively yet and that was the other purpose for her attending.

Her cover was one she'd spent a hefty time developing, in fact she'd taken one of her hobbies and poured it into her cover, melding the lines on where she truly ended and the cover began. Ellara Vendaris. She was a citizen of the First Order, a fashion designer if it could be believed. Her choice in attire for the evening certainly spoke to her chosen occupation. She wore a black lace dress with a dark satin slip beneath, elegant black gloves covering her hands and forearms. She'd dyed her hair, a light blonde hue with streaks of dark. Around her right wrist were pearls, fished from one of the many oceans on the surface of Dosuun. On each of her pinky fingers she wore a dark gem embedded in a silver ring. Her ears were adorned with silver hoop earrings, a thin veil worn with a cocktail hat atop her head, woven intricately to her hair. It too was black. She wasn't one of the first to arrive, but she certainly wasn't late. She wasn't much one for liquor, Ellara found it dulled her senses and in certain situations, that could be a serious handicap. Despite that, she recognized it was often necessary to keep up appearances, and so she indulged, nimbly snatching a thin glass of wine as it went by. This would do, now to mingle...

She stepped off into the crowd, a welcoming smile lighting up her face.

[member="Jaron Lesan"] | [member="Charlotte Miraak"] | [member="Atheus"] | [member="Crucifere Sin"] | [member="William Kerkov"] | [member="Kyle Amedis"] | [member="Valessia Brentioch"]​

 

[Sara Lee Jones]

She watched several people greet others and mingle as she sat back at the bar and sipped her wine...wasn't her thing she saw several handsome people but none that caught her interest at all....was she prude maybe? No simply just reserved it's how she has been all her life

She watched a few come to the bar and nodded as she looked forward before she gave a sigh to herself and turned to [member="Rolf Amsel"] to look him over...crisp...perfect...he looked right out of a recruitment poster..handsome as well

Next was a ren...odd folk seemed this one came dressed in their usual garb...she didn't quite think anything of them she's seen them or heard of them...never really truly met a ren before....

Now she couldn't decide who should she talk to...the Sergeant or ren...or both?....

She gave a huff and turned to theat Sergeant as she gave a kind smile "not a bad party huh?"she said, she bore the pilot officer rank displayed nicely on her uniform"names Sara Lee Jones what's your name Sergeant sir"she said sipping her wine

[member="Jaron Lesan"][member="Rolf Amsel"][member="Charlotte Miraak"]@Atheus@Crucifere Sin[member="Kyle Amedis"]

 

[Dunames Lopez]

After finally locating one of the people in Logistical Command, Dunames decided to reach for the bar. Hopefully Dunames won't drink scotch the way Anastasia did back on Bespin. But she ordered scotch on the rocks because she feels that alcohol served cold would be much better than to be served hot, or even at room temperature. She makes herself comfortable even though she knew she had seen that face somewhere not long ago, albeit not face-to-face. There wasn't a whole lot she could actually do. She needed to remember who that was. As she got ready to place her order to the barman, she was visibly nervous, because she knew what would happen if she drank the way Anastasia did back on Bespin. She was far from being one of the best drinkers in the galaxy and she'd rather not drink more than one scotch at any one time, and, on the rocks, the ice would melt and make the alcohol a little less concentrated.

"One serving of scotch on the rocks please..."

"Alcohol makes you look so much better, Dunames. Don't you agree?" Ulduar told Dunames.

"Ulduar? I'd never think you would show your face here!"

"Don't worry about that: the Finalizer is in orbit over Dosuun"

[member="Sara Lee Jones"] [member="Val Kordova"] [member="Jaron Lesan"] [member="Rolf Amsel"] [member="Charlotte Miraak"] @Atheus @William Kerkov [member="Kyle Amedis"]

 

[Darth Caecus]

3 Hours Previous

In 500 years, some things hadn't changed. The galaxy turned, fueled by violence and greed. Soldiers died for governments that forgot them within the year. Sith and Jedi fought like angry cats, with a lot of self absorbed preening after the fact.

And Zee didn't know how to pick out a dress.

She had clear memories of Razor, always fabulous Razor, helping her for every formal function. Even when she had been the Director of the ISB, he'd been there, then part of her personal guard- and, as always, holding her hand through this one tradition that just never seemed to stick.

No. Not her. Xyra Sizhran. She wasn't that women. Yes, she had her memories, but she wasn't her. She looked down at her hands. They looked like she remembered they always had. But they weren't the same hands. Since awakening in that frozen facility on Arkania, the clone had been struggling with the weight of the history laided squarely on her shoulders. She remembered everything, every act, as though she had done them herself. But it hadn't been her.

Was she a monster? She didn't know yet. It seemed likely. But there was a small chance, however miniscule, that maybe, she didn't have to be.

Which brought them here, getting ready for a charity event being hosted by the First Order (of whom Zee knew little enough, she was still coming to grips with too many changes over five centuries). Not moving too far out of her comfort zone, she had decided that donating to their Military Memorial fund was a perfect thing to try. Something very.... not monstrous. Maybe even good. She wasn't entirely sure. But she had discovered certain accounts were still intact- miraculous, but then, so was her existence here at all. And after 500 years accruing interest, Zee had a fairly extensive pool to draw from.

But it turned out the donation had come with a pair of tickets. She'd looked at them, nonplussed and intending on throwing them out until [member="Cait Falcor"] had practically squealed in her ear in excitement.

So of course, they were going.

She turned in front of a mirror, frowning slightly. Oh, not at the navy blue dress Cait had picked for her. But because-

"Are you *sure* I can't wear the thigh holster?"

"No, you can't. It'll ruin the line of the dress."

Zee sighed.

*****

The Rosamund Hotel

"Zee Es and Cait Falcor? Yes, we have you on our list. Please, sign here. And allow me to say thank you Miss Es for the generous donation. Welcome and please, have a pleasant evening."

The pair swept in to the entry hall and even Zee had to pause for a moment.

"Oh, wow."

 

[Avicus DuSang]

[member="William Kerkov"] stepped up to the bar, Fleet Admiral Avicus DuSang being in the spot beside him. Spotting the man, the Sith Lord put his drink down, giving him a stiff salute. "Grand Admiral Kerkov." he said in a respectful tone. He had been enjoying his tenure in the First Order Navy. His officers were competent and his soldiers were loyal. In many aspects, the First Order was the Empire that he had strived for centuries ago. Had he put down the bottle long enough, perhaps things would've been different.

But that was ancient history. The Galaxy kept spinning, and over time, his name had been but a whisper among the Sith. The Galaxy had forgotten him, and part of him was thankful for that. Not his ego, mind you. That was the part that hated his name forgotten. But, alas. The milking of his ego had caused him enough trouble over a few lifetimes. He wouldn't let it get in the way of this one.

"I trust you're having a pleasant evening." he said, picking his glass of brandy back up. His black uniform was neatly pressed, his badges and shoes neatly polished. His blue hair was parted and neatly put into place with a small amount of product. His goatee shaved into an amount that was acceptable within the Navy. He was often lax with protocol with his junior officers, but his senior officers were always given the proper amount of respect and showmanship.



[member="Zee"]

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Hundreds of feet above the ballroom below, the Imperial Suite at the Rosamund Hotel had been taken by Grand Moff Natasi Fortan and her retinue. The suite was perfect for her needs, being large, luxurious, and kitted out with secure telecommunications and two separate bedrooms -- an absolute must for Natasi, who was concerned for the image of herself and her office and thus, despite being in a committed relationship well on its way to nuptials, was still unmarried and thus refused to give the appearance of any impropriety. She stood while her ladies maid finished the fastenings of her gown and then took a seat at the dressing table so that the maid could work on her hair, pulling the lustrous chestnut locks over her shoulders and running a silver comb through them before beginning to style the hair.

"It was just a scheduling snafu," Natasi said firmly. "I do not intend to spend time on the capital over the coming months, but somehow my office agreed for me to attend. Frankly I'd rather not -- it seems a bit unseemly, doesn't it? -- but I'm the Grand Moff now. In some ways, it means I have less autonomy than I did as a Moff. That side is a little lopsided, dear, would you -- ?" Natasi watched in the mirror as the maid pulled and adjusted, moving pins and clips then placing an amber comb in to secure her updo in place. "People need to see me. They need to know I'm here and that I care. So while I hope these trips will be infrequent, as I would very much like to work on my own agenda, sometimes one type of duty trumps another."

"Hm," was all the maid replied with as she came over to pick up a small jewelry box, holding it out with the lid open to Natasi.

After perusing the selection, Natasi murmured: "The jet beads, I think, earring and necklace. Pin the Balance brooch here... almost like a pendant. Perfect." She bowed her head as the maid put the necklace over her head, then took the earrings and began working them into her ears carefully, studying herself in the mirror. She couldn't remember a time she looked more beautiful; never one to think herself unattractive, Natasi had found time away from the capital left her looking refreshed, youthful, and happy. She was certain the attentions of a certain industrialist didn't hurt. She smiled at her reflection, then picked up her lip color and touched up a spot.

She had to look flawless. Not just tonight. Every night. Every day. Her transition from generally well-liked Moff to undisputed leading lady of the First Order would not be served if she showed up with lippy on her teeth, or with her mascara smudged, or in some sad little dress she bought off the peg. No; she had to be thrilling. Her picture would appear in magazines and on broadcasts around the Empire tomorrow, subtly building up Natasi as an unstoppable cultural force, an unmatched fashion icon, and an indefatigable public servant. If the First Order's cultural agents did their job right, Natasi Fortan would become known as equal parts strong leader, moral figure, and policy expert -- with a hint of feminine sex symbol thrown in to appeal to the First Order's chivalrous elements. In other words, some combination of mother, patron saint, and idealized exemplar of womanhood for the First Order.

It was a tall order, but the cult of personality wasn't going to build itself, so here she was.

Finally finished with her makeup, Natasi stood and pulled her nude opera gloves on, working them up her arms and over her elbows, then allowed her maid to button the wrist-clasps and put on her jet bracelets. With all said and done, the Grand Moff turned and opened the door o the suite's common area; the door to the bedroom ostensibly used by [member="Darell Irani"] was opposite her own and stood ajar. She wandered over to the doorway and looked in, smiling pleasantly at him. "Do you need a hand with your cufflinks? I know how they can be fiddly," Natasi murmured. "We should get down there. There's fashionably late, then there's -- well, what we'll be if we don't get moving."

 

[William Kerkov Sr]

Before grabbing the whiskey, he returned a crisp salute to [member="Avicus DuSang"], "Admiral DuSang, it is nice to see you here at the First Order's military ball." The superior officer grasped the whiskey and let it roll down his throat before answering one of his most trusted officers question, he gave an artificial but still convincing chuckle, "Ah, yes I certainly am." Kerkov motioned towards the Twi'lek woman who had accompanied him to the ball, "That Twi'lek is my wife of over thirty years, have you brought anyone special with you DuSang?" The small talk may have been subpar but usually at places like this during his independent days he was out seeking to make contracts, now that he had come to the real navy game, events sucha s this were uninteresting and mainly a waste of the Grand Admiral's time.

He longed to be on a ship, barking orders to a JO fresh from the academy, but alas he was here, and although he did enjoy the time with his wife, he belonged on a ship, not in a grand hall. But as a very senior officer of the First Order military, a military ball was a very important event for a man of his rank to attend. No, he wasn't here to enjoy himself, he was here to be the small side-piece figurehead next to the government officials just to assure them that all parts of the Navy, Army, and Starfighter Corps were present, not alienating any group in particular. Such is the way these things went, and how they would always go.

 

[Darth Libertas]

And so the rich, the powerful and the loyal sons and daughters of the Supreme Leader's First Order were gathering in the opulent Rosamund Hotel. They came to celebrate the imperialist polity's successful expansive ventures as it sought to bring law, order and stability to a troubled corner of space. Or they came to celebrate themselves. Business deals would be made, power agendas advanced, maybe there would be an assassination attempt on someone.


Or perhaps the last part was just Ms. Tanaka being cynical and morbid. This was probably no surprise considering she was the sort to dabble in the dark arts and play with homicidal Sith artefacts. The former Inquisitor did not fall into the Imperial True Believer category. The Atrisian Empire had left too many scars for her to put herself in a position where she would be at the beck and call of another empire, thrall to someone's else. She could strongly sympathise with purging the sanctimonious Jedi and thought democracy was a failed form of government, but ultimately these coloured lines on the galactic map meant little to her. Nations were born, matured and fell, rinse, repeat. Her reason for attending this particular soiree was of a more personal nature.


[member="Valessia Brentioch"] was deeply invested in the First Order and playing hostess. The Scion of Brentioch meant something to her, even though the Atrisian could not quite figure out why. Emotions were such a complicated business. Bonus points: Siobhan Kerrigan would definitely not be attending because the Firemane Matriarch detested the First Order. Something to do with it being friendly towards Sith and having slaughtered lots of civilians on Eriadu. The cynical part of Sumiko wondered if the latter would still bother the Dark Jedi if the former was not the case.


So she made her way to the grand ballroom. Classy music played, the exquisite hall was being filled with finely dressed guests. The Knights of Ren and FOSB agents were standing sentinel, serving as a constant reminder that Big Brother was watching. The Atrisian wore a rather conservative knee-length dress with sleeves that covered her down to her elbows: Classy old world elegance that did not restrain her too much. She was more conservative and modest than the Firemane. Its colour was a dark scarlet that went well with her dark hair. An elegant necklace graced her neck. Her hair was worn in a loose bun, the ornate hair decoration could theoretically be used as a weapon since its pins were razor-sharp.


Ideally, she could trust [member="Illyria"] and Zyanya not to kill each other for one night while she was out! Or maybe they'd fight, make out and have hate sex. Her minions were so quarrelsome, which was probably why they were minions in the first place. Just as long as they did not mess up her library, otherwise she'd be cross and do unpleasant things to their brains.


The Scion of Brentioch exchanged pleasantries with the hotel manager, then bid her goodbye. "I see you've outdone yourself," the Atrisian said as she stepped forward. Her Basic was slightly accented. Valessia might have heard her steps in advance, or not.


The 'Space Asian' could move rather silently. It was useful for an assassin, or just to troll people. She did that with her sister [member="Amaya Tanaka"] a lot. "I've heard there'll be quite a turnout. You look lovely. How has working with our neo-imperialist friends been for you?" then she pulled the aristocrat into a kiss. "Can't believe I let you rope me into this. I'm certain there was no magical dust involved," she said with an air of sarcasm.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Control.

That was Irani's modus operandi.

Seem in control, even when things were out of his hands already. It inspired confidence in those that worked with and under him, in and out of his business prepositions. Some of his closest associates named him a smooth operator in comparison to Dashiell's adventurism and Arceneau's smoky diplomacy -- this amused him and he did little to dispel those notions.

It only served him in the long-run.

"And you are sure that this is the best course?"

"Yes, I am still slightly weary about the First Order's long-term prospects."

Darell Irani listened carefully to the concerns while settling his undershirt, buttoning himself up while those crispy blue eyes roamed across the data feeds displayed in front of them.

"Gentlemen, I thought we already talked about this." Irani rebuked gently - gently because he shared their concerns to a certain degree. But there was little reason to show this concern to them, as it would only embolden their anxiety. "The First Order's values are centered around order, law and stability, these are the kind of values we can respect, surely?"

The holographic representations of the two board members shared a look, before Alfred -- the first speaker -- coughed gently.

"Yes... but there is still the matter of Er-"
"Yes, yes, Eriadu, I am fully aware of that little issue."

Alfred frowned. "It's not a little issue, Darell. Some of our investors are worried that this could occur again and we have no idea i-"

"We do." Darell interrupted, before his attention was snatched by [member="Natasi Fortan"]'s arrival at his doorstep. His hand waved her in, but cautioned to stay out of little area where his imagery was being transferred to the board members. "I have the utmost confidence in the Grand Moff's assurances, gentlemen. If it is enough for me, it will be enough for you. Now... if you don't mind, I have a ball to attend... the show must go on, I am afraid."

Both Alfred and James nodded, exchanging pleasantries before disconnecting soon after.

"Mmhm? Ah, yes, I suppose I could use some help, dear." He waved her closer, while frowning at the data flowing in.

 

[Marzena Vaas]

“Just a moment, darling.” Marzena said with a smile to [member="Ludolf Vaas"], she flitted past him on her way into the full length mirror. Dark eyes took in her reflection, gazing critically at every detail. The songstress’ makeup was flawless – a glowing complexion, dark lashes, and lips that just a kiss of color. Her hair was worn down tonight, styled in a cascade of shiny waves.

Everything was nearly picture perfect, except for her dress. She had planned to wear a sleek black gown, strapless to show just a touch of skin, and very body conscious... just the way she liked her dresses. However, she had been very upset to find that was too snug around her hips. She had remarked that the zipper was merely being stubborn, unable to cope with the reality that the dress simply did not fit. After many fruitless attempts on her own, she had asked for the assistance of Ludolf’s strong hands. She had insisted that it would work, but the end result had been a broken zipper and Marzena in tears.

Once the tears had subsided, and she had a chance to calm down, she had settled for this gown. It wasn’t ideal, but it would work well enough.

She turned from side to side, viewing herself from nearly every angle. Marzena’s hands smoothed down the front of the dress, coming to rest gently over her stomach. “You can’t tell, right?” She asked, gazing over her shoulder at Ludolf. No one knew about the pregnancy. Marzena’s stomach still remained relatively slim; she was nearing the end of her first trimester, and her body had started to change. And though Marzena had attempted to reason with herself many times, she was still feeling sensitive and insecure about these subtle changes.

Marzena’s heeled shoes brought her over to Ludolf, and together they made for the door.

“Ready?” She asked, looking up at Ludolf, her hands gliding across his broad chest, straightening out his uniform...not that it really needed straightening.

It was bound to be an exciting night. For tonight, they would enter the ball as a couple – for everyone to see.

This wasn’t quite breaking news, for the two had slowly been working to dispel the rumors that surrounded their relationship. They did not make any formal announcements, but chose to reveal their involvement in subtle ways – date nights in Avalonia, holding hands in public, no longer hiding their affection. Marzena was confident that these small gestures were more than enough to put an end to the gossip concerning their status.

After all, words had a way of traveling fast.