Seven Seas | CIS Dominion of Leritor

[Scherezade deWinter]

Dress | Masque
Location: Entrance


She had most definitely not wanted to go. Not a chance. Not another party. This time with masks and drinking and the same people who'd seen her get a panic attack inside a sandcrawler on the hot sands of Tatooine. So she'd told Katrine that she was going to stay put and find ways to entertain herself aboard the ship.

And that had lasted a grand half hour before Scherezade found herself too bored, and too intrigued. She generally didn't like parties too much, but... Well. She'd never been to a masquerade. Or a party that she wasn't planning on causing trouble at. This was going to be... A civilized party.

It wasn't long after that decision was made that she exited the ship, wearing a gorgeous dress and a mask she'd found in one of the clothes rooms aboard the ship. One day, she was going to ask Kat why those rooms accommodated to her size as well when she was obviously bigger in measurements than both Kat and her mother. But not tonight. Tonight... She would attend the party! And hopefully, no one would notice that underneath the dress, she was wearing her usual combat boots.

Her resolve lasted her only until the entrance though. That was where she sort of froze with herself, her eyes scanning the crowd she could see, trying to find a familiar face.

 

[Erick Louie]

Location: Lobby
Tags: [member="Eternal Vision"]

Super TD-T47 was analyzing the other guests, hoping to have background information on standby when engaged within a conversation. Startled by being bumped by someone, he turned around quickly.


Super TD-T47 replied to Bettie Bot, "It is alright. Do you have a nearby private holotable I can use?"

 

[Muad Dib]

Post: 1
Location: Balcony

Leaning against the balcony that overlooked the ocean he sighed quietly to himself. He had come to the event, yet he truly did not know why. The gala bustled with the finely dressed, each wearing some sort of mask in keeping with the theme. The dance floor was filled with writhing bodies that matched the tempo of the music. The dining area rang out with conversation and a smattering of laughter.

He did not join in the jovial festivities.

A cream white tunic with the sleeves pulled up his forearms, dark brown trousers, and boots was his attire for the evening. Far from the elegant trappings worn by those partaking in the revelry. The only mask he wore was a cold grimace, glowing eyes staring into the quickly approaching night.

He tossed back another draught of Whyren's Reserve before refilling the tumbler with the fine liquor from Corellia. Below, on the beach, Traycn roamed around following his own devices. A slight twitch turned his lips as he recalled obtaining the pup on Tython. His face eased back into a hard mask as he dwelt on the past for moments.

Back then he was the Mad Knight of the Sith no more, rather the Mad Knight of Manda'yaim. But just as his time as a Sith had come to a close, so did his tenor on Mandalore. Aye, he was still mando'ad, but he was an exile from their ranks because of the curiosity of his birth ... A Force user.

Another drink, another sigh. For a time he found a place among the Confederacy ... Yet things were changing. He was changing. And the Master was uncertain of the future. Uncertainty didn't bother him. It was what he felt stirring within that caused the dark look upon his face. Many considered him mad, insane, unbalanced, even unhinged. None knew him, except for Arabella and Sol.

Watching the skies flash in the distance he sighed once more. A storm was coming. And, if truth be told, he felt a great sense of unease that in any other would venture on fear. It wasn't the storm that was nearing that gave the man pause, but the one at the center of it. There was always the calm before the storm ... And tonight Muad was calm.

 

[Jorco Czeku]

Location: Dance Floor [member="Chikako Liona"]
Attire Clothes | Mask

At the moment the Rodian thought about heading over to the bar to get a drink he heard an unfamiliar voice speak to him closely. Turning his body, and look through his mask with his large pupilless eyes he saw who spoke to him. Looking down at the young girl he didn't recognize her. After listening to what she had to say he'd reply. "Good evening my lady..." He wasn't sure if that sounded too proper. "Um, yes, despite how little time I've spent here I've already found this place quite nice." His voice was a little muffled given where his mouth was.

After that Jorco extend his hand down to her, his long fingers reaching out. "My name's Jorco, Jorco Czeku. May I have the honor of knowing yours my dear?" He requested. Perhaps he could get to know her some. She wasn't what he had in mind for company this evening, given that she looked quite young. But he wasn't above making friends with her. Plus she had to be important to the Confederacy to be here.

 

[Asteria deWinter]

Location: Entrance
Post: 1
Dress | Mask

How odd it was, the Confederacy of Independent Systems sending out an invitation to the Ancient Eye to attend this event. Asteria could remember when she had studied of this faction, and how it had come to cripple the Republic. It felt like centuries now that it had been part of her studies as a child and yet, it had only been decades for her. Not all that many even thanks to her slumber. Lady deWinter knew of this group, it was her job to know which faction permitted what and whether suitable for business because of it. The slavery factor was an issue but in reality, the Red Lady could be adjusted with only legal activities conducted, for the most part. If need be. Though tonight, the Mistress of Elements was present to access these friends, and nothing more than that.

This idea changes the very moment she had come to the Entrance of the building, the sensation engulfing her almost immediately at that very moment. Familiar, personal, that it almost knocked the wind out of her chest. So strong that when her lips parted, the breath that exited was visibly icy. It was almost as though... no, impossible. She was lost and her youngest of siblings knew where to find her always, it was as potent of a gift as it had been to be loved by all, even those who despised each other at the same time.

And yet, the feeling seemed almost as strong as the emerald green eyes observed her surroundings, she noted the figure in gray and black, with beautiful brown locks. It was almost as though it was Nessarose herself. Her head tilted slightly as she moved to stand beside [member="Scherezade deWinter"]. The mask upon the young face was hardly concealing enough to hide the recognizable profile and there seemed only one possible option for the face when Nessarose had outgrown it long ago. Yet, was this, not a babe when she had last seen her? "The Red Lady stands on Coruscant still. Not quite the same building but the location is quite publicized." Asteria said calmly, her emerald gaze diverted forward.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Something flared beneath her skin. Scherezade looked at her bare arms, trying to make sense of it. The feeling was unfamiliar to her. She had felt the Force flare up on numerous different occasions in the past few weeks, but this was.... Different. It wasn't just the Force, no, there was something much deeper within it, almost primal. If she hadn't known any better, she would've thought her blood was singing, though even trying to think of it that way was insufficient to help her grab or recognize the song.

When a certain woman stood next to her, the girl thought the sensation of it would drown her. She could hardly breathe now that this stranger was here, and glancing at the seconds that led up to it, she realized that her air had been escaping her in bits and pieces until at last all she could do was exalt a tiny whimper and then curse herself for doing such a thing when not alone and with privacy.

The person, a woman, she realized now, spoke. The Red Lady.

Only now did Scherezade turn, facing the woman with her full front. It was not a face she could remember seeing before. Not on Coruscant, not on Tatooine, not on Ryloth. And yet there was something so familiar about her that it almost felt like being stabbed in the chest with a dull butter knife. She studied the woman, going from the gorgeous gown, up the slender body, the neck, the chin, and...

Emerald eyes.

Scherezade's eyes went further still, to the hair. Blonde hair. She prayed silently to the Force as she scanned the information she had about all living family members, dead, presumably dead, maybe dead, probably not dead, potentially alive. Only two were blonde. And only one had emerald eyes.

In front of Scherezade stood Lady deWinter, her aunt, Asteria.

Scherezade's eyes widened as she stared, the ability to speak entirely lost on her, along with her ability to move a millimeter in any direction.

[member="Asteria deWinter"]

 

[Asteria deWinter]

Location: Entrance
Post: 2
Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]
Dress | Mask]https://cdn.nickpic.host/images/pXJhYe.jpg]Mask

Her eyes returned to meet the face of what to Asteria was, in truth, the face of her sister so long ago. Yet, the eyes did not match and she didn't feel like Nessarose, not completely. A babe into a teenager, how long had Scherezade walked the galaxy before they had crossed paths? And yet, through the Force, she didn't seem as old. It seemed almost as... "How old are you?" She found herself asking though physically, she could see that she was a teenager without a doubt when she shouldn't have been.

Almost two decades had passed since she had awakened and it seemed as though the child in front of her was a child and a teenager, a baby and a soon to be grown up. It made little sense, other than to suspect that it was not natural and if not natural than sorcery was undoubtedly at hand. Asteria knew a single woman who possessed such unique gifts, stronger and capable of performing acts unseen by others.

"Come, child, we should speak," Lady deWinter finally spoke as she moved forward, into the gala, not turning to see if her niece was following her. She should have been, and if not, a small incentive through the Force would be applied. For now, though, she trusted the blood of her sister to simply listen. Asteria had much she wanted to ask her.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Scherezade continued to just stare, her mind drawing a complete blank on everything. She wouldn't have been able to count to five if she were asked to, so deep ran the shock at just coincidentally stumbling into a family member who was awake. And then came the one question she would never precisely know how to answer. Her age. So she opted not to, though this time it was more of a matter of choice.

Slowly, her blood began to flow again, and her body felt as though her heart remembered how it was supposed to beat. Her aunt moved, beckoning her with words to follow, and she felt that little nudge that made her realize she'd taken just a breath too long before doing so. She was right, of course. Her aunt. They should speak. But was this the right place?

She started to search through the information she'd been granted. The difference in years between Aunt Asteria and mother Nessarose had been relatively on the large side, since her Shery and Lorcan had not actually planned on Nessarose. Her mother had beaten the odds and decided she wanted to exist, and planted herself in her mother's womb. That was the legend, anyway. Scherezade was sure it was more of an oopsie moment that had caused the pregnancy. And then Nessarose was... Well, even Shery had been fuzzy about how old exactly her daughter was when she became pregnant with Scherezade and Brayden. Not due to lack of care, of course. It had just been a crazy period in time and included fighting with ancestors, losing one's mind, changing a body... She couldn't fault her for that.

"I think I'm about twenty five to thirty years younger than you if we count from birth," she finally blurted when the two came to a stop. Her voice sounded a lot like Nessa's, though it lacked that never ending energy her mother had, the type that had been commented on more than once that if you could bottle it up and sell, you'd become rich. Scherezade's voice was similar in sound but not in feel. She was more held back. Quieter, both in and out. And she most definitely lacked the deWinter charisma. "But I don't know beyond that. I have a fake issued ID that states I'm 17 though I think that's wrong as well."

She stared at her aunt again. In the few instances she'd imagined her aunts and uncle, she'd pictured them as grown ups, of the type that look like grown ups. Like an aunt on a holoseries. But her aunt looked nothing like that. Her aunt looked like a timeless witch, an entity that glared at time in the face and decided it was irrelevant to their biological advancement. Her aunt was power. And her aunt... Her aunt looked exactly the way Scherezade had imagined a deWinter looked like in person. With blonde hair.


[member="Asteria deWinter"]

 

[Asteria deWinter]

Location: Somewhere between Fine Dining and the Bar
Post: 3
Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]
Dress | Mask

She did follow, Asteria acknowledged as the girl spoke revealing her age to be possible somewhere between twenty-five to thirty years younger than her Aunt, making the blond look at her though she wasn't sure if the child didn't know her age or her own. "Do you doubt mine or yours?" Asteria asked. Last time she had laid eyes on Nessarose's offspring, they were small, tiny; as tiny as their mother had been when she had first met her though this calculation didn't quite add up from what Asteria recalled and she did remember vaguely when she had been put to sleep. Scherezade noted that she didn't know but she held a fake identification which claimed she was seventeen which could possibly add up to the previous calculation.

"When I last saw you both, you were infants," she revealed now, "And that was not too long before we were put to our sleep." It was what she remembered. Except, as she had spoken, Asteria realized the expression on the girl's face, her bright green gaze shifting to look at her. She let her because there was a curious gleam in her eyes, reminding her of the way her daughter looked at her when she was small, the memory triggering another spark of emotion in her. Her expression neutralized as she turned her hand rising to her chest as her index finger moved, indicating to the waiter to come to them. He arrived, empty tray in his hand. "Two glasses of Cedrellian aged wine," Asteria instructed and dismissed with a slow gesture, only two fingers moving discreetly before she looked back to Scherezade as they were left by themselves. "Have you seen your Mother, Scherezade?" She wondered then, though her tone was casual at the best. She had seen her sister, long ago though, and not for quite some time now. Asteria knew full well that with adulthood, each gained responsibilities which were quite different but if need be, her youngest sibling of worth could always find her and someday, she would have.

As for Scherezade, Asteria wondered much still but there was no need to rush their conversation.

The waiter returned shortly with their wine, offering the tray towards Asteria, who picked up both of the glasses before giving another dismissal to the man, not allowing for the uninvited company to interrupt them. "Drink slowly," she offered, extending one hand towards the girl.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

"Mine," Scherezade answered immediately. If she hadn't been a deWinter herself, she would have truly feared trying to claim anything Asteria deWinter said was wrong. But as her niece... Well, she wasn't afraid, but she needed a damn good reason, and she hadn't realized her words might come off as doubting her. She wasn't a wordsmith. Not like her father, who could tell you the world with a mere few words, or her mother, who could talk endlessly about nothing and keep everyone hooked to every word she uttered. She was just... Plain Scherezade, who lacked half of her, and who was still trying to figure out what the puzzle pieces that made her up actually were.

Asteria said then the one thing that could actually cause deep and dire pain in Scherezade, and the girl made no attempt to hide it. I saw you both. Both. Brayden. She still didn't know where he was. If he was asleep, or alive, or had woken up without knowing who he was and wasted a lifetime as a normal person. She'd barely have time to recover when Asteria asked her about her mother.

Scherezade shook her head, the grief of Brayden stronger now, painfully obvious on the young girl's face.

"Is she..." what was the word? "Alive? Awake?" and of course, the question that bothered every child who was growing up without their parents, "did she try to find us? Did... Did daddie?"

The drinks arrived, and with them the order to drink slowly. Up until now, Scherezade had declined any offer of hard liquor. Horror stories of Aunt Morgaine's drinking habits served as a good warning. But the internal turmoil at present was enough to not cause her to question Asteria. She drank.


[member="Asteria deWinter"]

 

[Jennifer Blanchard]

The Confederacy was a place where many were enjoying the life of having a heavily technology focused society. She loved it, Jenn was able to disappear into the data streams and continue to learn, or support, her nation from the comfort of her ship and her office. But now she was almost dragged by some friends to this world. There was work to be done elsewhere still. She looked around before initiating the 3D frame of her datapad.

She was checking the systems of the droids in the area. There were going to need to be support teams in case anything did go belly up on this planet. And that was what Jenn was hoping to prevent. A show of force was one thing, but the force being able to do more than show, when the time was needed? That was even greater. Downloading the data of the planet, Jenn was working on linking it into the new system, the Confederacy’s planetary defense network.

Should anyone come in and break a law, the proper use of force was authorized, and should anyone come in and drop the wrong fleet into the system with the wrong intention? Well, Confederacy brass would find out very quickly, and the local droids would move to a defensive and stalling technique until help could arrive.

Simple, right? Now… about a drink.

 

[Chikako Liona]

---

Location: Dance Floor [member="Jorco Czeku"]
Attire: Dress Mask
Post: 2

The black bug like eyes of the Rodian met the silver ones of Chikako, he seemed a little confused but responded in a respectful manner, proceeding to answer her proposed question, all but in a smothered manner due to the oversized mask. "Well it is nice to see you enjoying yourself here tonight, such an open invite party is quite the occasion", so many people from so many factions gathered here surely made for one giant gathering. The duchess took the extended offering of a hand shake, giving a small innocent like smile, "Well it is a pleasure to meet you Jorco Czeku, my name is Chikako Fredricka Liona, of the Echani noble house of Liona and its current heir".

Her hand shake was polite and well mannered, very fitting for someone of her noble stature, but still had a small amount of strength behind it due to the races warrior like culture. "So, mister Czeku, might I inquire into your dealings here today? Do you have business with the Confederacy in some manner, or perhaps you are already a part of it and we just simply have yet to meet until now”? If the suspicious of the Rodian being a solider turned to be true either never meeting before would make sense as much of Chikako's time was spent on diplomatic and governmental assignments.

---

 

[Lyla Quinn]

Location – The Entrance Stairs
Gown And Mask – Shades of Fire
Goal – Get To The (Choppa) Beach! Preferably without making a complete fool of herself.
Guest – Unknown; Possibly [member=Irma Olanthe]
Posts Made – 1

“I’ll make you a dress, she said,” Quinn grumped, scraping up her massive, shining skirts in her arms like it was laundry day and all but tumbling out of the limo. “It’ll be great, she said! Boy, if I’m ever able to beat Meira in single combat, I’m gonna wring that girl’s skinny little neck…”

The smuggler had three problems.

One, this was a party. A fancy one with poofy dresses and masks and seventeen different utensils for your salad. Quinn was lucky to see a pair of clean chopsticks once a week for her undercooked instant noodles and a pair of pants that had less than four holes. ‘Fancy’ for the crew of The Areta was hard to come by. Or it had been before she’d joined forces with the Confederacy of Independent Systems and acquired a tidy sum of cash. Now they could afford proper digs for these shindigs. Still, even dressed to the nines, she stuck out like a farm girl in the city.

Two, she’d lost her invitation on the ride over while she’d been attempting to wrangle the massive beast that was her gown into a sitting position.

And three, the massive beast that was her gown was GLOWING and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Yes, glowing. Brightly. The full orange, red and yellow color spectrum. Like living fire, the entire gown glittered, fading from a burning golden at the bodice into a bloody crimson at the ends of the skirt. The ‘surprise’ Meira had mentioned, maybe? It’d happened in the limo as soon as the lights had dimmed and despite all efforts wouldn’t stop. Upon inspection (and much cursing at her best friend’s interpretation of ‘I want something unique’), it seemed the fabric was full of tiny shifting fiber optics with no ‘off’ button.
So…basically a giant signal light for the highbrow-challenged Twi’lek who can’t walk in heels.
There went whatever hope she had of blending in.

The holocard had given her a checkbox for a guest, which she made sure she filled in completely (no way was she masquerading on her own), but Quinn had never put down a name because she couldn’t pick who to bring with her. She’d gone ahead, leaving a limo for whoever would join her. Should be along any minute.

Immediately, Quinn had to fight the urge to kick off her shoes and head for the pristine beaches. Places like this weren’t usually accessible to people like her, and the last time she’d dipped her toes in a large body of water was…well, too long to remember back. But the sooner she made her shining entrance, the quicker she could slink off somewhere (with a bottle and some food) her ridiculous outfit wouldn’t leave people friggin’ blind.

“Invitation?” The guards at the ballroom entrance squinted at her, one holding out his meaty hand for the holocard.

“Oh! Of course, uh…” Quinn made a show of patting her nonexistent pockets. She even lifted her skirts a little to check her stockings. Finally, she shrugged a little, a musical laugh in her words. “Y’know, I think I left it in my other gown? So many parties. It’s so hard to keep track these days.”

The guards looked unimpressed.

She tried again, shifting her lekku over her shoulder and setting her vibrant blue eyes on the one asking for her invitation, fixing him with a charming smile. “My name’s on the list, if you’d like to check. Lyla Quinn?”

He blinked. “No invitation, no entrance, I’m sorry, miss.”

Quinn’s face fell sadly. “I’m obviously here for this, I mean I’m probably the only Twi’lek on the list… Can’t you make an exception this once?” she pouted.

The guard exchanged glances with the others, nodding to the one closest to the door who ran a finger down the screen of his datapad as he scrolled through the list. He returned the nod, confirming the name, but the guard in front of Quinn remained hesitant. “I’m sorry, miss,” he repeated but with less fervor, “No invitation, no admittance. Those are the rules.”

Quinn sighed heavily, her best dejected expression on full power. She flicked her gaze up at him, smiling a little. “But… but I’m sparkly!” she whined quietly. The smuggler swayed a little on the spot to the music drifting in under the entrance door, swishing her bountiful skirts around her legs, eyes kitten-like.

After a full fifty seconds of it, he couldn’t take anymore. With a begrudging roll of his eyes, the guard stood aside and opened the door, gesturing for her to enter.

With a smile as bright as her gown, Quinn beamed at him as she moved through the doorway. “Thank you!” she whispered, blowing him a kiss. He fluffed her short train through the opening and quickly closed the doors, looking nervous.

And now the rose-gold Twi’lek was standing alone on the stairs, glowing like a torch.
There was a short but awkward moment where she actually considered vaulting over the side of the stairs and making for the balcony. But, it passed, and she gathered herself and made her way down into the ballroom with her chin held high, her mask secure on her face, silently wishing the floor would swallow her. Or someone would dump black paint on her gown, either way.

 

[Muad Dib]

Post:2

The wind blew cooly against his fevered brow. The light touch soothing the smoldering within his soul, what constituted for his soul at least. A cold grin matched the visage worn on his face. You didn't do the things he did and keep your soul unscathed. It also didn't help that he thoroughly enjoyed what he did. And he was an artist.

He had walked many realms, seen gods, bled gods, had his body shredded, burned, broken, ripped ... And yet he had never tasted his own death. Oh, he had tasted the death of many. But his own demise had eluded him.

Lightning forked across the sky in a brilliant display of raw, unbridled power that asked neither leave nor permission nor forgiveness. The man turned his head enough to look through the arched doors that led from the balcony into the gala. Eyes glowed brilliantly in the darkened exterior as he tracked Isley Verd, ViceLord , alor, witch, and a Sith Lord. He wore the trappings of civility but the eyes never lied. Here was a man holding to the tattered remains of his own soul. A man who held the reins to the Confederacy. A man who believed he held the leash.

The cold smile reached to his eyes.

Tasting the whiskey in the tumbler he looked at the familial ties and a particular apprentice of the Darth. Even a god has weaknesses. Even a god can feel pain. Even a god can have their soul ripped apart. And that was an intriguing thought.

A cold droplet lashed his neck reminding him that though one may believe they had complete control, control was a carefully crafted illusion. All it took was an agent of chaos to tilt the scales of balance. An Exile as it were.

He turned back to the balcony to view the storm that had finally arrived.

 

[Ria Misrani]

Promenade.
Dress & Mask.

Amaya nodded in agreement with [member="Srina Talon"]'s guess, "perhaps but I'm sure father will come out of his rut soon enough, he always does." She paused a moment and moved to ask the Echani the true question that had been on her mind but before she could ask. @Darth Inanis's had approached and greeted her so casually that all she could do was play along, "ah yes, Uncle..." Although it was clear by the tone of her voice she had no idea who he was. Thankfully Mandalorian culture called for no blood rites with 'family,' and so she cleared her throat, "entirely far, far too long dear Uncle." She gave him the most polite smile that a noble could muster before untangling herself from his and Miss Talon's presence, "well, Miss Talon should you find yourself in need of company tonight, do not hesitate." Amaya gave Miss Talon a wink of her own which was just as suggestive as any word.

Unfortunately, before Amaya could untangle herself as it were, from the group another [member="Aryn Teth"] had arrived and announced his status. "Ah, Supreme Commander, I am Amaya Cardei of Theed Hangar, Daughter of Isley Verd." It was all she could say before her husband returned, Teyn handed her a flute of berry juice while he maintained water. "Miss Talon, Supreme Commander Teth and Uncle..." her voice trailed with the obvious, whoever-you-are, "this is my husband Teyn Gratiir of Clan Gratiir a minor of Clan Betna."

"Indeed, hello a pleasure to you all, Commander, Miss Talon and another in-law, always good to meet ... another." Teyn's words failed him but he felt comfort when his wife put her arm around his waist. "It seems you all are rather well acquainted, did either of you say where we could meet with my father-in-law?"

Amaya had finished her sip of juice and answered perhaps a little too happily, "yes, actually, we'll find him in the bar."

"Oh... maybe I wasn't looking hard enough then, alright, well again a pleasure perhaps we'll speak with you all a bit later."

"Is that man really your uncle?"

"Babe, I have no idea."

"Fair point."

Teyn and Amaya moved from the promenade and crossed through the Masquerade, both of them with their eyes and face hidden away by their rather colourful visage. His black suit with her blue dress, and as they walked through she had to tell her husband. "Seems a rather lovely place to settle, don't you think?" Leritor seemed at a point to be able to welcome a Mandalorian settlement and with the Mandalorians unsure of what they wanted to do other than beat up on one another. It felt like a good time to retreat, "Caal's said he wanted to care for the village."

"I don't like the man, he's too eager, too ambitious and perhaps too harsh as well." Teyn gave his opinions but ultimately it was his wife's decision, "but I'm sure you're well aware."

"Darling, if I wasn't, you would have told me - but we either leave him to the dogs of Mandalore or bring him here."

He sneered a little and cleared his throat, "speaking of dogs, here he comes."

Amaya elbowed her husband gave Caal a pleasant enough smile, "Caal, where's Dwen?"

"You mean my babysitter?" Caal gruffed and looked over his shoulder, "there. Now, if we're done I'd like to return to the fleet and get us back to Concord Dawn."

She licked her lips and handed her husband her flute of juice. "You will stay here and be cordigal, understand?"

Caal's nostrils flared his hands balled into a fist. He could take her in combat he figured but then his eyes fell to her husband, he was another story altogether. Most often laughed at Teyn's simple obedience to his wife but the truth of the matter was his silence was foreboding. Teyn was taller and built more like a mountain his quiet demeanor was deceitful to say the least. A Minor of Clan Betna, Caal looked again to Amaya and noted her expression. "Understood, but I do not like these gatherings, they are nothing but wasted moments."

"Caal, even events such as this are just as ripe for battle as any field. I understand that you need something more to do, so if you can stand being here for the evening. We shall scout for new holdings here on Leritor, and bring your Clan over."

Teyn held his expression and waited.

"Of course," Caal bowed with respect and waited until Dwen arrived, "Dwen would you care to dance?"

Dwen raised her brow as she caught her breath, "with you?"

"Why not me?"

The woman rolled her eyes, took Caal's hand and off they went.

Amaya linked arms with her husband as they continued their stroll. "Care to explain that?" Teyn asked as he downed the flute of water he held in his own hand while handing her, her drink again.

"Sorry, I was caught in the headlights and besides it wouldn't be right to leave him to the dogs that our people have become. We'll figure out how to resettle our clans after tonight," Amaya told her husband as they entered the bar area and her eyes scanned for her father. And it wouldn't take her long to find the Ram, she threw her shoulders back and chugged the rest of her juice before placing it on a wandering tray. "Right, speaking of headlights, this is your opportunity to run."

"I'm fine, your father only scares me - on a scale of one to ten, fourteen."

"Good man," she patted her husband on the shoulder and the two walked with caution.

"Father," Amaya started with her approach, a careful voice, "Miss Talon told us we might find you here."

Teyn gave [member="Darth Metus"] a smile and offered his hand to shake, "always good to see you sir."

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Location: Entrance
Post: 2
Tags: [member="Lyla Quinn"]
Wearing: Dress, Mask

Katrine was still studying her odd drink before she'd finally taken a sip out of it, finding it to be surprisingly tasty. Her sapphire gaze wandered about, slightly swaying to the quiet beat coming from somewhere in the distance though she didn't quite know where it was right away and she didn't care too much, taking a second sip right after the first.

For a moment, she'd caught a glance of Pebble coming in, beautiful in her dress and mask and considering going to her until a woman she'd never seen approached her. The power oozing off of the blond was strong but more so than that, the look on Pebble had almost made her move and interrupt since clearly, the girl was in some kind of shock. Yet, as the woman moved so did Scherezade so Katrine stayed where she was, thinking that maybe her Ward wasn't in danger since she was continuing her conversation. She'd check up on her soon enough.

For now, though, something else caught her attention further through the entrance, making the Witch stare towards it. The dress was radiating with color, almost as if it was burning yet it was neither natural fire nor magic at work, she realized after a moment, suddenly making her way towards the stairs. "Hi! I love your dress!" Katrine announced as soon as she had come within range of the Twi'lek, a race she'd grown more accustomed to due to mostly spending her time on Ryloth. As a child, when she did come in contact with them, she had many questions and more often than not, she'd attempted to pull on their Lekku just to feel how it felt since clearly, she had hair where they did not and it fascinated the Lupine child. That felt like it was done by a completely different person than she was now, just studying the dress and not making a big deal over the species of the woman she was addressing.

"I don't think we've met before. I'm Katrine Van-Derveld," she introduced herself after a moment, looking at the woman expectedly as if she had actually asked for her name.

 

[Asteria deWinter]

Location: Somewhere between Fine Dining and the Bar
Post: 4
Tag: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]
Dress | Mask

The response was immediate, almost too fast, Asteria considered as she continued to ponder. "I would be inclined to suspect your grandmother," she voiced, watching the child's reaction. It was not to say Nessarose wasn't capable but her Mother was far more willing. To do what was necessary, in a matter of speaking, even with her own blood. Though Asteria suspected there was much of her Mother's life she didn't know, only that which Shery deWinter deemed necessary to share. Yet, while she was willing to believe her own thoughts, she was curious to see how Scherezade would react to it since she was born in a time when the original lady deWinter wasn't as active in the lives of her children as she had been while they had been growing up.

Her face betrayed her as Asteria mentioned Brayden, a dark change on her face revealing perhaps more than Scherezade had intended. "You don't know where he is," she concluded without requiring an explanation. Twins were a peculiar thing in the bloodline, somewhat unique for as far as they were aware of the bloodline. Asteria herself knew most of the Family of Darkness through the teachings of their ancestor Ashmedai when Boadicea had been more inclined to murder her rather than to know her.

Question to answer a question, Scherezade seemed to struggle to form it, asking instead if she tried to find them, bringing up her father, yet Asteria had not seen the Warrior King of Endelaan since their return, only her own sister. "I cannot speak for your Father, perhaps he still slumbers, perhaps he is lost." There was a flatness in her tone though Asteria had no intent to hurt the child in her presence. Diomedes' face was simply not one she had seen since she had awoken and yet she had seen both Nessarose and their godfather. She wondered then if their ancestor cared for the second set of branches of the family of darkness or if it had been just the one side. In her words though, she betrayed a lack of emotion for her distant family member, for which he was. A boy, who had stood beside her sister as her King. There had never been an emotional connection to him even though she now knew they shared the same blood of the Family of Darkness. Yet, an emotion bond existed to his Father from times before the knowledge had been shared with the living. Cameron Centurion was her godfather first and foremost, never her Uncle or even the Father of her half-sibling Elora.

As the waiter departed and she had shared the drink with Scherezade, she pondered back on Nessarose. "As for your Mother, I could speculate that she had but I would be lying if I said I knew for sure. It would be like her to try and find you." They were her children, after all, it seemed the most natural assumption for Asteria to make of Nessarose. She had been willing to reach out to the very worst of them even at a young age, so why not to the most important of them as well? "Will you tell me what happened to you?" She finally asked before taking a small sip of her drink, observing Scherezade do the same. Though Asteria never permitted herself or her own daughter to enjoy larger quantities of alcoholic drinks, she believed now that when a child came of a certain age, they could try and enjoy some of it. Never like Morgaine but it shouldn't have been banned or discouraged, for her sister was proof that the gene for addiction was inside them, a rebellion in this sense was undesirable. So, she permitted rather than outlawed.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

No, she didn't now where he was. She had no clue. She had not seen her twin since they were both still in diapers. She had no clue whether or not he was alive, or dead, or sleeping, or if gradmother had turned him into a pebble as well, or maybe something else, like a piece of amber, or a sharp rock. Or maybe he was on Endelaan, already an adult. Could it be possible? For them to be twins and yet of a different actual age now that so long had passed? The possibilities were endless, and if there was one thing Scherzade knew that Shery had not given her, was the tools with which she could read that great big Web of hers. She didn't even know how to glimpse into the future. For all purposes, she wasn't much more advanced than a puppy who knew some basic potty training with the Force.

And then came the mentions of her father. Scherezade noted the indifference in Asteria's voice when he was mentioned. She tried to search the knowledge she had to see if something had happened between her father and her aunt, but her grandmother had nothing to offer on the subject. It was as if Shery hadn't even cared about it, which Scherezade found confusing, because her father was part of the family long before he got together with her mother, and surely they all had to know that at least on some kind of primal Force level.

For a moment, she resented her aunt. All her aunts. And her uncle, and parents, and every single person in the damned family who got to grow up normally. Who got to grow up with parents, and siblings, and day by day, rather than make this horrible jump of several centuries without any actual meat in between. She was certain she would've been much better at existing if she'd had a normal childhood. Or at least, something that was considered normal within her family.

But that anger couldn't linger too long. Not when Asteria said that her mother was likely to have tried to find her. But how could you find a pebble in a galaxy so large when you didn't even know you were looking for it? Especially if... If her grandmother was the one keeping her away. New anger flashes, raw and open, as she considered that possibility to be the most realistic one. One day, when she was stronger, she was going to grab a pair of spirit-scissors in that spirit-realm and cut down her grandmother's Web. All of it. Shred it to pieces.

Asteria asked her if she would be willing to tell her what happened.

Scherezade nodded. "There was Endelaan, and it was beautiful. The sun always shone and it was warm and safe and good, and my parents were there, and Brayden was there, and even you and Angelo were there," the words flowed out of her, and she was surprised she knew who Angelo was, for this was the first time she had mentioned his name and he had not crossed her mind before that, "and then there was nothing. There was just darkness. But I didn't worry, and I didn't panic, because Brayden was with me. But he vanished as well, and there was nothing but that darkness, until grandma showed up, with those eyes of hers lighting up the darkness and washing it in green. She touched my forehead in that darkness, and suddenly I was on Ryloth in this body. That was a few weeks ago."

She blinked. that was the most words she'd uttered together in a string every since she'd come out of the- the Pebble! She still had it! For some reason she hadn't phantomed yet, she always carried it with her. Quickly, her hands darted into her pocket and...

Wordlessly, she placed it on the table, between her and Asteria.

"Katrine is a Mandagora. I joined them as well. She's training me," she resumed, "and I don't know why this pebble even exists, because Katrine said that I came out of it, so it should've broken or something."

Looking up, the worry was evident on her face. It was her full story, one that she had not yet shared. Sure, Katrine had been there, but they hadn't actually analyzed it or talked about it too in depth. And no one else knew the full extent of it either.

"Most people call me Pebble rather than Scherezade," she admitted, the worry still on her face, not knowing how harshly Asteria would judge her for what had happened, for what she had chosen to do since. Because Asteria was very judgemental. Because Asteria, sitting in front of her, embodied exactly all the terrible and amazing things that she imagined a deWinter would, and she could taste it in the air. No one would ever call her aunt a pebble, or something small.


[member="Asteria deWinter"]

 

[The Girl In Green]

Location- The Entrance Stairs
Gown and Mask- But Where Did She Hide the Guns?
Goal- find Captain [member="Lyla Quinn"], who invited her to this party then LEFT HER BEHIND
Posts-1

And this was why Irma hesitated to say yes when the Captain invited her to this party.

"It'll be fun, she said. Canapes as far as the eye could see, she said. Dance all night with handsome rich idiots, she said," she groused, smoothing the skirt of her dress down, letting the subtle shimmer of the fabric hide the panels. She'd kept this little number in her ruck for sniper jobs that required her to mingle--it travelled well, didn't wrinkle, and (despite the cutouts) wasn't nearly the obscenely showy mess that most socialites seemed to don for galas like this. Plus, it let her take frequent advantage of a fact that she hadn't exactly let the rest of the crew in on:

Like most blondes, she looked damned good in red. And no one questioned whether a blonde in a slinky red dress belonged at one of these events.

In keeping with her dress, she slunk down the entrance stairs, still grousing about the Captain's inconsideration in making her find her own way to this party. It wasn't like she knew anyone else here--gods, she wasn't even invited. Granted, she'd been to plenty of fancy events where she hadn't been invited, but those were all for work, and usually ended with a single gunshot and a quick exit. This time, she was here as a courtesy to the Captain, who seemed to find these kinds of engagements tremendously uncomfortable. And yet, once Meira had gotten a hold of her, babbling something about a dress, the Captain had disappeared entirely, sending her the instructions only by comlink.

It had been sheer luck that the bouncer outside the door was easy to get past without a ticket. He'd definitely been the type who just needed a little shake of the hips and batting of the eyes to completely forget how to do his job. Irma had to allow herself a laugh at how easy it had been. What kind of security was this? If this were a job, she would've had a clear shot at the target in less than fifteen minutes.

But that was then. This was now, and now was time to find Quinn.

Irma sucked in a deep breath, adjusted her simple black domino mask, fluffed out her hair into a halo around her head, and waded into the fray.

"These better be really good canapes..."

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Location: Promenade
Costume: Dress & Mask
Soundtrack: Honey in the Sun
With: [member="Derek Dib"]
Posts: 1

Tmoxin wore a simple black mask and a similarly understated short dress with a feathered bodice - the one dramatic detail - to the Leritor ball. Her short, prismed locks glowed either blonde or red, depending upon the amount of light in the room, lips a pale natural shade, her entire countenance bearing little trace of the Mandragora imprint that had consumed her life for the past few months.

Science, health treatments, anti-aging serums offset any negative effects the darkside of the Force had on the notorious Hapan, but how long could pharmaceuticals keep spiritual perversion away? She’d very wittingly planned on testing that out, like one of the high profile experiments that went on every day in her Kaminoan facilities.

Derek, where are you? I have so much to tell you, she thought, a slight biting of the lower lip her only betrayal of impatience. In fact, she’d felt so renewed by her sojourn away from tombs and Jarts and unflattering layers of black shrouds that she brimmed with a wild radiance as though she’d spent a month on Maramere. Or maybe it was just that Southern Systems rough-around-the-edges thing that seemed to rub off on many members of the Confederacy if they remained long enough.

Yes, so much news indeed, she mused as she scanned the outdoor promenade for the Viceroyal of Siskeen. Of course, she may run into some of the other Confederacy witches, and if that was the case, then yes, she had some explaining to do to have taken on such an important role as Night Mother and then to have disappeared just as quickly as she'd risen.