Public Million Dollar Baby

[Domina Prime]

​

Look so young but we're probably gonna die
It's so fun we're so good at telling lies
◈
Look so good & we never even tried
Doing anything we want to do because we do it all the time~

Ko Vuto | Zel Sharratt | Sevrin

Open To All Who Wanna Party Hard!
​

The Golden Pearl was alive with the pulse of celebration. Low, warm lights bathed the casino-club's decadent interiors, throwing kaleidoscopic hues across the walls and onto its guests, a riot of colors and beings from every corner of the galaxy. Zeltrons, among a colorful bunch of other species all mingled, laughed and danced, their vibrant skin tones blending seamlessly into the glittering ambiance. The music was a living thing—wild, hypnotic, and unrelenting.

Zeltros itself seemed to hum in delight, its perpetual festivities reaching their zenith during the planet's famed Festival of Euphoria, a holiday of indulgence and joy. Tonight, as every other night on the party world, was steeped in the promise of hedonistic delights.

Amidst the revelry, Domina Prime reigned like a feral queen at the heart of chaos. Sprawled across a massive sectional couch upholstered in shimmering gold fabric, she was the picture of barbaric elegance. Her scaled tail curled lazily, flicking against the plush cushions, while her four arms moved with practiced precision. One hand swirled an oversized glass of neon-blue liquor, the other fumbled in her cloak, and the remaining two rested languidly, their azure claws tapping a languid rhythm against the table in front of her.

Her five alien eyes roamed over the swirling masses, alighting briefly on exotic dancers twirling amidst holographic projections of cascading flower petals. The Golden Pearl had outdone itself tonight, and Domina, fresh from her battles, had found the perfect place to unwind. Her mandibles chittered softly in amusement as she retrieved a luminous purple and blue cigar from her pocket, her mood shifting from bored to mischievous in an instant.

The cigar hissed to life with a snap of her claws, its pinkish embers glowing brightly as she took a deep drag. The smoke curled from her lips, sparkling faintly as it drifted lazily into the air. Before she could fully sink back into her decadent haze, a nervous cough interrupted her reverie.

"E-excuse me, ma'am! You're not allowed to smoke on the main floor! W-we'd need you to, um, upgrade to a VIP lounge if you'd like to continue smoking that…No smoking on the open floor!"

Domina's head tilted slowly, her five eyes locking onto the source of the interruption: a scrawny Zeltron employee in a perfectly tailored uniform, his trembling hands clutching a datapad. His nametag read 'Ardo.'

Her crystalline teeth clicked together audibly as she grimaced, her mandibles twitching with annoyance. "This one did not invite you to ruin the mood, Ardo." Her voice, though low, carried a growling undercurrent that made the poor man's knees wobble. She leaned forward, her towering frame making him shrink back instinctively. "Prime is a Very. Impatient. Person~"

In a flash, one of her arms shot out, claws snatching the Zeltron's tie. She yanked him forward with such force that he nearly fell across the table, his datapad clattering to the floor. Domina sighed dramatically, her irritation palpable as she began to drag her claws across her neck as if she had some manner of rash.

"Do you know how dreadful Dimas week has been?" she purred, her tone shifting to something almost conversational, though the growl never quite left her chest. "Fighting for Primes god, scattering the unworthy… exhausting work, truly. And now you come to spoil the only fun This One has been looking forward too?"

"N-no! Oh, Force, no!" Ardo stammered, his words tumbling over themselves in sheer panic. "W-we're honored by your, uh, presence! It's just, uhh…" He fumbled for the right words, sweat beading on his brow. "I-I was only trying to offer you our best deal! For , uh, one as mighty and elegant as yourself!"

Domina blinked, the words slowly sinking in. Her grip loosened, and her mandibles clicked again, this time with amusement. "Ohhhh?" She leaned back slightly, her lips curling into a toothy grin. "You know of the might of Prime? How devilishly delicious! Tell This One, little red, what is this… deal of yours?"

Relieved at her sudden change in tone, Ardo straightened as best he could, his tie still askew. "W-well, we have three tiers! Bronze, Silver, and Gold. Gold gives you the full experience—private lounges, unlimited service, exclusive entertainers—"

"Prime will take them all~" Domina declared abruptly, cutting him off.

"E-excuse me?" Ardo blinked in confusion.

"All. Of. Them," she repeated, her claws snapping together for emphasis. She took another drag of her cigar, exhaling a massive, glittering cloud of neon-pink smoke that enveloped the unfortunate employee. Coughing and sputtering, he stumbled back, only to be met with a playful swat of her tail across his rear.

"MUSH, little red!" she barked, her laughter ringing out like a war drum. "Fetch your paperwork or whatever nonsense you need to make this happen. Yes? And bring back some fun…mmnf, like a cute boy~"

Ardo staggered off, coughing into his sleeve, while Domina turned her attention back to the crowd. Her eyes locked onto a particularly muscular bartender who had been staring at her from across the room. She grinned wickedly, her claws curling in a beckoning gesture. The bartender froze, adjusting his stance nervously under her predatory gaze.

"Him," she purred to no one in particular, pointing with a claw. "The big boy. Bring him here."

But before she could dwell too long on her latest amusement, her five eyes caught the glittering form of a Zeltron dancer spinning gracefully nearby. Her neck craned, her focus shifting with almost childlike glee. "Wait, no—her too! Yes, the pretty girls and pretty boys. All of them! Bring them all!"

Domina sank deeper into the couch, puffing heart-shaped smoke rings into the air, her tail flicking with delight. Tonight, she intended to savor every moment of the festivities. In celebration of a grand tribute to her god~

And brimstone & fire to any who dare to rain on her parade.

 

[Sevrin]

Domina Prime
Sevrin had been drifting across the galaxy, indulging his whims and desires, hopping on and off ships like a man unbound by responsibility or consequence. His wandering eventually led him to Zeltros, a planet famed for its intoxicating allure. The moment he stepped into the Golden Pearl, the world seemed to dissolve into a haze of soft lights, melodic laughter, and the heady perfume of bliss. He felt like gliding through a dream, the gentle euphoria of the planet's atmosphere wrapping around him like a silk shroud.

As he moved through the lively lounge, a faint disturbance caught his ear—a sharp tone cutting through the harmony. Someone was harassing the staff, their words clashed with the intoxicating ambiance. His silver-blue eyes narrowed, honing in on the culprit with predatory ease.

He approached with measured grace, his presence commanding without effort. Before him stood a strange alien woman, her posture of hostility as she barked orders. Sevrin took her in with a languid glance, morbid curiosity shifting across his features as if she were a fascinating specimen under glass.

"Hmm," he murmured, the sound a low, smoky drawl.

Pivoting on his heel, he sauntered to her side and, with a languid sweep of his leg, knocked her clawed feet off the surface they had so brazenly claimed. His movements were deliberate yet unhurried, dripping with a kind of insolent grace. Before she could react, he spun smoothly and dropped onto her lap as if it were the most natural seat in the house. Leaning back with a catlike smirk, he crossed his arms over his chest, his posture the epitome of relaxed defiance.

"Now, darling," he purred, his voice rich and teasing, "if you send the bartender running, who else is going to keep the drinks coming? Surely you wouldn't want to ruin our good time."

His gaze settled on her with a mixture of amusement and thinly veiled challenge, daring her to respond while he claimed her space as his own.

 

[Zel Sharratt]

Zeltros
Tags: Domina Prime , Sevrin

"Oh... come now, surely you're a strapping young fellow under that hunky helmet~"

Zel sat in a private booth, unflinching as the hand of a particularly flamboyant Zeltron man traced the outline of his visor from across the table. The Bluebreen, of course, wasn't budging on his stance.

"No-can-do," he stated firmly. "Helmet stays on for the interview. I would hardly be a scribe of Mando'a without it."

"Uhg, such a buzzkill..." the Zeltron sighed, deflating a little. "Alright... I'll tell you about those old ruins..."

---

"...and, of course, a history of evading Imperial control. But what circumstances surround the crash of an ancient Imperial vessel here on the planet, I wonder. Such a phenomena will require further investigation. In the meantime, the secrets of the galaxy's vast history will continue to be unraveled in my next transmission. Log 3397."

An eventful day indeed. Fortunately, Zel's helmet had a particularly good filter on it. No pheromones would be making him feel sick today. A lead on an old Imperial shuttle was certainly one that filled his heart with excitement. He was certainly on the path to the discovery of the year, no doubt. The Mandalorian collected his things and set off towards the exit, but stopped along his path once coming across a peculiar sight...

Before she could react, he spun smoothly and dropped onto her lap as if it were the most natural seat in the house. Leaning back with a catlike smirk, he crossed his arms over his chest, his posture the epitome of relaxed defiance.

"Now, darling," he purred, his voice rich and teasing, "if you send the bartender running, who else is going to keep the drinks coming? Surely you wouldn't want to ruin our good time."

"Be careful where you seat yourself on that one," Zel noted, his tone as professional as ever. "I believe she has various... spiny tendrils that are retractable. I hope you have particularly good armor below that latex."

 

[Domina Prime]

Ko Vuto | Sevrin | Zel Sharratt


​

Domina lounged back, savoring the cocktail of sensations—the neon fluids warming her throat, the sharp bite of the cigar's buzz, and the crowd's jubilant energy swelling as the music reached its crescendo. Her five eyes half-lidded in lazy amusement as her gaze trailed after Ardo, the skittish employee she'd just sent scurrying away with a flick of her tail. She snorted softly to herself, her grin broadening as the silver doors of the employee area swallowed him up.

Propping her boots on the low table again, she tipped her head back, taking in the swirling holo-projections and vibrant ceiling displays. Petals floated down in lazy spirals, catching the club's kaleidoscopic lights as if the universe had decided to rain beauty just for her. She exhaled another sparkling cloud of pink smoke, her tail rattling rhythmically beside her in a display of indulgent satisfaction.

As the music shifted into a slower, melodic cadence, Domina found herself humming along, then softly singing with the lyrics that drifted through the air.

"I do not mind, the rain sometimes. 'Cause the only way the roses bloom… in my mind…" Her voice was rich and husky, tinged with the same casual confidence as her every movement. Two of her arms swayed in rhythm, while the other two joined in with playful flourishes as if she were conducting the music herself.

"When I cry… when I cry… That's the only way… the roses bloom~"

Her voice carried into the haze, drawing glances her way, though she paid them no mind. The lyrics transported her briefly, the echoes of long hyperspace journeys and crackling radio signals resurfacing. She chortled softly, swaying her head back and forth as the chorus rolled through the room.

But her moment of blissful detachment shattered abruptly as a shadow loomed over her. Domina's five eyes snapped open just as a bronze-skinned man stepped boldly into her space. With an audacious flick of his leg, he knocked her feet from the table.

"Hey! What's the big idea!? Dimas VIBING here!" she barked, immediately leaning forward, her tail bristling beside her.

Before she could fully rise, the stranger turned with a daring smile and, with no preamble, dropped himself squarely into her lap.

"O-ohhhhhh, woah woah woah woah woah~" Domina gasped, her earlier indignation giving way to shock. Her claws hovered for a moment in uncertainty before instinctively settling—two resting lightly on his hips, the other two lifting to rake through his silky black hair.

The man smirked, reclining comfortably as though her lap was a throne designed for him. "Now, darling," he drawled, his voice rich with teasing confidence, "If you send the bartender running, who else is going to keep the drinks coming? Surely you wouldn't want to ruin OUR good time~"

His words, smooth and deliberate, carried a hint of a challenge, daring her to react as he claimed her space unapologetically.

Domina's ears fluttered furiously, betraying her internal fluster even as her grin widened. The heat of an azure blush spread across her purple skin, but she quickly smothered it with a wicked smile.

"Weeeeeeeeeeellllllllllll," she purred, her voice dripping with mock consideration, "Dima supposes you have a point. At least you're prettier than him, yes?" She let her claws settle more firmly on his hips, her grin flashing sharper as she took a long drag from her cigar.

The ember sizzled as she inhaled, holding the smoke for a moment before exhaling it in a slow, deliberate plume that sparkled in the club's lights. With a flick of her tail, she gestured toward the massive glass of neon fluid on the table.

"Quick," she said, leaning closer until their faces were a breath apart. "Say something nice to Dima. It's been a dreadful week!" Her voice was flirtatious and menacing all at once, her grin playful but carrying just enough edge to keep him guessing.

The man's smirk didn't falter. If anything, it grew bolder. "Got a name, sugar?" Domina asked, her voice a velvet growl, her tail giving a faint rattle of intrigue.


Domina's dramatics drew a few curious glances as Zel, the Mandalorian scribe who had appeared from nowhere. The sleek nightclub lights glinted off his domed, scuba-like helmet, his armored form standing out starkly among the lavish decadence around them. Meanwhile, the audacious human still lounged comfortably in her lap, entirely unbothered, a sly smirk tugging at his lips.

"Be careful where you seat yourself on that one," Zel said, his voice an even monotone, though the slight tilt of his head suggested something bordering on amusement. "I believe she has various... spiny tendrils that are retractable—"

Domina wheezed mid-drag of her cigar, hacking out a plume of glittering pink smoke that shimmered in the air. Her tail lashed outward, moving faster than most could track, attempting to coil tightly around Zel's armored waist and yanking him down to the sectional with an audible thunk.

"Cousin, shush!" she hissed, shielding her mouth with one hand like it might somehow keep the human from hearing. "You're going to scare the pretty boys away!" She shot Zel a sharp glare before turning her gaze back to the human in her lap, flashing an overly innocent smile as her ears flapped like nervous bird wings.

"Sorry! He's, uhhhhh…" Domina stumbled, floundering for a moment. "A-adopted… and stuff~" Her voice carried an unconvincing casualness as she waved a hand dismissively, clearly scrambling to salvage the situation.

Domina's ears twitched furiously, her embarrassment flaring brighter than the neon lights flickering across the club. She turned sharply back to Zel, releasing him from her tail's grasp, and promptly reached out with one clawed hand to deliver a light but exasperated slap to the top of his helmet.

"Who ever taught you to be a wingman!?" she demanded in a dramatic, almost theatrical tone, scoffing loudly as she folded her arms. "Gods…need another drink now~"

 

[Ko Vuto]

​

Tags: Domina Prime | Zel Sharratt | Sevrin

Did Ko really need to take a break?

Very much, the stress of the grueling conflict against the Sith was getting to Ko. He’s hardly been able to keep up with looking after Valor. Even mediation has become increasingly elusive for Ko to do lately. He wasn’t even here on Zeltros when it officially became enveloped by the Galactic Alliances’s sphere of influence.

He’d never been to the zeltros homeworld before. Ko actually felt a little underwhelmed. But I didn't think that that was the fault of the world or its people. He was blind, masked and his mind was stubbornly guarded. Which made it feel not too dissimilar to other planets he’s been to. But the positive energy was most certainly refreshing. Zeltros was exceptional in that regard. Even in the rare times war has come to the world it never managed to overstay its welcome. It seemed as though nothing short of a super-laser could end the resilient optimism of zeltros.

One of the more annoying aspects he was finding out was the strength of their drinks. Even beverages he thought would be fine often reminded him of the kind of booze that his uncle regularly drank. Stepping into one of the many, many clubs that peppered the planet Ko noted the name. Wondering if it was affiliated with The Perls by more than just name alone.

Right as he did so his Force sight noticed something almost instantly. Causing a wave of dread to crash into him like a tsunami. Because of her nature he had a hard time actually sensing them until it was too late. Part of Ko wondered if it was some cruel fate The Force had planned for him that he kept getting into these situations. But across the club he could see her. Dima, in all of her warped, inky darkness. To him she appeared like a misshapen singularity. The Force contorted and bent around her unnaturally.

Breathing heavily Ko backed himself into a wall. Using it to keep himself up as his body suddenly felt weak with anxiety. Naturally the locals noticed this sudden surge of negativity coming from Ko a few approaching the Kel Dor to see if he was okay and if they could help. Although a hedonistic people they were often good natured and compassionate. ​

​

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Mandatory Fun Day
Immediate Goals -
1: Stand there.
1.1: Look pretty
1.2: Stand there and look pretty.
1: Make sure the bartender doesn't die.
1.1: Try not to die due to this... Weird girl. (Optional)
2: Enjoy your PTO (optional)

BLUFOR - No friends here.

OPFOR - Enemy Unknown

TARGETING ACTION(s) - D Domina Vane

---

Trayze Tesar hated being told what to do - especially in matters of recreation. So what if he worked long hours, and whenever he didn't work he remained either in his abode on Jutrand, or if he was lucky, back to Besberra with his family. But nooo, he had to "have new routines, new sensations!" And Zeltros? Really?! Like the last time he interacted with this many Zeltrons wasn't exactly too fond a memory - and he was once again he was vindicated.

Say what you will about how "boring" his routine was, it kept the crazy Force anomalies that seem to saturate the Galaxy at bay.

"Don't worry Jeric." Trayze spoke to the bartender - one of the better ones he's encountered, capable of shutting up, snarking back, and giving you a damn fine drink. "...Put this on my tab, and have your boys clear out."
"She Forcie?" Jeric quipped, a mix of fear and flatfootedness, masked only by the audacious dispassion that can only come from customer service.
"Worse." Was the only answer Trayze gave.

And so the Kiffar rose, bottle in a cooler in hand, and making his way over to the multi tendriled creature. He knew of her, the battle-lusted creature had certainly made an impression back on Geonosis - and knew when she decided to move her limbs, it would most likely be in a fight. A fight that none of the staff can easily win.

When approaching a Force null, most Force users would be overcome with a sense of dread, a sense of "this is wrong"-ness that rends the bowels and crushes the mind. For one who was raised by non-Force Users and had been a comparatively late bloomer, this was tuesday; or rather, the churning in his stomach could be delegated to disgust towards how wanton her destruction was.

Putting on his best waiter improvisation, he gently refilled her glass with the aforementioned wine, being sure to uncork it to subtly redirect her attention to him - the only Bogan-damned bastard crazy enough to try and take her on and have more than a decimal's chance of winning. Whether she thanked him or simply quaffed the drink, Trayze made his move.

"While some say beauty lay within soft and supple things, personally, Ah liked how ya hefted that axe back at Geonosis." he opined innocently.

 

[Sevrin]

Domina Prime Ko Vuto Zel Sharratt

"Be careful where you seat yourself on that one," Zel said, his voice an even monotone, though the slight tilt of his head suggested something bordering on amusement. "I believe she has various... spiny tendrils that are retractable—"

Sevrin cocked a brow with curiosity and echoed, "Oh, you believe? Have you seen such hidden appendages, I wonder?" He purred the words aloud, his tone laced with intrigue.

"Weeeeeeeeeeellllllllllll," she purred, her voice dripping with mock consideration, "Dima supposes you have a point. At least you're prettier than him, yes?"

"Well, of course I'm prettier. I have something that Zeltron boy does not. Something his faking pales in comparison to: confidence," he replied with a smirk, his voice practically brimming with self-assurance.

"Say something nice to Dima. It's been a dreadful week!"

Sevrin turned his gaze to the strange creature that was Dima, his golden eyes glinting with interest. He reached up, his fingertips grazing the top curve of her horn along its flat side. Starting at the base near her head, he traced the line down to the very tip, where he pressed the pad of his thumb against the sharp point, testing its edge with a deliberate touch.

"You have the most magnificent horns I have ever seen," he began, his voice a velvety purr. "They hold a vibrancy that would make even the deepest ocean jealous. I am certain they are fine weapons for goring in battle. I wonder... how many bodies have you thrust them into, and how deeply have they penetrated your enemies?" His words, while sultry, carried a macabre edge, his tone unfazed by the touches of her various hands.

Since gaining his freedom, Sevrin had made drastic changes to his lifestyle. No longer was he an unwashed mongrel coated in blood and dirt. Now, he was a man of refinement, his transformation a screaming declaration of self-respect. His hair, once matted, was now impeccably treated, combed to a silky smoothness free of knots. His fingers, meticulously groomed, bore nails that were clean, trimmed, and painted with an artistic flair.

He took pride in his appearance, presenting himself with a daring confidence, a liberation he had never known before. Sevrin flaunted his form like a peacock, radiating an unapologetic self-assuredness that bordered on defiant. Whatever others might think of his vanity, he seemed utterly indifferent, reveling in his newfound sense of identity, control, and freedom.

Then he felt it—a ripple in the Force. It wasn't a calculated observation but an instinctual, visceral reaction, the kind he had often sensed from others in the pits. It was a sentiment he knew intimately. Fear.

His gaze lifted, blue eyes locking onto the Keldor with a flicker of curiosity. Why would anyone be so fearful in a place like this?

For a moment, his attention wavered, captivated by the unexpected aura of the Keldor. His focus drifted, leaving Dima temporarily forgotten in the wake of this curious discovery.

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Someone got the people at the bar moving. Someone else caused that train to derail and somehow reverse on its tracks in one fluid motion. Bubblegum pink hands patted and smoothed shoulders, chests, and cheeks with eternally warm hands. "It's alright. It's alright. We have guests," she cooed. "Let's go with Operation Big Man. There's no need to be hasty. It's a party."

Operation Big Man was a protocol for arrogant loud mouths that thought the people of Zeltros were pushovers and slaves to their every whim. Basically an isolation policy without a particular guest (and their retinue) being declared persona non gratis. Everyone just kind of formed an invisible dome around them and continued to operate normally outside of that area. No need for all the other guests to have their day, night, party ruined. There's still be plenty of dancers relatively nearby so it wasn't obvious anything had changed; but not intimately close enough for trouble.

Cali's brows rose and her wide golden eyes stared as word came about a nervous boy being sent off for paperwork. "Paperwork?" A few quick blinks followed as her head rolled to the side. "What paperwork?" This was Zeltros, not Courscant. Zeltrons had exceptional memories. No one needed paperwork. Now, credits on the other hand... back to that whole 'we are not pushovers' thing. "Make sure he's okay and make sure he finds someone cute to play with. Even if that's you."

With internal matters settled, Cali turned to regard the cluster of offworlders. A quick huff escaped her as she planted her hands on her hips. No frowns, just exasperation. They all looked like trouble. Every. One. Of. Them. Dima, obviously, but Sevrin and Tesar were ringing bells in Cali's head. Not to mention Vuto off to one side. All the makings of trouble. This might turn into Operation Stop Being Wet Blankets if things went sideways.

With a slight shrug of there being nothing else for it, Cali strode out toward the gathering where one of them was playing waiter. Probably to disarm Dima. Probably not an assassin. Well, even if they were Dima could handle herself. Cali was never one on the front lines of battle -- not intentionally, anyway -- but she knew of the space monster. Not that were was anything wrong with being a space monster. Long as everyone behaved, everyone was welcome on Zeltros.

"Di~ma~" Cali called out in a sing-song manner. "Di~ma~ You are enjoying yourself aren't you?" She took a quick and open look at all those around her. "Looks like you got plenty of company." Time to see just what sort of mood she was in; and the moods of everyone else lurking nearby. A Zeltron could suss these things out quickly and then make the most of them. Parties were their specialty. Certainly was Cali's specialty, anyway.

Domina Prime | Sevrin | Zel Sharratt Ko Vuto | Trayze Tesar​

 

[Zel Sharratt]

Zeltros
Tags: Domina Prime , Sevrin , Trayze Tesar , Ko Vuto , Cali Ziiva

"Sorry! He's, uhhhhh…" Domina stumbled, floundering for a moment. "A-adopted… and stuff~"

"Technically most of us are adopted," Zel noted. "That is the way, after all. For thousands of years, ever since the actions of the honorable Mandalore the Indomitable. The first foundlings of our culture were freed from their chains on Iskadrell and brought up as warriors. It has thus been tradition for our kind to take in the lowly and forge them into the strong. A story better left for another day."

A sigh escaped his chest, just beneath his helmet. The atmosphere continued to change. It was starting to get a bit beyond the scope of his mission, it seemed. Best not spoil the fun of those who were looking to be less professional. Zel, however, was on the clock. He very much had no interest in partaking in such pleasantries.

Not that he cared much about them to begin with.

"I'll have to be off then, before I wind up rambling again," the Blubreen noted. "Much to do, I'm afraid. Ruins of yesteryear call to me, and I certainly can't leave a trail unfollowed when there's a story to be told. Do try to behave yourself, cousin."

It was probably for the best he didn't stick around. Things got messy wherever Dima tread. Maybe good material to document, but every now and then a nice and easy ruin was preferable.