Dominion Never Forget | CIS Dominion of Siskeen Hex

[Aspect of Defiance]

Siskeen had gone dark. The events which had taken place on Olanet some time ago had been difficult for many to bear. What was supposed to have been a peaceful and diplomatic secession had turned into a political game the likes of which could only have been the cunning machinations of Derek Dib . He had drawn the Agents of Chaos close, and in the end, made the decision the Confederacy of Independent Systems was still in the best interest of his people. They offered the freedoms he wanted.

His reward for the display of loyalty had been a bullet between the eyes. The Agents of Chaos has seen his actions as a betrayal, and before their escape shot him, along with the wife of the Viceroy of Thyferra, Seraphina Corvinus . They had both been secured, saved, and placed in bacta tanks in the best facilities Thyferra could offer. Yet, word had still not been heard on the condition of the Viceroy, nothing definitive, only that he lived. Seraphina lived as well, but the road to ahead would be difficult.

It had been Siskeen which had sent an envoy to the Viceroyalty. It had been Siskeen which finally broke their silence. Having reached out to the Confederacy once more, they were ready to move forward.

Confederate ships surrounded the system. They were there for protection and the passage of several of the Confederacy’s prominent members. While there had been tragedy leading up to this moment, rumor had surfaced there would be good news this day. Many had been invited with much speculation as to what this news could be. Had Derek Dib recovered? Would he be taking his place among the Viceroyalty again?

For those not directly involved in meetings, a grand celebration had been planned to welcome the Confederacy back to Olanet with open arms. It would be night that no one would forget as the palace had decorated with the finest the system had to offer. A display of fireworks had been planned for the night along with the best music and drink Olanet could muster. It was truly an extravagant occasion, a time to be happy.

Still for others, Siskeen had much to offer, sights to see, and places to go. There was much to do and explore as the world which had once been a border world for the Confederacy made its move to rejoin. One such location was a new monument which had been erected in memory of the lives lost during the conflict on Ryloth, and the meetings on Olanet. Despite everything which had taken place in as many weeks there were two things which had been obvious. Siskeen was strong still, and so was the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

Spoiler: ”OBJECTIVES”

Today is a day of celebration. Behind closed doors meetings have happened all day to negotiate the terms of reentry for Siskeeen. Word has reached all those in attendance for the evening festivities that an announcement is to be made at the celebration. Rumors fill the tongues of the guests about a possible sighting of Derek Dib and Seraphina Corvinus. Will they arrive? Are they present and in attendance?

A memorial has been erected to honor the lives of those lost during the conflict on Ryloth and Siskeen. Here you may pay your respects or search for names of friends, loved ones, or brothers and sisters in arms. We will never forget.

Olanet, the jewel of the Siskeen System, has much to see and explore. Find yourself lost in the rich landscape, or explore parts of the palace that should be off limits. Whatever your imagination can find to do, this would be the place to do it.

Spoiler: ”CIS TAG LIST”

Alban Roble
Luca Donskoi
Amelia von Sorenn
A Arisone
Archon Xris
Alaria Telwith
Aston Jacobs
Aya Clarke
Bastille Rommer
Beric Layne
Bentil Mortop
Bullwark
BX-1335
Caesar Kenway
Corvus Dravere
Colton Renth
Damsy Callat
Jayce Pryde
Decious
Eli-Mae Forrest
Eryneth
Fawn Alzi
Faye Malvern
FN-1138
Gerwald Lechner
Holt
IG-65A
Ingrid L'lerim
Joannis Campbell
John Locke
Karlie Lynn Destat
Kasca Fen
Kathryn Foster
Kayla Wylen
Kiff Brayde
Krystal
Kurenai Yumi
Kyber
Lady Moll
Luna Terrik
Lyla Quinn
Maani
Maple Harte
Mathieu Brion
Fury of Aerðs
Rabbit
Rann Thress
Maria Savilia
Maur
Millu Lee
Muad Dib
Myrrdin_Emries
Nine Lives
L LGMForever
R4-AUD
Razelle Breuner
Redd
Roy Americus
Ryk Gaelir
Rylan Kordel
SC-A1
Srina Talon
Startorn
Subject 73 Red
Talon Rahl
Talak Jenste
ToKola Bakari
Tess Valnora
Tyran Numeck
Valencia Hadley
Vanric Dannon
Veronika Fleischer
Visanj T'shkali
Kyyrk
Vyse de Valorous
Vytal Noctura
Valeria de la Vallée
Uxagi Xatash
Rayne Centaris
Ryk Gaelir
Taiia Locke
Sabine Delacroix
Vess Sadragen
Anashla Deshal
Lesya Kosarev
Jordar Varcskel
Julra Repraj
Ashelia Solidor
The Monster
Draconis Sederius Wolf
Karlie Lynn Destat
Easy-G97
Jason Farkas
Cypher Rage
Danielle Mueller
Nimue

 

[Zlova Rue]

​

Who had a celebration involving Ryloth (and Siskeen) without the Twi'lek being in attendance? No one that's who. The red skinned Twi'lek woman strode onto a stage amidst the celebrating crowd dressed in a black, body-snug outfit. So the dainty nobility didn't faint she'd spare the noble, the regal, and the proud Siskeen populace the full extent of her repertoire -- yes, everyone else would have to suffer, but house rules. There were still plenty of blood-pumping and limber dances a woman could perform that didn't even border on raunchy. Skill was eye-popping all by itself with no need for erotic or even suggestive displays. She knew how to please all kinds of crowds.

Zlova hadn't done a thing to hide who she was either. Knight Obsidian that knew her? Enjoy the show. Confederate Officer that knew her? Enjoy the show. Celebration-attendee that later got a little too presumptuous because they saw the show? Unwise.

Some were no doubt thinking or murmuring to one another about 'poor Ryloth' having its delicate infrastructure broken by the terrorists resulting it the planet essentially being cut off for a time. The Confederacy was working to keep it as secure as possible, but there still seemed to be reports of riff raff dropping by for a little amusement. Trivial matters soon cleared up.

Yes, 'poor Ryloth.' Zlova didn't personally care about that wasteland of a ball and its precious green belt. Hadn't grown up there. Wasn't raised in its traditions. Couldn't be arsed to learn its history. All she had in common with it was some ancestry. She'd been brought up as a Sith with the intention of becoming a Sith, and she'd accomplished that handedly.

So, she wasn't there to represent 'her people.' Zlova was there because she enjoyed dancing, and the circumstances gave her the perfect opportunity and 'excuse' to do so. Look at the red Twi'lek showing such solidarity with her people. And a Knight Obsidian too, they'd say. See? Everyone won.

Even the terrorists. What did they win? Zlova's violet lightsabers bisecting them. Play violent games, win violent prizes -- essentially the bedrock principle of Sith everywhere. Something Zlova rather enjoyed. Except for the slaughtering of the helpless and weak; there had never been a point to that in her opinion. Why terrorize a bunch of random people before slaughtering them, or just to cow them? For control? Boring. Let them get stronger. Let them resist. Make them a better adversary so you could fight them properly in the future! And if they won? Then you had been resting on your laurels, and had better improve before a conflict became your last.

If she didn't enjoy dancing so much, Zlova would have rather been hunting for terrorists at that very moment. Purge the weak that skulked in the shadows trying to get other people to do their dirty work for them. It wasn't that they created other terrorists -- it was that those in the shadow couldn't be bothered to face women like her in open combat. Kinda of rubbed a former Sith Lord the wrong way.

For now, she'd dance for amusement. Tomorrow, she'd dance with her sabers.

OPEN​

 

[Muad Dib]

Location: The palace and then to the monument in the southern gardens
Tags: Open

The Event.

A reunification of the Siskeen System with the Confederacy. In preparation the planets and their citizens prepared for an event unrivaled in regality and frivolous release. A release of built up frustration, rage, and loss would be exorcised by the carefree attitude and joyful parties igniting across the system. It was an earned few moments of reprieve that the citizens of the United Siskeen Coalition now took advantage of.

The streets were filled with vendors pushing their one of a kind wares upon the suspecting and unsuspecting alike. Food courts turned nearly every intersection into small gathering places to eat, drink, and take a breather from the sprawling festivities. Restaurants and bars opened their doors to the public and a place to sit a spell in a climate controlled environment. And for the weekend all food and drink consumed would be free. On the house so to speak.

The palace stood pristine, no remnant of the disastrous meeting that quickly deteriorated into violent physical confrontation. All wings of the palace were opened for guided tours to mosey along to. Only the office of the Viceroy and adjacent rooms were sequestered.

The jovial atmosphere was influenced by the multitudes of musicians serenading the crowds with their masterful talents and mesmerizing voices. Humans intermingled with cathar, balinka, togorians, geonosians, and mandalorians as all were citizens of the Coalition. This was a weekend of unity and healing, of forging new bonds with allies and celebrating their commonality.

While Olanet dipped into the new sensations offered through the festival, the gas planet also offered a unique experience. Kaer 1 was a massive station suspended within the atmosphere of the planet. Upon first sight the station seemed an average outing, but this was far from the truth. Each level offered a new experience. From the rich and haughty to the demure aristocracy, from the working class to the criminal, everything money could buy (and a few things it couldn’t) was offered under the careful eye of the Aegis Corporation. The occasion was unable to leave the station untouched by the fervor that ran like wildfire among the citizens and confederates alike.

And so the Event unfolded.

He was not what you would expect. Not in dress, or carriage, nor features. And certainly not in attitude and composure. Dark brown trousers festooned with pockets ended at the ankle where combat boots were easily seen. A white tunic with sleeves rolled up his forearms completed the simplicity of his attire for the evening. However he was well accented by the accessories worn. His beskad lay across his back and kal clipped to his belt. Just under was his gun rig, two Protector Revolvers tied down on either thigh. Two silver bracelets adorned his wrists in elegantly plain simplicity.

He moved down the halls, bypassing any tours along the way, before slipping into one of the great libraries of the U.S.C. the shelves ran up and down several levels, circular staircases making them accessible. Walking with nary a care, Muad verified he was alone before finding a specific tome to twist left, pull up, twist right, then press down. A secret passageway opened in the shelves which closed silently behind him.

Avoiding the crowds was the purpose of the secret passage being used. Don't get the man wrong, he loved a good drink, pub fight, and burning establishment as much as the next guy. But he was supposed to be on his best behavior as the responsibilities of ruling were held aloft upon his shoulders. And let's face it, having the brother of the Viceroy seen causing havoc and mayhem on the first occasion Derek was to make his first public appearance … well suffice it to say it didn't bode well.

So with an exasperated sigh he accepted his role for the night. A sober congenial host who wasn't inclined on skewering the guests. Talk about a buzz kill. Releasing a second sigh as he reached the correct exit, Muad opened the portion of the wall on noiseless hinges and slipped into the office of the Viceroy.

There, standing before one of the wall mirrors framed in gilded brass, Derek Dib stood with his back turned. His hands fiddled unseen with the tie around his collar. Fingers wove about in a pattern as the dark haired man finished the final touches of his attire. Black suit with a charcoal dress shirt, the black tie finished the ensemble.

As Muad watched, his brother ripped the tie free and flung onto the ground in frustrated surrender at his failure. The man turned as Muad closed the distance between them. Crouching he collected the tie and moved to stand across from Derek. Externally the Viceroy appeared as he always did, impeccably dressed with red tinged eyes and stubble adorning his face. The only deviation was the inch long scar over his right eyes, a memento of his near death experience at the hands of Alwine. An air of defeat clung to the leader of the USC.

"How am I to rule when I don't even have the memory to make a tie?"

With a gentleness that seemed a polar opposite of his reputation, Muad slightly upturned the collar and slipped the tie around his brother's neck. Taking Derek's hands in his own, the Mad Master began tiring the tie with his brother's hands conjoined with his own. After the first flip of the tie Muad allowed his hands change from guidance to merely support as the tie came into existence. The Viceroy looked down at the precise knot.

"You may not believe you remember how to tie a tie, but trust yourself. Muscle memory knows what to do from repetitive motions. Are you ready Viceroy Dib?" Muad offered a small genuine smile.

Derek turned away as shoulders slumped in resignation. "How do you expect me to continue as a leader when so many of my memories have been dashed upon the rocks? How am I supposed to remember acquaintances and fellow Viceroyalty members when I have no memory of my own brother?"

Muad placed his hands on either side of his brother's face and pulled him close, their foreheads lightly touching. Much of the damage done may have been reversed by modern medicine, in thanks to the Bacta mogul Daegon, but the damage done to parts of his brain were unsalvageable. The parts of the brain ruined were whole once more yet it did nothing for the memories lost.

"You are a Dib ner vod. Life is never easy or fair to our blood. And like those that came before us and will follow behind, you have a choice to make. Are you going to remain on the ground in acceptance of your defeat or will you rise from the ashes and strive forward, always forward? And though you may feel ostracized and alone, you are never alone. Derek, you and I will always have one another. So what say you Viceroy? Are you prepared to stand before our people and show that though you may strike a Dib down, we will always rise from the ashes?"

Muad saw that his soft reprimand struck a chord in his brother who straightened with resolve held through willpower. A curt nod affirmed that Derek was ready.

They turned in unison towards the door of the office to make their way to the palatial gardens of the south lawn. A few steps and the Viceroy faltered in his stride, nearly collapsing into a heap of not for Muad. Tremors ran unbidden through Derek's body as Muad took some of his brother's weight. A few moments later and the Viceroy gave a shaky nod to continue despite what just transpired. Cautiously he released Derek and gave an agreeing nod in turn.

"I'm here broheim. If you feel another bout begin, just lean on me. Stronger together."

Muad's words enveloped his brother with kindness and determined resolve to be his anchor if he should need it. Again they began their slow progress through the palace to make their way along one of the many stone walkways that led to the monuments to those that paid the ultimate price for their worlds, their people, and the safety of their family. Along the path a group of Aegis Knights escorted the pair in a loose security detail.

After several minutes they entered the secluded cove complete with a stream fed by a spring. Several titan statues decorated the massive clearing, obsidian walls filled with the names of those who sacrificed their all. Each name was illuminated in soft pastel yellow which stood stark against the midnight black walls. If one was to touch a name a small hidden projector would display a miniature hologram with the person's likeness and a short synopsis of their life.

Waiters intermingled with the gathered crowd touring the monuments in order to offer fresh beverages.

The men stopped before an especially tall statue bearing the features of the Viceroy. Hesitantly Muad watched as Derek activated the hologram within the image of himself. Quietly he read the short paragraphs outlining portions of a past the dark haired man could not recollect.

Muad watched as beads of perspiration dotted his brother's forehead despite the cool breeze wafting over them. The knights left a sizable buffer between the brothers yet on the lookout for the signal to assist Derek in returning to the palace to rest from the exertions.

 

[Daegon Corvinus]

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Seraphina Corvinus

Olanet. The last time Daegon had set foot on the planet, it had been with the intention to try and convince his friend Derek Dib to remain among the Confederacy of Independent Systems. If that were not possible, the next step would have been to help walk the Siskeen system through a natural secession which would not cause injury to the citizenry because of a hasty decision. Instead, Olanet had become the scene of tragedy. Derek had decided to stay, but in the end he had been shot between the eyes. Daegon had been forced to watch as his friend and wife fell victim to the shot Daegon would replay over and over in his mind until the day Alwine Daye was buried six feet underground.​

​

A heavy sigh escaped Daegon's lips as he stood in front of the full mirror. His suit needed adjusting. The cravat was not straight. Daegon cursed as he tried his best to fiddle with the silken tie that seemed to be more stubborn that he was in the moment.​

​

"Frak it all," the frustrated cantor of his voice rang out louder than he wanted it to.​

​

Daegon looked over to his wife, Seraphina Corvinus , hoping she had not heard. This was where she would have helped him, but she still needed to recover. The bacta treatments had been effective in repairing the damage, but there was one issue in particular that needed attention not even the bacta could cure it seemed. Derek had also been fortunate enough to live. None of them were left the same.​

​

With a huff, Daegon finished his tie. Finally it was in place.​

​

A small wincing noise whistled from his mouth as a hand reached for the wound on his right wrist which was still healing. The scar was a reminder of how Daegon had changed. Without the calming guidance of his Angel, the Demon had been given over to the darkest parts of his nature. Vengeance was his only goal. It was the only thing he had sight for. One might debate which of the two had been left blinded the most by the events of Siskeen. While Daegon seemed to have retained his, much of what he could see before that day was lost to him now.​

​

He had made a deal with a mad man.​

​

Turning, Daegon moved over to his bride. She was resplendent as always. The droids which had been tasked with helping her in the finer points of beautification, something the Demon knew nothing about or had any skill in deploying, had done as fine a job as any. He was glad to have insisted they come along as well as two of the resident staff. Seraphina had needed her ladies maid, a term she loathed, but the staff was compensated far beyond what was considered a fair wage.​

​

"They will be waiting for us, my love," the Demon said as he approached with his arm offered. She would need his guidance. "I believe we are to meet Muad and Derek in the south gardens. A new memorial was erected in honor of those who lost their lives in the Rylothi conflict. They are paying their respects."​

​

Part of the man had wished to have remained on Thyferra. This would be the first time he had left his home since the day he had returned with the bodies of his wife and best friend. Ironic that his first trip would be to return to the planet where it had all occurred. He wished he could say this was wrong, but Daegon knew this was the right thing to do. Their presence was not only needed for this rejoining, but for the morale of the people, it was required. Sera would likely remind him of such, and yet Daegon still wanted to give her the option to remain.​

​

"Unless you do not feel up to it. There is nothing saying we cannot simply stay here."​

​

Her hand would have been in his arm by now regardless. He craved her touch more now than he had before. She would also not need to answer as Daegon began to move them toward the exit of the guest suite Muad had arranged for them. If she truly wanted to stay behind it would only take one word and the Demon would obey the command of his Angel.​

 

[John Locke]

​

Location: The monument
Tagging: Lesya Kosarev | Open
Wearing: This

There were some places in the galaxy that exuded brightness and joy, that you only had to walk into to feel the happiness and wonder of the place wrapping around you like a warm blanket. There were other places that were born of the dark, where you could almost smell the death and misery that permeated the air, the very fabric of reality in the space. And then there were the others, places not filled with the light or the dark but with something else. With sadness and despair.

This was such a place.

Thousands of lives had been lost that day, there was no denying it, there was no hiding from it. It had to be remembered, to be commemorated, to ensure that those lives wouldn't be forgotten. That they hadn't been spent in vain. The Confederacy would remember it's failures, it would safeguard its citizens from further pain and loss, it had moved mountains and performed miracles on Rodia, ensuring that not one citizen was left behind. Not one citizen had been left behind to suffer while they hunter the terrorists. The Confederacy had learned its lesson from its failure.

From his failure.

He hadn't been on Ryloth when the dome failed, hadn't been there to help protect the civilians as terrorists born of their own had ripped through them. He hadn't even been able to protect his diplomatic party from the pain of that day.

Dark eyes dropped down to stare at the Exarch's pin resting in his hand, the shiny metal catching the light. He'd been so proud of it, the day the Vicelord had pinned it to his chest, the day he'd promoted him. John had stood in the same room as kings and queens, presidents and Emperors and forced them to treat him as an equal. That had been different though, it was raising him to be an equal, a recognition of his work, his efforts and recognition. It was expectation and acceptance. It had been heady, that feeling but...but now.

Joy and expectation had shifted into something else, into the weight of responsibility and pressure. A responsibility he'd failed at. It Exarch Talon had been there no doubt she'd have seen through it, She'd have been able to stop the travesty that occurred with a wave of her hand. No-one would have even attempted an act like that if the Vicelord himself had been in the room. John had been so excited to show his worth, to prove that he deserved to stand beside such august personages...well he'd screwed that one right up.

Instead of proving his worth, he'd managed to get an innocent hurt and let the terrorists getaway. John knew that he was expected up at the party, that all the dignitaries should show their faces and be seen there...only how could he? How could he show his face when the failure had been his? He hadn't managed to get anything right, didn't know why the Vicelord hadn't stripped him of his rank and kicked him out.

Thousands lost, a monument to the lost and his failure. The cyborg bowed his head, letting the pin slip into his pocket before his hands followed suit. Maybe one day he'd be worthy of wearing that pin while standing here. Maybe one day he'd have earned their forgiveness. But today wasn't that day.

 

[Seraphina Corvinus]

Tag: Derek Dib | Muad Dib
Walking With: Daegon Corvinus
Wearing: XOXO

_______________________________________​

PAST TENSE - Memory 1.190 [Post Olanet]

Emerging from the bacta tank of Thyferra was not unlike being born.​

​

Air filled her lungs and ambient sound crashed into her body so hard that it left her reeling. The tank had served to muffle anything, everything, leaving her feeling as if she’d been buried beneath the earth or trapped in an impenetrable aquarium. The feeling of air on her skin was almost too much. She felt raw. Confused. Where was she? “Daegon?”, Seraphina rasped brokenly, searching, with blind hands.​

​

Blind. ​

​

She blinked. Her eyes were open. Where was the light? Her heart began to race as a chilling panic began to set in. Clumsy arms wrapped around a frail body while an aching set of wings followed. She was afraid. Was it night? When had the night on Thyferra become so absolute? Just as she began to shiver and her teeth started to audibly chatter, she felt a towel wrap around her torso. Someone pulled her close. Careful, of her wings. A familiar scent hit her nose. Familiar warmth.​

​

Daegon. ​

​

The little diathim began to weep in earnest.​

​

It was a soft sound. Barely discernable from the sound of the bacta tank draining. Ryloth. Olanet. Derek…Oh, Derek. No. Please, no. The last few memories she had painted a terrible nightmare. It was a darkness of which she could never wake, never escape, and sightless eyes rose to search for her husband.​

​

“Daegon…I…I can’t see.”​

_______________________________________​

Present Day

The soft sound of chandelier earrings rang in her head in a delicate chime. Seraphina wondered idly what they looked like. The fabric that she wore felt very soft. The slender female was slowly growing accustomed to other people doing things for her. Dressing her. Doing her hair. Ensuring that her flatware was ordered in the same place so that she could find it easily. Were it not for Daegon she would have likely fallen into despair long ago. She could no longer read. No longer write.​

​

She could no longer read sheet music. The diathim could only play the songs she remembered. The fact that she couldn’t record them and create something of it left her feeling bereft. She could no longer see the colors of their world. The people they cared for.​

​

The young royal waved off the attendants that fussed over her gently when she heard Daegon utter a word of curse. Her head turned toward him, but still, she saw nothing. Just emptiness. The Agents of Chaos and their ilk had done so much evil in such a short amount of time. They had murdered. Set up a killing floor, a playground of death, with the target of impressionable youths ripe for seduction by extremist propaganda. They promised freedom. The delivery?​

​

Sorrow. Endless, sorrow.​

​

Her heart broke anew when she accepted the current reality for the hundredth time. As much as she wanted to, wished to, she could only hear Daegon. She couldn’t see her husband's face.​

​

“I am ready.” ​

​

Her voice was melodic as always, but, there was a tinge to it that betrayed the brave face she wore. Sera reached out and took Daegon’s arm. Her touch was tentative at first, but eventually, she melded into his side as if she had always been there. Made to be there. Her demon was changed in the last war. He was full of fury and remorse. Guilt. He couldn’t destroy the wolf who had shattered her spine. Broken her wings. Taken her sight. He wanted to avenge her. Both her—And Derek.​

​

She smoothed the front of her dress down with her free hand in a habit. A half step took her to stand just before the Viceroy of Thyferra so she could wrap her arms around him. Her back was bare so that her wings would be able to come forth without distress. She had not mastered hiding them as well as she used to since Olanet. She pressed her cheek to the expensive material of his suit over his heart and stole the moment. Chocolate curls cascaded from a carefully crafted chignon in such a way that her dark locks looked like a molten waterfall. Everything about her seemed as soft, sweet, and angelic as her namesake. “I am worried, husband.” ​

​

Seraphina had thoroughly been against bringing Derek back to his position so quickly. He was not himself. At least, not entirely. Her eyes did not see—But she could hear and feel. “Things are not as they were. We have enemies that know exactly where we live. Where our weaknesses lie. Will he be safe here?” ​

​

Safe, without them.​

​

The Agents knew what weakened the Confederacy. Targeting their people. Using their mercy against them. Now, there would be none. Sera fell still for a moment went Daegon asked if she wanted to stay behind. How could she not? She was deformed. Damaged. No longer fit for her duties, for her station, nor for the affection that Daegon Corvinus saw suitable to bestow. How could she be an effective wife or partner when she could not see?​

​

Seraphina was ashamed. Did you want to stay behind?​

​

Yes. ​

​

They could not. Sera hadn’t come to this system again so soon for anyone but the man they were set to meet at the memorial. Derek needed support. She wouldn’t have it any other way. “We can’t leave him now. Not now. Not in the dark.”, she murmured sweetly, ever gentle, while allowing Daegon to lead her. The soft fabric of her gown trailed behind her while the rose quartz in her earrings caught the light. The dark crimson blindfold that had been secured and expertly woven back into her hairstyle was the only sign that something was amiss.​

​

Seraphina had aimed to save Derek. Instead—She’d failed. He’d lost pieces of himself and it was all because she’d moved too slow. Or moved at all. He tried to save her instead of saving himself. It was her fault. Her thin jaw tightened just slightly while she held tight to the Viceroy of Thyferra.​

​

He didn’t know what she knew. The blindfold that hid her sightless eyes was a stigma.​

​

It was a symbol of her disgrace. ​

 

[Rann Thress]

. . .​

Tags: Open
Wearing: This
Location: Memorial​

Rann stood at the Memorial to the Lost with a helmet in his hand. A helmet like the one he wore on Ryloth. It wasn't the same one, surely. That one was, as far as Rann knew, still in a pile of rubble on Ryloth. He was sure that for all their boisterous comments and politically charged statements about the evils of the Confederacy, they've yet to actually dedicate any amount of resources towards the rebuilding of the Capital City. So it wasn't hard to imagine that the helmet lay where he left it. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if his arm was still there too. Although it probably became Lylek food after the retreat. Much like any non-Twi'lek citizen remaining in the city.

He scowled at the helmet.

"You know, helmet. You're the closest thing to an object of my failure that I can damage and not end up damaging myself." He spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, and looked down to his right arm, then back to the helmet. He tried not to disturb any of the mourners around him.
The helmet mocked him. It was pristine, whereas his was cracked, scratched, dented and bloodied.

Rann didn't try to hide his disappointment to finding out they wouldn't be re-taking Ryloth by force, at least not yet. He wanted his revenge, and the AoC hadn't given it to him.

He understood why, but he didn't like it. He knew if he were on the ground at Ryloth he'd... do things he'd regret. He'd see the enemy in the face of every Twi'lek. Loyal to the Confederacy or not.

He remembered the day. Founder's Day. It was a nightmare now. A distant, bitter memory. One he relived often. Now more than ever, seeing the faces of the dead or missing. The grieving families gathered to mourn, and him with his helmet. He placed the helmet down on the memorial and turned to leave. He was taking up space meant for the grieving, of which he was not apart.

He wasn't grieving. He wasn't sad. He wasn't mourning. He was angry. He was always angry.

​

 

[Lesya Kosarev]

​

Wearing: [X]​

Tags: John Locke | Open​

​

Lesya stood beside but slightly behind John Locke she knew well the extent of the man now, she knew he would be blaming himself for Siskeen when in truth the blame lied squarely at the agents of chaos feet. All they had need done was surrender and all the death and destruction could have been avoided but people were not after all rational beings. Siskeen at the same time was her own failure as well the Exarch had been protected yes but there was still a price paid in Derek Dib and Seraphina Corvinus perhaps if she had moved sooner, perhaps if she had rushed the Agents as opposed to attempting to stop their escape perhaps then at least some of the damage could have been mitigated, and some of the hurt spared.​

​

Unbeknownst to her, a gentle sigh escaped the lips of the white-haired woman, a telling break of the control that Lesya kept over herself and her emotions. While she was more machine than human at this point it did not mean she could not still feel, and palpable as it was one did not need the force to sense the pain from all those around her she wanted to help them all but in truth, she didn't know how and she didn't know if she even could so all she could do is stand next to John in silence and wait for him to move perhaps more so it was the pain she felt from John, she didn't really know but he did have a habit of carrying weight he did not need to carry, that she knew all too well it was that that prompted her words.​

​

She spoke softly and low to him "...There was nothing more to be done you know. There is only so much one can do in a split second, choices are made and events set into motion not just by your choices and actions but by the choices of many." her green eyes moved over to watch his reaction to her speaking he knew how to calculate the variables just like she did, she could speak in a language few others could perhaps, with the cold calculus of a machine yet with the feelings of a human. It could be uncomfortable at times, very much so why add the weight of things you cannot change.​

 

[Eenia Vahn]

​

Attire: [xxx]
Tags: | Open |
Near: | John Locke | Lesya Kosarev |

-----------------------------------

If there was one thing that Eenia understood, it was loss. She understood loss better than anything else, any other emotion or suffrage. At one time, she had been overrun by loss, driven by it, possessed by it, even. Loss had taken her down a dark path, had driven her to do things that she never would have thought herself capable of. Loss had ripped Nia and her sister apart - which had ultimately been done by the younger sister's hand due to such darkened emotions. By no, Eenia had no idea where Anora was, and that was a loss she continued to suffer every day. But it had not been the loss of her sister that had driven her to such lengths, to perform such heinous and traitorous acts.

Loss was a hard thing to swallow.

So it had been far too natural for the blonde Vahn sister to find and make her way to the memorial that had been set up. How many other people had suffered the depths of loss equal to or even greater than her own? How many people had lost loved ones, family and friends, children? No one liked to think about those such things, especially when it came to the lives of young and innocents, but it was a harsh reality. Stress, fear, violence...there were too many contributing factors that could lead to the loss of such innocent life, and that thought alone caused Eenia to run a hand against the flat of her belly and frown as she stared at the memorial.

The physical scars were healed, but emotional scars were still ever present, roiling beneath the surface and waiting to drag her back into the depths of darkness. But, this had been why she had needed to get a new start. This was why she had left her previous life and found sanctuary among those of the Confederacy. A drastic change, to be sure, but it had benefit her thus far. And that made her exhale slowly and pry her gaze away from the memorial to instead look around at those nearby.

Just in time to catch a snippet of conversation, no less. "The choices made by many would often benefit more if they would listen to the words of the few." she stated, without even considering the fact that she had butted into a conversation that was not meant for her. Which in turn made her blink rapidly for just a moment, then flush pink as she looked away from the pair. "Sorry...I didn't mean to listen in..."

 

[Derek Dib]

Location: The monuments on the south palatial lawn
Tags: Daegon Corvinus Seraphina Corvinus ,OPEN

With the first hint of light he screamed. Something smothered his face attempting to stop the breath from entering his lungs. Arms raised ready to fight off his attacker but it was too late. His wrists were encumbered on either side as he fought ferociously against the great weight pressing ever so strongly upon his chest. He tried to kick but that too was thought of. He was restrained as oxygen deprived his body. The cold of death slipped down his throat as his cries of resistance grew weaker. Eyes blinked blindly at the murky mist that cloaked his vision.

Everyone says you see a light at the end. They lie. All the man could see was ill defined forms and shadows as the clouded depths of hell embraced him like a chilled glove.

That was when he saw them. The eyes of a hellhound come to tear the remaining tethers to the physical world and drag his soul to the abyss. Two eyes bright as a blue sky and as cold as the Azul Glaciers on Hoth.

The beast of the abyss must have surely torn who the man once was from his mind, for all he knew was this moment on the edge of the precipice, the agonizingly eternal moment when the mortal finally surrenders to the supernatural.

Time slowed with the fading beat of his heart. Life was precious, yet, somehow he knew he sacrificed all he once possessed upon the altar of his life. Shadows of unknown figures danced across his vision, unseen but felt at his core. In that moment he understood the choices made, sacrifices offered, memory he couldn’t quite conceptualize, all of it were offered up for ideals and morals. A worthy sacrifice. Or would have been if he could recall just a single memory.

The blue eyes blazed brighter and a spark of life burrowed into the man’s chest. Power and vitality surged through him. And at the center was a rage of insanity so purely undefiled it was beautiful and frightening simultaneously. Power flowed into his limbs, warmth returning with every determined beat of his heart. He released a bellow of fervent, primal release as the bonds tethering him melted away and the force attempting to smother him washed away. Even as the roar escaped cracks appeared in his murky vision which spiderwebbed into thousands or funaway veins.

And it exploded.

The imploding bacta tank launched the viscous liquid in a shower across the room as the dark haired man fell free from restraints scorched. Before the kneeling form of the man who escaped the tank were those damnable blue eyes watching with a hunger that found an echo within his own breast. And as the two men gripped one another’s shoulders, blue eyes met crimson as red and blue flames swirled about the pair in the room to wash away all in a baptism of purple flame as the two became one.

NOW …​

He swayed momentarily on his feet. Then Muad leaned against him to steady the Viceroy of Siskeen. Here he was, looking upon a shrine of himself. The height of arrogance and pride. He was neither as perfect as the towering statue nor as peaceful. The form of himself looked down mockingly, belittling who and what he had become. When they arrived even they would turn from him.

His lids closed against the fevered eyes as he sought to remember who. Who in the seven rings of hell was coming? He should know and he didn’t. His brow creased as he tried vainly to recall this pair that meant something to him. And try as he might the knowledge danced away just out of his grasp. Eyes flickered open to behold the calm and collected visage of himself. From another life. One where he was in control. One in which he was whole. One in which he needed no help as though he was an invalid. One that smugly looked as though he held the power of knowledge and arrogantly refused to share.

His hand swept over Muad’s belt as he stepped forward, his thumb finding the activation stud that launched the ruby red lightsaber into existence. Violently and with wild abandon he desecrated the statue of himself with powerful strokes made in smooth grace. Swiftly he sliced the statue to pieces of ruined onyx before he slowed and turned sideways, his blue eyed brother watching silently with hands merely crossed over his chest.

The rage burned within. The injustice that an insane psychopath could stand in good health and he who always strived for balance burned in a sea of forgetfulness and fiery nerves that screamed with the shrill voice of migraines. He took only a single step in advancement toward Muad before a wave of exhaustion washed over him, revelation flowing in the wake.

His brother took the hilt from his limp hand as the blade was extinguished, an arm wrapped about his shoulders with care as though he was frail. The desecrated image lay in a rubble of ruin, an image that matched the viceroy as memory slammed into him. His failure to save his friend from a fatal wound. The roar of pain that echoed in the force with enough strength that even the nearly dead Derek could feel the absolute anguish and despair that tore at the soul of Daegon. He had failed them both and, despite this, the two managed to salvage his life. His life existed through the sacrifice of his two closest friends, and the price was more than he could bear. A tear welled in his eyes and followed a lonely track down his cheek at the ruin his presence brought to House Corvinus.

 

[Daegon Corvinus]

​

WEARING: xxx
TAG: Seraphina Corvinus | Derek Dib | Muad Dib

Past Memory -- Thyferra​

​

Neither of them had known he left their said to travel to Rodia. How foolish a venture it had been. Deagon should have known that Alwine would have done everything in her power to escape the justice which her actions demanded she face. Clenched teeth matches the fist which pounded on the desk. One of them should have been ready to come out, the healing formula should have worked faster. The Viceroy was a disheveled mess of what he had once been. The perfection he attire boasted was no longer present, not when every waking thought was never where his work or the people needed it to be.​

​

As though fate itself could feel his frustration, an alarm rang. Blue eyes flicked to the screen. Seraphina was waking up, and her tank was emptying.​

​

The Demon rushed to be by his bride's side. He did not care whether she would still be slick with the liquid she had been encased in for some time. All he could think was that she would finally be in his embrace once again. It had been far too long since he had felt her touch, or heard her voice. Nothing would rob him of the joy this reunion would bring.​

​

He pulled her close, the frail hands of her petite form reaching for him. She was complaining, yet the voice still carried the melody he had missed. It was enough to melt him as she melted into him.​

​

"Shhhhhh," he calmed her, "It is from the hibernation. Soon my most precious. You will see again soon."​

​

​

The Present​

But she didn't...​

​

A sigh escaped the Demon's lips as the sorrow of his Angel's voice reached his ears. Had he been so selfish to save the one he loved only to doom her to a life of darkness and anguish. Derek had also been left changed. Neither of the same since that day. They lived, and every breath they took was a reminder of how Daegon had failed to protect what was his. Their lives, their care and wellbeing, it was his burden to bear, and one he would until he could right every wrong his decisions had made. Daegon had meant to save her from the misery Seraphina now knew.​

​

“I am ready.” ​

​

Her words said one thing, and the tone of her song said another. They both knew that duty demanded they face the crowd. Did they both wish to hide, yes, but for different reasons. How could Daegon put a smile on his face and parade the living in front of all Olanet when he felt so ashamed? He was not ashamed of those he loved, no, it was the shame of his failure which weighed so heavily on him. Daegon was wicked, but he was honest, and today required that he do the one thing he hated most about politics.​

​

Today Daegon would wear a mask.​

​

She reached for him, unsure of where he was. The hesitancy, the searching gesture, became more confident as Seraphina found the offered arm. Soon everything was as it should be. Sera was at his side. Daegon could feel her, sense her, smell the perfume she wore. It was always the same scent, the one she wore on their wedding day. Daegon had insisted she never change it, and she had not.​

​

"I am worried, husband... will he be safe here?"​

​

So typical of his wife. Here she had no sight and he concern was for their friend, for Derek. It brought a smile to Daegon's face knowing there were parts of his lover which would never change. Her compassion was one of those things, a feeling and sentiment Daegon was unable to offer anyone, except for the Angel on his arm.​

​

Her concern was not misplaced. Daegon often wondered if this was the right move as well. The galactic chess match which was being played by the Confederacy was one Daegon did not control. He did not sit high enough to see all the pieces, and he cursed himself for it. The people of Theyferra would pay the price. Derek already had along with Seraphina. Siskeen and Ryloth had been made pawns in a game that Daegon was not sure was worth playing. He needed to see more. Daegon needed to be higher.​

​

Viceroy was no longer enough to keep the one he loved safe.​

​

"Muad will see to it that he is," Daegon shared.​

​

Muad. A new player in the game. Seraphina had not met him yet, not formally. Daegon had been doing his best to hide his scar from her. Though the Demon was convinced she already knew it existed. How was he to explain this blood pact to her? She would not approve, nor would she be happy that he allied himself with a madman. Daegon had been left different however. His love for Seraphina had not wavered, but he was darker now. Daegon had embraced the parts Sera had held at bay for so long. The only question that remained was whether her presence would be enough to push them back.​

​

"We shall not leave him to the darkness, my love. He needs us, yes, as you need me. Do not be so concerned for the plight of others that you forget to let me love you. There are your own needs we must see to as well, deals to be made with the Jedi to remedy my mistake."​

​

It was not the first time Daegon had vocalized the need to carry the blame for what happened on Siskeen. As they walked toward the gardens, Daegon simply said it once more. Perhaps he would have said more had it not been for the violent outburst he witnessed from Derek as they approached.​

​

Daegon sighed once more as his eyes moved to Muad. It seemed both of them had their burdens to bear.​

​

"Do you find your face to be that repulsive, my friend," Daegon said attempting to lighten the mood for all of them. "I had always thought you were quite handsome. Come now, Derek, let them celebrate you today. Siskeen needs this. Tomorrow all of us can return to our self-loathing and quests for revenge."​

​

For that was what it was, pure and simple.​

​

REVENGE.​

 

[Nimue]

W E A R I N G | [x] - [x]
T A G S | Aries Creed
​

Nimue rested one of her arms loosely against Aries’ as they walked up a marble path toward the palace. In truth she loathed being there, for the exact same reasons Aries likely did. This was neither their war, nor their celebration. As far as she could recall, neither of them had taken part in what had occurred on Siskeen, or Ryloth. Nimue could not even honestly admit that she cared much about the backwater planet, or its loss or gain of whatever title or freedoms they demanded. ​

In fact, she felt rather perplexed by the Confederacy’s instatance on spending so much time on places that hardly even mattered. She had discussed it at length with Aries before they had even landed their ship.​

However, that was just her way, and for some reason her way these past few weeks she had been particularly irritable. ​

“I hope this isn’t as boring as all the other celebrations you’ve forced me to attend.” Nimue cast a sideways glance at Aries. “Whenever we do something like this people seem to think that I want to talk to them, or that I’m interested in the petty politics the Galaxy plays at.” It seemed today the High Priestess was especially irritable, but she had still dressed herself in all the finery one expected of a celebration such as this. She had still placed her arm in Aries’ and drawn herself closer to him affectionately as they strolled toward soft music and the low rumble of a heavy crowd.​

“What do you make of it all?” She spoke, in general, of the wars that had so readily blossomed in the hearts of mortals. Aries had experienced them all already, or at least something like them. Nimue had only seen glimpses of them in visions, and had only been able to give Adron enough advice to ensure that Illyria had not fallen in the midst of them. It was something that irked her to no end.​

 

[Aries Creed]

The Prince of Illyria escorted Nimue with a curios thought. She had certainly been in a mood this past week. Generally speaking the High priestess was a realist, practical, and especially curt to those she was not knowledgeable of. In short, she did not spare words where they were unnecessary. This was never something that bothered Aries. In fact, he particularly enjoyed that about Nimue. In her own way she was just like royalty, her time was more valuable than the emotions of others. Yet, something was different and he could not put his finger on it. Yet, he enjoyed her presence all the same. As she walked alongside him he couldn't help but laugh at the words she spoke. "Why do you think I drink so much?" He remarked.

"I've never understood why the Confederacy feels the need to entertain every one of these celebrations. Even my Father thought it was ridiculous and he actually enjoyed the damned things." As they moved towards the dance area, Aries took Nimue's hand into his own and brought her in close to his chest. He didn't say anything for a moment as he pulled her into a dance. Aries' steps were slow and paced, easy to keep up with as he listened to Nimue's words. He considered his answer for a moment, unsure of what to tell her.

"War does not impress me." He said shortly. His tone was low and something more considerate than usual. He pulled Nimue just a bit closer as he spoke softly. "My family is fascinated with it and it is just not impressive. It's not new or showing ingenuity, it doesn't have anything special, it's the same it has always been." The War Aries had experienced had been different. He'd lost so much in those wars to the point where this new reality was more than he could hope for. He turned his eyes to Nimue for a moment before arching a brow. "But like I said, these times are different. The Great War seems to have passed without igniting into something more yet...I still sense that same feeling, that same madness that gripped the galaxy." He muttered, before chuckling softly to himself. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling again."

Nimue

 

[Shae]

O b j e c t i v e | Dance with Me
W e a r i n g | [x]
T a g s | Aravae

Scarlet wine swirled idly in time to the gentle cadence of the orchestra, lapping dangerously close to the tempered crystalline edges. A crowd of people twirled in perfect circles in the center of a polished stone floor, forming a remarkably entrancing cacophony of brightly coloured material and bright, beaming faces. To some, a marvelous and grandiose sight, but to Shae?​

​

She had seen it all before.​

​

The time where feigning interest in conversations of trade and stock markets had long since passed. After all, she was often hired in the same way one would hire fine jewelry for a Lady. A thing of beauty and admiration, a thing to be gawped at and coveted, but nothing more. It was a very rare occurrence to find a client who valued her opinion just as much as her other assets, but that didn’t matter much to Shae. As long as their credits kept flowing. However, it very often meant she was left dwindling on someone’s arm, free to listen but not free to input. Which grew to be very tiring. Very quickly.​

​

Her eyes drifted across the crowds, more interested in the way her wine spiralled at the bottom of her glass than anything, but even that had grown tedious. Just as she had summoned the energy to excuse herself for a few moments, a flash of something familiar snagged her attention. Shae narrowed her eyes, leaning on the tip of her heeled shoes to catch a better glimpse of what it was. No, Shae mused to herself, it couldn’t have been? A haze of a memory flickered into view. A lavish court, a beautiful young woman in shimmering grey dress, the warmth of a passionate friendship.​

​

“Aravae?” She asked of the silvery white hair that passed her by in a flurry. With her client distracted by dull conversation, Shae was free to slip away from the group to give the woman chase. What followed was an infuriating few moments of slipping and winding wildly between tightly knitted groups, coupled with a slurry of excuse me, sir and pardon me, ma’am. All she could see of the woman was the occasional flicker of snow white disappearing behind gangly bodies, but she was so close now…​

​

Shae reached out, fingers stretching out to gently grasp at the all too familiar arm. “Aravae?” Now with the woman caught, she was free to walk the few steps it took to gaze properly at her face. It had been so long since they saw each other last, and much to Shae's dismay, it was hard to truly tell. “Is that you?” If it wasn’t, Shae would have to be mortified later. After all the trouble she had gone through to catch up to her, it would have been soul crushing. ​

 

[Aravae]

Objective: | Dance With Me |
Attire: [X]
Tag: | Shae |

---------------------------------

Being away from home had it's setbacks to be certain. She missed the luxuries, the dressing up on occasion, the parties, and the food. Oh good Gods above how she missed the food from home. But more than that, Aravae missed the socialization with friends and family. So when word had reached her about this ordeal happening on Siskeen, she had felt badly for what it stood for but...there was a celebration to be had! Some place that allowed for her to dress up, and disappear into the crowd. A place where she wouldn't be easily recognizable - if at all! - and she could still dress up and attend a gathering that had entertainment as well as other things going on.

So she had gone, and she had dressed up for the occasion. Naturally not her most formal wear, but its not as if she had any of her gowns on hand considering she was still on the run from home. But arriving among the crowds on Siskeen had been exactly the sort of thing that Aravae had needed. The reprieve from hiding, from constantly moving. She wanted to be able to explore and see things, not just wave at them in passing as she ran through or by. So this was so much better than anything else she had come across or experienced thus far.

But admittedly? She was hungry, and it was this very thing that had her delicately squeezing her way through the crowd after a time of watching the dancers in their flawless performance. At one point she had thought her name had been called; the noise cause one of her tipped ears to flick, but there was nothing more than that so she pressed on. Yet the further the went, the more it felt as if she was being followed, and that was a sensation Ava knew all too well.

There was no glancing behind herself, no panic or quickening of her steps, though the petite framed woman did cut through more people than was necessary. Was it paranoia? Perhaps, but Aravae had learned to trust her gut, and so she continued to move - though it seemed she hadn't been clever enough. Her arm was grasped and it caused a gasp to hitch in the royal's throat, but...her name was also used. That had her gaze sweeping quickly from the hand on her arm to the face of this person, and both of Ava's eyes widened.

"Shae..." it wasn't a question, Ava recognized her friend. That envy inducing beauty, the way she carried herself, and that voice the princess had spent hours listening to over both trivial and not things. "What are you doing here?" Ha! As if Ava had room to ask such a question.

 

[Nimue]

W E A R I N G | [x] - [x]
T A G S | Tags Here​

Despite her sour mood, Nimue could not help but laugh. “I do.” She responded, with the giggle still mixed into her words. “And I also see how people come to rely on it so much.”​

Of course, Nimue had been tutored in all manner of courtly things, dancing being high amongst them. The Silmä had to be practiced, though their invitations to anything to do with the royalty were few and far between. Her step easily, and naturally, fell into sync with Aries’. At his comment on the need to entertain it all, Nimue shrugged. “I neither understand nor entertain it. I see the need to bestow attention upon those who can provide something useful but beyond that…” Nimue rolled her eyes somewhat. “It’s a waste of resources, and energy, and precious time.” ​

She watched his musing face with something akin to adoration. In the time they had known each other he had gone from brutal and blunt answers that mirrored his father’s views, to considering. Carefully. Of his own experiences and opinions. It was something Nimue found herself admiring him for. “I can only imagine.” The High Priestess commented on his family. “Your father’s side has a long history of dabbling in politics, both worldly and galactic. It is a true wander to watch families with so much history fall so easily into the same eternal routine.” Nodding softly at what he next said, particularly regarding the difference between the two realities he now lived in. ​

There were differences even she was unaware of, but ever since his arrival the oracle had blessed her with glimpses. Aries had shared what little he was willing. Slowly, but surely, a picture of a different reality was forming. Nimue was not impressed by it. ​

Aries’ soft mutter caused her to focus again. Casting him a teasing grin, she shook her head. “You have far to go if you consider intelligent conversation rambling.” As her amusement died down, her gaze trailed from his face to the finely stitched shirt covering his chest. For a split second, her lips parted, as if there was something she wanted to say. But they closed almost as quickly as they had opened. ​

Instead, she drew herself closer, resting her head on his chest where she could feel the steady thump of his heart.​

 

[Shae]

O b j e c t i v e | Dance with Me
W e a r i n g | [x]
T a g s | Aravae

The glimmer of recognition in her eye was all Shae needed. It was Ava. Her sultry mask worn for time spent with clients melted away immediately, replaced with something that looked strange on a half epicanthix’s features.

Shae took a step back to take her friend in properly, a vibrant emerald gaze drinking in all they dared. Aravae was still just as radiant as they day they had met. She had an almost angelic quality to her that Shae had always been completely in awe of. A beaming smile brought her crimson painted lips up into an incredulous grin. “What are yo-...” Shae stopped herself as the words spilled out in tandem with Aravae’s. Instead of answering, Shae stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Aravae, squeezing her as firmly as her slender arms would allow.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Her melodic tone enthused in her ear. “It has been far too long.”

When she broke the embrace, it was only to take Ava by the hand, tugging her gently through the thick of the crowd and out toward a balcony. Where the only thing they had to contend was the gentle rustle of the wind bristling through the leaves, and the soft muted music that drifted through the closed doors. After the telltale click of the door in its frame, Shae felt free to answer Ava’s question. “Work.” Her soft lips turned up into what could only be described as a telling expression. What else would she be doing here? Not much had changed for Shae in the years they had spent apart, but Ava…

A softer tone flitted from Shae’s lips, filled with concern, though she couldn’t rightly say why. “You’re not at home? What happened?” She hadn’t meant for it to sound like she assumed something was wrong, but it had unfortunately slipped out that way. Shae remembered someone who was enamoured by her home, by the people, by her responsibilities and her duties there. Something Shae had never fully understood, but something she admired Ava for greatly.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

​

Location: Palace, Pristine City, Olanet

Remembrance. Regret. Renewal. It was the focus of what occurred here. Now. People that gathered in celebration of some semblance of normalcy. The United Siskeen Coalition had turned inward for a time, but now looked out once more to the stars. Not in need of help. Not because they were weak. Because they were strong. They endured. Trials which not all could say they'd weathered as well, which some in attendance reflected upon heavily before a monument in their honor.

Nightmother Vytal Noctura of the Solanaceae, whose primary Covenstead stood upon Ryloth in a nearby star system, had also come to Olanet. Not to dwell on the past or on their loss -- she had reached out to the souls of the departed on Fennesa. No, the pale Witch was here for a different purpose altogether.

If the secured meetings were held in the great chamber in which Derek Dib and Seraphina Corvinus had suffered, Vytal would walk between the realms of the Living and the Dead to go unseen among them. Their words mattered not to the Witch. She was not here to spy on one's speech or listen to hushed whispers as negotiations were held. Her purpose was singular in nature and of more import than the banter of diplomats.

Some rightfully believed resurrection the dead was one of the Witch's greatest powers. It certain should not be taken lightly; it was a dangerous and strenuous Art. It tempted fate like few others could. Today, the Nightmother would take that next step to tempt fate that much further.

It only took a few moments for her to find the precise place within the room. Yes, the very planet itself had changed positions, and much work had been done in the after the math -- they would not leave their palace besmirched by flame and blood as it had been. Yet distance did not matter when it came to matters of the soul. The universe itself may have just as well have stood still. More accurately, the essence of a moent was fastened not to a point in space, but to a Crossroads.

Crossroads were a location or a place defined by those that were Living. They often took the form of a building or a room; a clearly defined location in the hearts and minds of those that had borne witness to the origin, or knew of it from legend. This great chamber where many met and a massive granite oval table sat was such a place. Perhaps for one reason before, and now for a far more recent one. It was where two lives had been radically altered.

Forever? Perhaps. Much of Living was temporal in nature. Even things that would seem permanent in nature.

What the future held did not concern the Witch. No, her green eyes were on the not-so-distant past.

Both hands were extended before Vytal now, with a large crystal held upon each palm. Slowly the crystals lifted into the air of their own accord and hovered to either sight of the pale woman. It was time.

 

[The Monster]

Wearing: Plain Dress Uniform (with this hat)
Location: Monument
Tag: Rann Thress , Open
​

Sergei had heard of the ceremonies that were happening on Siskeen. He'd known that there'd be many people present, and so under guise of offering security for the event, which he had most certainly deployed with TDW Security Forces, he would attend. His uniform was plain, having settled on a simple grey uniform with black accents with a cloth made mostly of synthetic cotton and polyester. On the uniform was a simple logo emblazoned of TDW, and a name plate with Sergei Jachovich on the opposite side. Sergei would walk through the city, keeping his posture upright and proud as he walked to his destination. He had a company to represent after all.

And for the first time in years, they were not just a small group of mercenaries known for their ability to fight and survive in even the harshest of battles, they were an entire paramilitary organization. They had full fledged security forces, civilian operations, and even a small company externally that designed, built and made its own money outside of TDW. Sergei had a lot of pride for what he'd built, but that pride came at a cost. A cost that today was being remembered.

The loss of an entire generation of some of the finest men and women Sergei had ever met, trained, fought next to, and shed blood with.

This wouldn't be the first loss either. His men had answered the call of the Silver Jedi Order, moving to their aid against the Bryn, testing their weapons and mettle against the would be invaders. His men had held the line against all odds, calling in orbital strikes and fire support to smash a numerically superior foe. They had engaged at long range with all the weapons they had, fought at close range to try and stave off the tide that was them trying overrun and murder all on the planet. Sergei had even been prepared to use the final strike protocol on the Bryn's main advance, a protocol that would have seen them all atomized. And yet, here he stood. People had performed great acts of heroism, violence, and courage in the name of the greater good. Sergei had seen the power the Jedi were capable of, and had come to respect it. They may not have had a standing army, but Sergei had promised them one thing. If they ever needed his services, he was but a call away.

So many lost. So many of his dead. Two entire generations of commandos gone. Sergei was past his grief now. Hope had an entire hall in their recreation area dedicated to his own. A wall that was filling up with new names all of the time. Most would look at the losses he'd sustained, how he personally knew each and every one lost, how he'd trained all of them, selected them personally. It was an impossible weight to carry.

And carry it he did.

The Ghost Company was now composed of the survivors of both generations. These were men and women who had survived when all others had perished. They were the ones who'd faced certain death, and where others fell, they instead fought and won. Normal Commandos in TDW were already some of the most terrifying soldiers in the galaxy, and then the Ghosts were a whole other breed apart. They had no equal, and as showcased in the defense against the Bryn, the only way they were matched was by overwhelming them with sheer numbers, which even then still didn't kill them all. They had literally mastered the art of being too determined to die. And Sergei was the leader of these men and women.

Sergei would approach the monument from the back of the small group that was here. He kept quiet, noting everyone that was there, and reaching into his pocket to retrieve something that he held in his pocket. A small tribute for the fallen. He was beyond grief now, or rage, or any emotions now. He came here to honor those that had sacrificed everything, both his own and others. Maybe one day someone would stop the cycle. TDW was trying to, and while they had certainly put a dent into those that would try to continue the cycle, his work was far from over.

 

[Aries Creed]

Their relationship was complicated and even in these moments it felt fresh and exhilarating. Nimue's soft skin was a new sensation to Aries. Well, relatively new. As they swayed in rhythm with the beat he was reminded that not all was bad with his displacement. He had come to terms that the galaxy that he was in could be no worse than the one he'd left. In fact, it was fast feeling better. In his old life he had been dogmatically crushed by the Princehood that laid before him. While he was every bit prepared to take up the mantle of King, it was a weight that came with certain inhibitions. When Aries had become displaced, the baby version of himself remained, meaning that the two could somehow exist in a parallel. That was a startling fact, but one that likely meant one thing.

He may never return to his time.

With Nimue held close in his arms and the soft music playing in the background there was no part of him that could tell the lie that this pained him. His mother and father were alive, The Confederacy was thriving, and most importantly Illyria was safe. What more could he ask for?

"You know. For so long in my life I've felt like I was pushing against the path that the Force sought to place me on. Maybe that is why it has gone so quiet to me now. But for the first time I'm ready. I'm ready to face what comes next and stand by my instincts and follow the path before me." He said, looking down to Nimue while holding her chin in his hand. "Especially if you a-"

His eyes met the beautiful orbs that Nimue held and he paused as if looking through the woman. Something seemed off. With a woman like Nimue this would simply never be. She had transcended the daily monotonous worries and discords for something more serene, more in control. So what now could pull her mind from the moment laid before them?

"Something is distracting you. You who is never distracted." He said simply, before leaning down to softly press his lips to hers. "What is it?"

Nimue