Night to Remember | CIS Dominion of Stewjon (S,50)

[Gerwald Lechner]

OBJECTIVE: Don't squash the tiny Van-Derveld
WEARING: This
POST: 5

Despite the crowd of bodies which pressed in on him, Gerwald still stood at least a head and shoulder above them all. He had a good vantage point even if his size kept him from squeezing through tight spaces. The drive to find the owner of the scent which had imprinted itself in his senses had taken over everything. All thought and reason were out of his mind, directing his decision to leave Stewjon even more than the use of the force had. As he pressed through the crowd the smell grew stronger. He was getting closer. The music, the laughter, all of it faded and was drowned in the one task, the discovery of the one who was like him.

Several people knocked into him as he made his way through the crowd, but it was the direct hit which stopped him in his tracks.

He looked down. The scent was strong.

Gerwald stumbled a bit as he was starting to feel the effect of the numerous drinks he had lost count of. The alcohol in his system was likely as much a driving force as the scent of the Lupine, which he imagined was standing in front of him.

She was looking for someone. Ger nodded at her apology, but then leaned in. His nose drew in a deep breath to take in her scent.

"YOU!"

His eyes settled on the sapphire orbs in her face. She was intoxicated, and so was he, though Gerwald managed a smile. Clearly he was not alone in the galaxy, aside from his mother and brothers, and to find another Lupine that was pretty. He shook his head briefly, the free flow of his long hair had managed to get in his face and had become annoying. He brushed it back with his fingers as well so that he could keep it out of his eyes.

"How is it that there are more... are you the only one, or..."

[member="Katrine Van-Derveld"]

 

[Asher Mossa]

The conversation seemed to be coming to a natural end. Asher could not have hoped for more. Her curiosity was something no one had shown in a long time, and while Asher put up a large barrier to keep people out, he appreciated her attempt. After all, Asher did need friends, and it was clear that was all [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] was trying to be, a friend. Still, when she asked about the ring, Asher pulled back into his shell slightly. The response was a natural one, it was a vulnerable thing even though he had used it as a reason to why he could not try.

"The ring belonged to my wife. I gave it to her on our wedding day. She is dead, and it is all I have left of her."

Asher would not be one quick to romance. He knew that his heart still ached for what had been stolen from him, but as long as it still held on to the past, he would never go forward. Some would say he needed to do something drastic to cut ties with the past, but he did not think that. All he needed to do was take Katrine's advice, and that was what he was going to do. Perhaps the music was finally getting to him, but he was in the mood to dance suddenly. Speaking the truth had been enough to lighten the burden in a way that he had not felt in a long time.

Lylek chastised him for holding onto it for so long. Asher simply shrugged.

When Katrine spoke next her voice had changed. The spirits joined with her as the promise was give. A simple nod was all that was given. Asher didn't need anything more for assurance. Something interupted them however. Kat was acting as though something was off, and in the same moment Asher felt someone bump into him. When he looked up, he saw her. Kat excused herself, and Asher didn't look away. He simply mumbled that it was okay, whether it was intelligible or not was of little consequence to him.

His mind flashed back to Relovian. The scene of their meeting played over and over again many times since that day, and seeing [member="Eirene"] there had brought it back. He chuckled at the sight of her friends pulling her toward the circle. From what he could gather this was her home. Information that he filed away for later use was needed. Asher didn't even have a name after all.

When Kat left, Asher stood. He was woozy. What had it been five mugs of mead? Asher wasn't sure, all he knew was that he was definitely drunk enough that he was likely headed for trouble. He had to meet her again though. Asher needed a name, and he wanted a way to see her again after the night was over.

The steps had started before he arrived, but as Asher watched them, he recognized the form. His people had a similar step for their celebrations. He smiled. For the first time in a while, Asher had found a group of people that reminded him of his own home as a child. Perhaps he needed to make a home on Stewjon, an escape for when he needed to get away from Ryloth. Asher watched and waited for the circle to bring Eirene to him, and as if exactly on cue, he stepped in to intercept her and join the dance.

"Tonight, I am going to keep you long enough to get a name. I saw your queen earlier and hoped you would be here."

Post 8

 

[Malok]

Warriors. Conquests. Battle.

The Vicelord could hardly contain his grin as the ale did its work. After leaping to her feet, [member="Anya Malvern"] had encouraged the Sith to fully consume his tankard in but a handful of hearty gulps. Then, his own flesh and blood quickly followed suit with his own tale. To say that Darth Metus was laughing harder than he had in years was an understatement. Then came the surprise. A feminine "boo!" damn near jolted the Vicelord out of his skin. He had become so enthralled with the stories that the mischeivous [member="Ahani Najwa"] was able to sneak up on him.

"Kad dammit Ahani!" he said, chuckling. Though his smile wavered when she stole his replacement tankard. Now bereft of any further intoxicants, Darth Metus gingerly leaned into the side of [member="Srina Talon"] whilst the ancient warrior bared her soul. This was a side of the Echani that he had never seen, truth be told. The whole of their relationship had been - honestly - a spiral of madness. During those long months years ago, a fractured man and a broken women found stability in one another's arms.

Darth Metus never truly got to know the warrior who boldly proclaimed her tale.

Ahani Najwa never truly got to know the glory-drunk warrior of the past.

When the now-empty tankard slammed into the table, the Sith found himself quieted for a moment. In one part due to the sudden departure of his apprentice: a wintery void was left in her wake. In one part due to the way Ahani's story made him think. It was mighty enough to make any warrior think of home. Think of years past. Think of where one came from. And in that moment, for the first time in literal decades, an old name found its way to the forefront of his mind.

As the ancient Echani seated herself down beside the Vicelord, he reached for a full tankard. He devoured a few swallows - the jovial expression wavering ever so slightly - before he replaced it upon the wood. A quick swipe of his hand wiped the excess moisture away.

"This both is and is not mine."

"This is the story about a man named Rigard. He was the finest warrior I ever knew. The man I looked up to the most, more than any Mand'alor or any other vode in the Clans."

"He was a man of valor. Of bravery. Of finding the biggest challenge he could and gunning it down until there was nothing left. Though he is long gone now, some of you would have known him as Uncle -" he paused, nodding to [member=Riggs] and [member="Anastasia Verd"]. "But I had the pleasure of knowing him as my eldest brother."

Darth Metus rose from his seat, tankard in hand. His gaze swept across the room. "It was a scouting mission to Taris. So many years ago that I was just a runt - no taller than an Ewok. I managed to stow away aboard his ship when the assignment was doled out. And looking back, on paper, the job was as easy as can be. Get in, see what we're up against, and get the kark out. When we arrived, Rigard didn't have a clue that I had holed up in the cargo hold. It was a cramped ride - but it was worth it to see my brother work."

He chuckled. The edges of his lips lifted in the beginnings of a smirk. "Our reports were dated - at the time, Mandalore was just coming out of the Darkness Quarantine. We didn't have a clue what was down there; thought it would be just your average gaggle of thugs. Sadly, that was not the case. When we landed, it was on one of the lowest levels of the capital city. It was deserted there. Quiet. Too quiet. So quiet that Rigard heard me shuffling around in the cargo hold."

"But by that time he had come too far to turn back and ordered me to stay on the ship. Like hell, right? I snuck out after he left. Found him leaned over a dead body."

"Poor sod looked like the life had been drained out of him. Didn't know at the time, but he had killed himself mid transformation. We had just landed in the middle of a Rakghoul swarm. The engines. The boots. The breathing. Heh, we woke up the Hive."

"Rigard fought like Hell. I couldn't count how many of those damn things came out of the woodwork. A kaddamn swarm. One by one that bastards came, and one by one he gunned them down. He made it look so easy. But he wasn't a God. He never so much as touched a lightsaber in all his life. By the time I yelled for him to watch out, it was too late. He got bit, right on the arm. But did he stop for a second? No. Kark no. He kept on shooting. He didn't stop until the whole pack of kaddamn monsters were dead at his feet."

"And then he took his tomahawk and chopped off his kaddamn arm. Just like that. Didn't go down in one clean slice either."

The Sith grimaced at the memory, punctuating it with a swig of his beverage.

"But that wasn't enough. He knew it. I was too dumb and too little to know that my brother was dead the second he stepped off that ship. He took off his helmet, handed it to me, and told me to get on the ship. Told me to make Mandalore proud. Then the ship took off on its own."

He shook his head. "That was the last time I ever saw Rigard Verd. Never found his armor nor a trace of him when I went back. But one thing's for damn sure - I burned every last Rakghoul I could get my karking hands on the next time I went to Taris. That's his story - the story of the greatest Mandalorian I've ever known. The story of the man whose boots I tried to fill for the best years of my life."

"And he's one of the two reasons I don't karking make Sithspawn." The Sith raised his tankard one last time, dumped out a little bit to honor the fallen, and took the rest down in a few gulps. When he had slammed the tankard on the table, he looked at Ahani and shook his head. "Damn you for making me remember, you butt." His tone said he was joking, but she knew him better than most.

[member="Ahani Najwa"], [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Anastasia Verd"], [member="Anya Malvern"], [member="Kip Ridel"], [member="Vyra Silara"], [member="Asher Mossa"], [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"], [member="Connor Harrison"], [member="Eladia Laux"], @Jasmine Zittoun, [member="Tha'ga Temi"], [member="Jorco Czeku"], [member="Er'in Tenel], @Sor-Jar Xantha, [member=Ra'a'mah], [member="Vulkanus"]

 

[Ascendant Muse]

C O N C L U S I O N​

​

There were many more stories to tell, and many more barrels of ale to chug through. The night on Stewjon was young - and yet one thing was very clear. The newest entrant within the Confederacy certainly knew how to throw a party! Whether one would recall the stories that were told in the morning or simply wake up with a Rancor-sized hangover remained to be seen. But one thing's for sure, this night had been one to remember!

As of this post, the Dominion is being submitted. Please feel free to continue your stories!​

 

[Ahani Najwa-Zambrano]

My story ends. Did I win? Is winning a long term goal, or the action of a single roll of dice or judge’s call? The glass in my hand is empty. It drops from my fingers and shatters on the floor. The man is back again, the one whose skin reminds me of [member="Darth Metus"].

Metus. [member="Srina Talon"] vacated her chair in an utter act of desperate longing and combat to keep her composure. Srina and I are both women, who long for a home which may exist. @Vulkanus’ eyes bore into me and I can’t decide if I like it. We lock gazes.

He is not one of the fog. He is one of the solid ones, one I see and hear and could probably feel if I’d ever touch him. Hands devoid of a receptacle for liquid, my lips quirk and I nod.

Yes, I would like another.

My mouth works, lips parting then closing as I catch the aroma of roasted meat and tubers cooked in herbs and oil. Sniffing at the air, my nose is assaulted by the beings in the room, but the scent of the food continues and I cling to the odour. My stomach burbles.

The hall is filled with fog.

I crawl from Srina Talon’s seat to the table, to curl up straddling Metus’ waist, my arms around his barrel chest. Pursed lips kiss his neck, his cheek. My forehead presses into his collarbone, and I cling.

Loss pours off us, these two wild, forlorn creatures. In our past, we were lovers, who chased our bodies to avoid the stories whispered in Stewjon. Addled wanderers.

My husbands are dead. My children, but Manu, are dead. I carried them, bore them, held them to my chest and they faded from me while the crystal kept us locked away. “We are beings above the fog, Isley Verd, tempered not by our times but the passage of them. What glory there is in death is the memory of it… Rigard found Manda, eh? He is now part of the guiding force of the universe, like Aran. Like my children Dalia, Yuca and Raya… Dalia was killed by her lover, while I raced to save Manu from his final battle with Raien. What grief for a mother to choose between one child and the other three… but Manu, ah! [member="Manu Xextos"] was the blessed child! The Force ran through his veins with such mercy it pulled me to him. I begged the universe for n ounce of his mercy and instead it gave me you. You asked for stories, Isley. You asked for dust to become corporeal and walk among us. Have we not known each other long enough now to reveal our quality?”

Sliding off his lap, the threads binding me to his presence in the fog begin to churl and snap.

“I am not mad,” I whisper in his ear, “I only require translation… you will know me no more until you are ready to die.”

Placing one last kiss on his temple, I back up until my back hits Vulkanus, and I stare up, up at his quizzical, immutable face. My lips smack, as I step up into the air and settle in a piggy back on his back, arms and legs wrapped around him. “One more drink… maybe another after that.”

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Stewjon [The Longhouse]
Wearing: This
Drunk Status: Stone Cold Sober
Tags: [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

“I have noticed that actually.”, Srina responded softly to the sandy-haired youngling, feeling the last vestiges of her irritation fade, disappearing like smoke on the wind. It was hard to remain indifferent and stoic when presented with such jubilant adolescence. His eyes were beacons. Bright, clear, and untouched by the war and chaos that ran rampantly through the galaxy. Was it a trick of the light? Willful ignorance? Or, was this boy simply that untouched? “I will keep that in mind the next time we require an upgrade. Many of our operations as you likely know revolve around Geonosis. Do you also provide services there?”

Somehow, she couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with a boy that still hadn’t experienced the concept of facial hair. He might have been animated and a free spirit, but he spoke like an adult, with knowledge that far exceeded that of a human child. More and more she wanted to reach out with the Force, to find out more, to discover what made him feel so different…But what reason did she really have to be so suspicious? An intelligent half-man giving her a sense of déjà vu? “My Master may enjoy an upgraded hologame platform. He enjoys playing a game with incredibly inaccurate weaponry and no true concept the time it takes to reload such a thing. I believe it to be called Manifest Destiny?”

“It’s horrid. When he kills the enemy…”, she trailed off, her nose wrinkling, completely incredulous. “A talking, disrespectful, ghost brings them back to life. They constantly respawn.”

Who in their right mind wanted to keep playing a game, with an enemy, which kept transcending death over and over? What was the point? It made her head spin to watch such an effort in futility. The rather extreme distaste she had for what Darth Metus referred to as ‘shooting practice’ was entirely lost on her the moment the half-pint offered her a fleet of battle droids. “Oh, my. The one thing I can tell you that the Confederacy is not lacking is battle droids. Perhaps, you should strike a deal in our commerce division? Exchange telecommunication services for custom battle droids?”

No, Srina did not have a star-destroyer. What Srina had was more pleasing, and far more precious, than any simple piece of bygone tech. She had a Ferocity. It was one of two in all existence, and by far, her favorite method of transport.

Sor-Jan confirmed that he had come to Stewjon alone. His initial reasoning caused the Echani to laugh, the sound rare, yet seemingly practiced. It was soft, airy, and reminiscent of silver bells. The rest of it almost made sense were it not for the fact that this youngster seemed to be entirely secure in his place within Corellia Digital. She opened mouth to respond, when a ruckus went up behind them, and she turned in time to see [member="Ahani Najwa"] seated quite comfortable in the lap of [member="Darth Metus"].

A singular eyebrow rose but she said nothing. Her Master would feel through his drunken haze, nothing. Only quiet.

“I…”, she began, turning back to the well-spoken young man, pausing only to take a seat at the low table along the wall. “I am a jack of all trades, however, I believe that my official place here is simply that of an Apprentice. I serve the Confederacy at the will of the Vicelord.”

Srina paused when a waitress stopped by to ask what they wanted to drink. To the green-skinned woman’s shock, Srina ordered only water, and whatever dessert they currently had on the menu. It seemed like some sort of fruit pie, but the frozen creamy confection in top sparkled, like fuel that had been spilled on permacrete. Prismatic, almost, a little like thinly wound pastel rainbows.

“Don’t make a lady eat alone. Please, order.”, the Echani encouraged Sor-Jan kindly. She slowly leaned back in the chair, finally, unable to help herself. If there was one thing about Srina Talon that she perceived to be a weakness it was her inability to let something go. Inquisitiveness felt almost as if it were written into her DNA, so carefully, that it matched the pieces of her code that made her skin fair and her hair white. “Forgive me…But I must ask…”

“How old are you?”

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Objective: Tipsy Probably Drunk; Running into [member="Gerwald Lechner"]
Wearing: This
Post: Eight

She might have been drunk, Katrine wouldn't know. She'd never been drunk before to know the difference. The blonde did know however that when she inhaled again, she felt the Lupine scent far stronger it had been before. Close as when she hugged brothers. Definitely that close. Which, now that she was looking at the mountain in front of suddenly brought some clarity or something like it. Not really but she sure thought so as the tall man suddenly opened his mouth and gave a simple: YOU.

Yep, definitely a Lupine, Katrine told herself, chuckling at her own thought.

The man smiled, it softened the mountain's features. "You're a beast," she declared in complete seriousness before she grinned. A stranger that didn't know her would assume she was being rude possibly and not at all understand that was, in Kat's mind, a compliment. Like the way, she called Muad and Karna pretty boys. The term yet again made sense in her head. Perfect sense. It didn't have to for anybody else.

His head shook, she wondered why as she kept watching up high from her short height, his fingers removing some stray hair from his face. Still, she wondered why. "We gotta get you some braids," she decided. Braids were a thing on Dathomir. Jai that kept their hair long had to do something with it so it wouldn't bother them while hunting or training. While Katrine was discussing braids, the man asked a question or half of it at least. And then another half-question right after that.

"How is it that there are more... what?" The girl wondered, wanting him to finish the question. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Katrine knew what she was being asked but in the front of her mind, she was thinking about how two braids for him would do the trick. So it took her a moment to remember she'd began this clumsy walk to find a Lupine, and oh, that she found him. "There's not supposed to be. A whole bunch of Lupines died out 'cos they were both crazy and liked to bed each other. It's only the Van-Dervelds now. Because we're only crazy," she explained. "Wait, are you Diego's son? Or Uncle Vega's? Or Uncle Cat's? Or Uncle Ignacio's? Or Aunt Kas'? She began listing all her Uncles and Aunts. Obviously, her paternal grandfather came first but he was definitely the one who liked to bed different women throughout the galaxy. It was his thing, they all knew it. She wondered though which one of them was there because obviously, only the Van-Dervelds were the option. Right?

Katrine had never heard of a Van-Derveld so tall. He was taller than Father, for sure. He looked like he could be taller than Uncle Vega too though she had never actually met Uncle Vega to be sure of that.

"Of course I'm not the only one. Mother and Father had four of us. And grandfather Diego got around. And Uncle Vega had kids that I know about. I'm not sure about my other two Uncles or my Aunt though but I mean, you never know." There was so much ranting on, though in truth, her words might not have been the clearest. They sounded crystal here to her, for sure. Anyway, Katrine was more focused on finding out which of her family members were his Father or Mother.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

OBJECTIVE: Get Braids Apparently
WEARING: This
POST: 9

A beast? It would not be the first time Gerwald had been called a beast, especially a woman. His large size was not typical of the populace of Stewjon. Gerwald stood a good nine inches than the average male. Genetics had determined he would stand out. Hiding was difficult to do with such a large frame, so Ger had embraced his situation long ago. Whether Katrine was being rude or not, the comment slid off of him. Though because he had plenty of drink his retort was not kept past the filter of a usually reasonable mind.

”And you’re tiny pretty little thing...”

He shouldn’t have said it, but they were both under the influence of too much mead, the sweet honey concoction that Stewjon made was as close to divine nectar as the galaxy would ever know.

Lupine.

The word registered in his mind. He certainly was. His mother had called them that, though she had also told him her parents and siblings had all passed. She had been the only one left. As the blonde spoke of her family, crazy Lupines, and the ones which died off due to incest, Gerwald shook his head.

”My father is Ubba and my mother is Angelica. I’m a Lechner, mother’s name. I don’t know any Van-Derveld...”

From the way Katrine spoke, Gerwald was under the impression that other Lupine’s who were not a Van-Derveld were not possible. He was suddenly sober. They were not family, that much he knew. His mother would have known and would have told him. The blonde didn’t stop talking though. It seemed the mead gave her loose lips. The giant of a man put a thumb to her lips as his massive palm rested on her cheek.

”You aren’t holding you mead that well. I’ll have my mother prepare the guest room in our cottage. She will have more answers to your questions than I do. The only answer I have is that we are not family.”

[member="Katrine Van-Derveld"]

 

[Tha'ga Temi]

“I’m not much of a drinker anyway,” remarked Tha’ga. “But when on Stewjon?”

She arched a brow inquisitively as though to say “maybe we should go in and join the revelers.” As luck would have it, the party came to them and the pair was handed a couple of shots that smelled like… well, as toxic as the atmosphere of Sevetta.

“Down the hatch.” Her bravado secured, the Hapan downed the shot in one go and sorely paid for it by scrunching up her face and appearing as though she wanted to spit out the drink. Once she'd recovered from the bad taste, the redhead said:

“Mr. Harrison, I suppose this also makes me the galaxy’s most boring individual, but I also prefer talking politics. You are not distracting me in the slightest.” A droid whizzed by and she set the empty shot glass on it’s square head. “What is the future for the CIS, you think?”

These were the kind of details she craved, the kind Tmoxin would never share with her, so focused on her own endeavors.

Post 8 | [member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

This was a social affair after all, she was right. So the drinks came, with a few bodies finding solace in the cooler air outside but still fueled by the music coming from within and warm glows of lights and drinks.

His shot glass was empty a second after Tha'ga's. It certainly wasn't the worst drink he'd had, but it wasn't the nicest. It was hot and slightly sour, and had a strong after-taste. His face tightened for a second, and then it was done.

"Well. That was something!"

He got rid of the glass on the tooting droid, and rubbed his hands slowly to answer her question.

"You're asking the wrong man, I'm afraid. Tmoxin probably knows more than me, you should ask her. But if you want my initial view, then war is coming. Their growing borders mean the Galactic Empire become more and more a threat, and the Confederacy won't strive for a peaceful outcome. They will seek and destroy."

The thought was a little troubling one.

This was a social affair after all, she was right. So the drinks came, with a few bodies finding solace in the cooler air outside but still fueled by the music coming from within and warm glows of lights and drinks.

His shot glass was empty a second after Tha'ga's. It certainly wasn't the worst drink he'd had, but it wasn't the nicest. It was hot and slightly sour, and had a strong after-taste. His face tightened for a second, and then it was done.

"Well. That was something!"

He got rid of the glass on the tooting droid, and rubbed his hands slowly to answer her question.

"You're asking the wrong man, I'm afraid. Tmoxin probably knows more than me, you should ask her. But if you want my initial view, then war is coming. Their growing borders mean the Galactic Empire become more and more a threat, and the Confederacy won't strive for a peaceful outcome. They will seek and destroy. Will their allies want to fight their war? Who knows."

It was all serious again. He shot her a look and shrugged.

"Your sister will know more than me. I'm just an observer more than anything." He collered another couple of suspicious looking shots and handed one over. "Where do YOU see the Confederacy going, Miss Temi?"

[member="Tha'ga Temi"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Hologaming?

The youngling perked up immediately. Yes, he could discuss HoloNet service contracts. Yes, he could talk through the intricacies of O/S Cresh. But when it came to having a passion, hologaming was always at the top of his list.

"Manifest Destiny? Then he'd probably love Event horizon: Zero Dawn," the boy offered, the enthusiasm coming through as the youngling seemed to almost be bouncing as he spoke. "It has aspects of action gaming and puzzle-solving. And if he'd be interested in multiplayer, player-versus-player combat, there's also World of Build-a-Bear Knights."

As the conversation shifted to Srina's role in the Confederacy, the drop of the word apprentice caused the child to mellow slightly. There was an odd mixture of both mirth and sadness, a Cheshire Cat smile ghosting across the youngling's face as he contemplated both the familiar frustration and humble surrender to reality that he could hear behind her words.

"Don't underestimate the apprentice," the boy offered, in an almost whimsical way. Visions of Thisspiasians and Twi'leks danced in his eyes. Infuriating, headstrong, willful people who were the bane of Sor-Jan's life as a padawan and a knight respectively.

And there had been no better friends.

And, in the case of his apprentice, no better Jedi either.

"We are all beholden to something," the young Anzat remarked finally, as his brooding thawed to return back where he was. As he looked back at the woman, he offered this advice. "Once, I was a Jedi Knight who answered to the will of the Council. Now, I'm a businessman who answers to the will of the board of directors. So, in that sense, nothing's changed."

At the invitation to order food, Sor-Jan indulged by ordering the highest culinary masterpiece known to man.

Bantha nuggets.

As he waited for the basket of bantha nuggets and fries to arrive, the question turned to his age. No doubt, between talking about hologaming to apprentices, he had pierced the veil of his usual juvenile demeanor for something a little less cute.

"A simple question with a... complicated answer."

[member="Srina Talon"]​

 

[Tha'ga Temi]

Tha’ga’s face tensed, a frown forming on her shapely lips. “Yes the Empire. I know Tmoxin considered a plan where the Confederacy would become our protectorate for the same reasons, you would like to chase down the Imperials, but truthfully our world is wary. The Free World Coalition promised independence, but there can be no true freedom when the yoke of the Sith bears down upon you.”

The with a graceful and light touch of her hand upon his knuckle, she added, “I did not mean that the Confederacy would betray Hapes the way the FWC had.” She withdrew the hand, politely not letting it linger and laced her fingertips again, resting them near her stomach.

“Will you visit Hapes sometime? I’m assuming you have been to the Cluster, but if not I’d like to host a gathering for you and some other CIS delegates. Just because we may try to close our borders to outsiders, does not mean there won’t be plenty of tourism or even immigration. It just starts with regulation, but perhaps you can give the Heritage Council a fresh perspective on it.”

Tha’ga peeked past Mr. Harrison, brows canted in an apologetic look. “I suppose I must mingle a bit, but it means going back in there. Either way it was delightful to meet you and my offer stands for a visit to The Palace.”

“Shall we?” The redhead near-spitting image of Tmoxin offered her arm for Connor to walk her back inside.

Post 9 | [member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Connor smiled at the openness of Tha'ga. She laid out her views and her actions without any intent to intimidate or offend. It was rather refreshing seeing someone in the political arena so human.

"I would love to visit Hapes again. It has been far too long since I've been there." He turned and took her arm to lead her back inside. "And the pleasure was all mine, Miss Temi. I hope to make your acquaintance again soon."

He let go and rather gallantly took her hand and kissed the knuckles, then slipped a chip in her palm.

"My contact details are enclosed. Enjoy your evening."

She was a little ray of sunshine, and a pleasure to talk to. He hoped to see her again, and let her go to mingle with others. Connor looked for that signature, and he found it again in the guise of [member="Srina Talon"] across the way talking with the youth - [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] - in deep thought. There was no desire, yet, to break up their little chat, but something told him he needed to iron things out with the silver-haired Echani.

There was nothing worse than getting off on the wrong foot. Goodness knows how much trouble it would get the girl into.

[member="Tha'ga Temi"]

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Objective: Tipsy Drunk; Passing out. Catch her before she hits her head? [member="Gerwald Lechner"]
Wearing: This

Her remark caused one in return. Tiny pretty little thing, he'd said and Katrine smirked to that almost immediately. "I know." When it came to her looks, the blonde wasn't capable of modesty. She was born with beautiful genes, she was aware of how she looked. Nona might not have been able to see she was a beautiful woman but Katrine paid close attention to everyone that she knew. It was her thing, observing and remembering. So, naturally, she, a descendant of two good-looking people (she didn't really know how the Van-Dervelds looks but hey, she knew her Father and siblings looked so that counted, no?) and then a whole bunch of Hawks she actually did know, some of them a couple of hundred years old and still looking better than some who were a few decades old. Besides, Katrine thought it, she pretty much said it without hesitation.

Ubba and Angelica. None of those names rang any bell. He was Lechner, his mother's name. He knew no Van-Dervelds. For a split second, the blonde could feel her mind clearing up as she processed what she was being told. "Wait, what?" It didn't register. It seemed impossible. Completely and utterly impossible. Father had always said there were Grandpa Diego, her Uncles and of course, some cousins and their own pack. He said they'd all died out. So how was it possible that she was faced with a Lupine who didn't know who the Van-Dervelds was. "Maybe you don't know? Grandpa Diego slept around," Katrine returned a moment later.

Wasn't she holding her mead well? Would his mother prepare the guest room for her? She'd have answers? Katrine was just staring at him right now, absorbing the words into her mind like they were in a different language, trying to make sense out of them. The only answer I have is that we're not family. That was when she'd blinked, head tilted as she registered the words and her brain began working and processing the sentences again. "I'm holding my mead fine," she first stated. "Why do I need a guest room? I have my Mother's ship," but even when the words sounded convincing, she looked around, trying to remember where she'd left Crimson Shadow. It was somewhere, safe, she was sure of that but right now, Katrine couldn't remember where it was. "Somewhere." The word came out flat and slightly confused. Definitely somewhere. On this planet.

What were the other things he'd said? Answers to questions, right, her mind quickly recalled. "Will she have the answers?" She wondered. It sounded so odd, so shattering to find out that Father was wrong. He'd said there was no one else and yet here he was telling her there was. "Father is never wrong," she muttered suddenly as it dawned on her, words suddenly flowing in her head. Father was never wrong, that was one of the most solid truths Katrine Van-Derveld Hawk had in her life. No matter when no matter what or even how Father was never wrong and Father always knew. And yet, this beast of a man was saying he was not a Van-Derveld. He was Lechner. Not a Van-Derveld, the thought flashed through her mind, father was wrong.

Her thoughts suddenly swelled inside her mind, filling up with words Father had told her throughout her life. "Father was wrong." The words came out crystal clear in her head just before it would become too much. Just before she would pass out, falling backward.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

The woman clearly could not hold her mead regardless of how much she tried to argue that she could. There was a brief moment of clarity that was accompanied with shock at the revelation they were not family. It was the only thing which seemed to clear her mind long enough to process what he had been saying. Gerwald was tipsy, pretty trashed himself, but at least he still was able to function. The shock he felt at discovering another Lupine had been enough to keep him alert enough that he was no longer as drunk as he had been before finding her.

“You are not going to be finding your ship with as drunk as you are… My parents’ place is the best place for you right now.”

The blonde kept repeating that her father was wrong. The name Diego meant nothing to Gerwald as it came from her mouth earlier. All he knew was that his mother was the only chance they had to clear all of this up. Unfortunately, Katrine was too drunk to do that now.

His intention had been to lead her there, but as she continued to mumble about her father being wrong, Gerwald noticed her eyes become glassed over, even more than what they had been during their brief conversation. She was going to pass out, and she did.

Gerwald’s arms extended just in time for her to fall into them. Her small frame was light, and as he lifted her off of her feet the lupine scent became that much stronger. He could smell it above the alcohol, which was a good thing, because the two of them had drank quite a bit between the two of them. It was off to his parents’ house where both of them would spend the night.

Upon arrival his mother had been at the door having smelled the new Lupine before they had reached the house. Angelica looked as shocked as Gerwald and Katrine had been upon the discovery of the other. Perhaps she would not have answers, but maybe there would be enough to determine what had happened. For now, Katrine was placed on a soft bed in the rustic home befitting the aesthetic the rest of the planet seemed to boast. Ger staggered to the kitchen where he began to drink his black stimcaf, just enough to shake the buzz in his head before drifting off to sleep.

Sleep. It was something Ger knew he was not going to get much of. He was too excited about the new lupine, a woman, pretty, and at this point mysterious. Gerwald wanted to know everything, and he wanted to see the galaxy. Clearly he did not know everything there was to know, and if there was one lupine there had to be more.


[member="Katrine Van-Derveld"]