Seven Seas | CIS Dominion of Leritor

[Derek Dib]

The rain came down in a torrential flood that soaked the two of them standing mere meters apart. Yet no words were spoken. A silence hung pregnant, like the rolling clouds until moments before, while each waited for the other to speak. A longing to share what the other had missed was palpable, but neither continued the conversation.

Seconds turned to minutes as each tried to find the words to express to the other what had transpired since last they had been together. However nothing was spoken. As the ferocity of the rain increased visibility dwindled as they lost sight of one another and the party.

But as the rain abated slightly to where the landscape could be seen once again, neither Derek Dib nor [member="Tmoxin Temi"] were seen. They had vanished under the cover of the rain.

(Out)

 

[Jorco Czeku]

A bit of a smirk crawled on to the Rodian's face. "Oh, well it's quite an honor to meet you my lady." It wasn't everyday that someone like him could just meet nobility. Although she wasn't what he had in mind in regards to company, he was sure that getting to know her would be nice. Despite her young looking age. After speaking he'd respond to her question.

"You could say I have business with The Confederacy. I'm the founder of POM Security, helping the faction's efforts in more forceful and hands on matters." Of course Jorco would refrain from detailing his more shady side. After all he was the leader of a gang on Nar Shaddaa, and corrupt viceroy of Rodia. So although he probably looked liked an angle he certainly wasn't one.

[member= Chikako Liona]

 

[Muad Dib]

Post: 5

The urge to burn down the building and send the inhabitants running as screaming, living torches made his lips twitch mischievously. But the weather was inclined to disagree. As the heavenly gates opened to pour out it's bounty upon the land, the cool rain eased the madness that dwelt just under the surface.

Casting a last glance into the party, sheltered from the elements, he nodded lightly. A reprieve or stay of chaos as it were. Planning his left hand you the railing he vaulted from the balcony two stories down to land in the wet sand. Straightening he moved along the beach, the winds whipping his hair about as Traycn ran alongside it's master. The sith going could feel the madness of his master and answered with a long howl.
Grinning Muad smacked the great Beast's side and motioned down the beach.

"Oya!"

The word sent the tuk'ata running down the shore. Laughing lightly he watched the lightning fork across the sky as if ancient, primordial gods were warring above. Filled with the pleasant thought he continued along the path left by his companion.

(Out)

 

[Chikako Liona]

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Chikako tilted her head to the side a little, clasping her hands together in a child like manner, "and you two mister [member="Jorco Czeku"], it is not often I get to meet someone of a different race". Well ever since she joined the CIS she had not, while still trying to regain her memories gallivanting the Gakaxy the young Echani had run into a many of different species, sentient and non sentient, but in all her travels she was yet to meet a Rodian.

As for the man reasoning to be here, her assessment turned out to be true, "So your a private military contractor of sort then, it is always nice to have more armed people in the confederacy, compared to the Sith Empire our navy is quite small". It may have been a bit odd for a girl her age to be into weaponry and warfare, but that was the Ehcnai way, there race fighters, even for a noble like her, many beasts having fallen to the Duchesses blade in the past, "So mister Jorco, may I ask if you are looking for a dance patener"? Why else would he be on the dance floor, unless the mans mind had the goal of more then just dancing.

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[Fidelis]

• Wearing: Dress and Mask
• Post 2

"Indeed it is, quite unlike celebrations from home. For one, we are indoors, a rare luxury with such a scale." Aya gave [member=Fidelis] a half laugh, not one making much comment but accenting her words all the same. She glanced to the side to the man, sipping the wine in hand and observing what she could. Well, that wasn't exactly all too much, what with the helmet, but it worked all the same. It was a nice suit though. Just, not her style. In either case, she could tell little, save for the telltale signs of his soldiery upbringing, the way he held himself. But, she would not pry, no. Today was a party, after all.

"All the same, 'tis a nice sight to see so many masked faces enjoying a dance. That, at least, is some small pleasure even I can understand." She let the corner of her lips curl slightly, before she continued. "I don't suppose there is aught I can call you, Mr. Trooper? 'Twould ruin the fun of masks to so willingly share our names after all." Of course, there was the possibility he knew full well who she was and had singled her out. Or perhaps not. Either suited the woman, as long as she had company for the evening festivities.

LOCATION: Seven Seas Resort, Performance Venue
AFFILIATION: Confederacy of Independent Systems
MISSION: Gather intel and disseminate
EQUIPMENT: Uniform, Disguise, Weapon
POST COUNT: 2

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"If you say so, ma'am. And what's the point of being here if fun's off the table?"

Fidelis had only recently come to terms with the idea of anonymity. In the First Order, you could tell who was behind the visor of a helmet by the way the soldier walked, spoke, or their position in a lineup. Among peers, even the slightest deviation could positively identify a Stormtrooper to those that had trained with them. The concept of the helmet actually hiding their identities was never discussed at length or even brought up all that much; to the soldiers, it was a purely incidental side-effect. But in speaking to the mystery woman - and a mystery she was, the helmet's lenses doing far more to obscure her than whatever mask she was wearing - Fidelis was reminded of what the rest of the galaxy saw when they thought of the First Order; nameless, faceless, and imposing. One more cog in the endless war machine. Fidelis knew better. Many in the rank and file knew better. If the conversation carried on, so too would she.

The medic set his glass on the table, turning to fully face the woman as he did so. His glass hadn't rested on the counter for three seconds when the bartender - as vigilant and as ready as any soldier Fidelis had known - had spilled some of the same amber liquid onto his hand, having mistaken the gesture as Fidelis being in need of a refill despite not having touched his drink at all; Stormtrooper helmets had various field equipment built into them, but emergency induction ports didn't number among them.

"...and what's the point of a party if I can't drink? Don't tell anyone, yeah?"

Smiling under his helmet, Fidelis pulled the white bulb off and rested it between his feet. His features were sharp, bordering on gaunt, with a small crop of dark brown hair sitting atop a light brown head. He flashed a wider smile towards his conversation partner - far nicer to look at in person than through the eyes of his helmet - before turning to his drink in earnest.

"If anyone asks, I'm Mr. Trooper."

 

[Aryn Teth]

Aryn Teth

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Promenade of The Seven Seas Resort, Leritor, Yucrales Sector, The Mid Rim​

Interacting With: [member="Srina Talon"]​

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The sudden storm had not remotely been expected by the Supreme Commander as he mingled and spoke with the figures outside the Seven Seas that had been already speaking with Srina. Shifting his hand out as he heard her voice, he smirked as he felt her palm gently rest in his own, lifting her up with a careful movement as if she were as delicate as a flower, something that Aryn himself knew was far from the truth. Srina was far from delicate, she was a raging storm, and yet she seemed equally as comfortable in the gown and mask she wore this evening, content to be lifted gently to her feet once more.

As she spoke, he couldn't help but utter a soft chuckle at the words, with wit sharp as always, Aryn didn't bother searching for a response, content to let their banter linger as she turned her attention back towards the others. As he felt the first raindrops begin to fall, Aryn briefly turned his gaze upwards, eyes searching the dark clouds which had rather suddenly formed above, it certainly wasn't what the man had expected, but he held little concern in regards to it, he had always preferred the rain, so long as a warm hearth was nearby.

Turning to follow Srina into the resort proper, his gaze flicked over familiar faces throughout the ballroom as they made their way within. There were numerous faces Aryn recognized, it was almost amusing to him seeing so many familiar figures he had fought alongside during the war now dressed up and enjoying an evening of near-regal festivities. Tucking his hands idly into his pocket, his masked face turned again to settle upon the visage of Srina, his eyes settling upon her own through her mask as he tilted his head towards the dance floor, holding a hand up towards her in offering.

"I can't promise that I won't step on your toes."

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Near Dance Floor
Tags: [member="Aryn Teth"]
Wearing: Dress & Mask

Srina stood inside the grandiose doors of the Seven Seas, catering to the small pup in her arms, when it came to avoiding the rainfall. He was too young, to fragile, to be forced to endure the elements. She lifted him and the Yorshi nuzzled up to her neck, licking her jaw, before laying tiny paws over her bare shoulder to get a view of the room. His little tail wagged so hard that his rear end shook. He was happy. It was infectious, and she felt herself smiling, slightly, for no reason. The mark of the Jart whispered to her, pleased with the connection, no matter how small. It excelled in Beast Mastery, and the canine, while tiny, still counted.

At first, she thought that perhaps both Aryn Teth, and the cultured stranger with the Sithspawn Tuk’ata, would choose other avenues of protection. Despite her desire to understand who the dark-skinned stranger truly was, she could not force him to follow her, and would not deign to beg. Perhaps she could find Darth Metus, before he drank himself into a stupor, and fathered yet more children by accident. He was in a strange, dark place, as of late and she would not easily forgive herself for losing track of him.

A cursory glance told her that he was still at the bar and a brief review of his faculties proved that he still had his wits about him. ‘The weather has changed, Master. Abruptly. It does not feel natural.’

It was the singular warning that she offered to the Vicelord, just in case, he was more perceptive than she. If it was the work of a Force User, he would know it, where she may have missed the subtle movements in the ether. It was then that she felt a familiar presence behind her, and she turned to see the masked face of Aryn Teth, with his hand extended. Srina hesitated. Not because of anything the Jedi had done but because of the little creature in her arms.

‘A moment please, Commander.’

One of the few organic workers walked by, carrying a tray of spirits, and the apprentice stopped the woman before she could leave. If there was any question, or concern, about her abdicating her serving duties the pale Echani would put it to rest. “Please…Inform your superior that Lady Talon requires your assistance. He will need to find someone else to see to his guests.”

Briefly, she scanned the woman, looking for general qualities that would make her wary of handing over something so precious. When the server seemed to melt, Yorshi in hand, Srina knew that her newfound companion would be properly taken care of. “He is hungry. Lightly cooked meat will suffice, minced finely, and a bowl of cream will due. More cream than meat. See to it that he is safe and I will come to collect him before the night is through.”

With the pup taken care of, she turned her focus back to Aryn, and soundless footsteps brought her back to his side. She was certain he was requesting a dance, however, she wasn’t entirely positive it was the best idea. They were already too close because of his Force Bond. She didn’t want the rest of his triumvirate coming down on him for his public associations. It was one thing to fight beside her, yet another entirely, to dance with her. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“We could go investigate the sabacc tables if gambling suits you.”

Her gaze shifted elsewhere. His mask bothered her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, and she couldn’t explain it, but she wanted nothing more than to take it off. Only the sight of the same, blue eyes behind it that she knew so well, kept her from breaking the rules of their own party.

 

[Asteria deWinter]

It wasn't just the child's emotions that could betray her, it was the flush on her cheeks that gave away more than it should have. Yet, Asteria had to remind herself that this was a rapidly grown teenager and not one that had been raised by her parents. Where she had been blessed with raising her daughter for sixteen years, Nessarose had not been able due to the disruption in their lives.

And still, she felt far more versed though that had more to do with her Mother than the child herself. And yet, here she was, a teenager, at the brink of her adulthood and unfortunately, with a childhood lost, the galaxy would not be forgiving and thus, these fast-paced lessons were better for her now than later. Scherezade told them she didn't know any of those things and she was not fit to go home but Asteria had only continued to watch her, study her as the Overlord spoke, pointing out that she would know them sooner than she thought. And as if mirroring her thoughts, he told the Scherezade this galaxy would not allow for a carefree and happy life. A will to fight and hard work had to be implemented.

Success in life requires perseverance, discipline, a sharp mind and an iron will.​

Subtly, lady deWinter had given a tiny nod to those words, her emerald gaze focused on Scherezade as she did. It seemed like the best way to put it, however, his next words made Asteria look at him. Would it surprise her that he came from nothing? "Would it surprise you if I said no?" She returned the question to a question with a simplicity in her tone. Though no deWinter child was privy to the full extent of their mother's past, there was an awareness in that exact situation. Shery deWinter had not been born of nobility nor had she been given the riches she had given her children and yet, all that she had, including the company which was now in Asteria's control had been built from the ground up. So, no, in no way was it hard for Asteria to grasp the possibility in this situation.

Her eyes shifted over to Scherezade as if to point out the importance of this reminder though she did not outright mention her Mother.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"] [member="Darth Tacitus"]​

 

[Aryn Teth]

Aryn Teth

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Promenade of The Seven Seas Resort, Leritor, Yucrales Sector, The Mid Rim​

Interacting With: [member="Srina Talon"]​

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"You're always welcome to simply say no, Srina." He chuckled, the jest in his tone clear as Aryn watched Srina slip away following his offer. He smiled simply, turning his gaze away to the others present around the room as he tucked both of his hands gently behind his back. Hidden behind the visage of his mask, Aryn winced momentarily as his head turned, feeling the interior of it momentarily shift against the fresh scar running along his face. Though the events of the evening might have taken his focus away from it for even the briefest of moments, the subtle pains and shifts would be a constant reminder for some time to the Supreme Commander of the war that was ongoing throughout the galaxy.

Everything here was just a distraction, and pretty and enjoyable as it may have been, it obscured the reality of things, it was little more than a front, a facade. The fact that almost everyone inside wore a mask seemed only more testament to this fact, and Aryn's gaze eventually ceased shifting from figure to figure, settling instead upon an empty spot in the middle of the room, his thoughts suddenly taken far from the room itself.

Even as Srina returned, Aryn took a few moments before he even recognized her presence, his mask turning to face her, the man infinitely pleased that his face was hidden of any embarrassment or anything else that might give him away as he mulled over her words in his head. It was a distraction, all of it, but he was there and in it whether or not he may have been pleased about it, he may as well have at least tried to enjoy himself. "I would say that if anything it's the kind of thing a tabloid on Coruscant could use to show just how well the Confederate-Alliance ties really are." He chuckled briefly, it was a fake one.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd really laughed.

"Yet, if you do not wish for a dance, I won't take offence." He assured her, his blue eyes focused upon her own gently, yet another brief pain flashing through him as his mask shifted once more.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

"We have not had a happy and carefree generation in our family for as long as memory extends," Scherezade said with a little smile, glancing at her aunt. She referred, of course, to both legacies. The Family of Darkness had risen from the darkness to which they were born. The deWinters, sprouted out of that, hadn't had an easy time either, though the generation her aunt belonged to probably had the longest stretch of a golden era.

"And no, it does not," she added, echoing her aunt.

Yes, the memory of grandmother's life flashed in her mind. From slave to a common whore to the Dark Lady of the Sith. She'd come from less than nothing, and had built herself. And along the way, destroyed the one thing that she should have not; her own family. But such thoughts were not to be given voice. Not at this place. Not at this table. And never ever in front of Asteria deWinter.

But Scherezade's tale was a vastly differet one. She had not been born with nothing. On the contrary, she'd been born with everything. A princess in line of two powerful bloodlines, a safe planet which by its very design would have honed to her be a force to be reckoned with before her age hit two digits, parents who were perfect, and financial access to all her needs.

And all that had been taken away from her before she even spoke her first word.

"I must learn and become better," she finally said, her cheeks still a red, albeit this time the red was beginning to leave her. There was nothing new about it though; she had arrived at this conclusion on the very night she'd ceased being a pebble. "I'm just not sure how," she admitted. Later, she would think about whether it was right to say this in front of Lord Wolfe. But her Aunt... There was no reason to hide it from her. "Studying and expanding abilities with the Force is almost as natural as breathing. But it's far from being enough."



[member="Darth Tacitus"] [member="Asteria deWinter"]

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

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Post #5​

Attn: [member="Asteria deWinter"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Srina Talon"]​

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• Ballroom
  The Seven Seas Luxury Resort, Leritor

The Overlord responded to Asteria's words with a secret smile of his own. "I suppose not," he said to her. He also did not fail to notice the look she gave her niece. There were very few things he did not notice, over the years having developed an extraordinary attention to detail, which had, many times, saved his life and allowed him to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

When Scherezade responded, she did so with wisdom that was beyond her age, confirming Wolfe's suspicion that she had a lot of potential, if helped to develop by one who knew how to nurture it. However, he concluded that she would still be far too delicate for an apprenticeship under him, which she might not survive, at least emotionally. Besides, her aunt would probably disprove of what would be the harsh treatment of her relative, but it remained to be seen if this girl could change his mind about taking her under his wing.

"The Force is a... complicated subject," he said, deciding to probe a little further by throwing the women a few hints of his philosophy and observing their reactions. "If I were you, I would not rely upon it so completely. Make no mistake about it, the Force is the ultimate deceiver and manipulator. The ultimate drug, if you will. If you are not careful, it will completely overcome your individuality and drag you along into the current. For that, you have to discipline your mind. You must control it, but you must never allow it to control you," he explained. "Just look at the Jedi. Almost all traces of their individuality gone, erased. Puppets enslaved to the current, if you will, religious fanatics who believe themselves the ultimate arbitrators of morality, yet in the end, they themselves are unable to realize that their own doctrine is immoral, for what they advocate for, is such a pervasive erosion of freedom, that it erases one's very concept of self."

"Force wielders often also tend to fall victims to the belief in their own invincibility. They believe that their ability makes them invulnerable against those who are not Force sensitive, only to fall to the first non-Force wielder with a slugthrower or an ysalamir. You would do well to remember that the Force is not the end-all, be-all solution to every problem, that it can fail you when you least expect it, for reasons beyond your control and you must plan accordingly."

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Near Dance Floor
Tags: [member="Aryn Teth"]
Wearing: Dress & Mask

“You know that isn’t what I meant, Commander.”, Srina returned softly while the dark-haired man laughed a little at her expense. His smile warmed her skin, but she froze, when something painful marred the generally pleasant emotions that ran between them. Silver eyes filled with curiosity. Often she felt distant pains, aches, and disturbances through the bi-directional line of communication that ran between them. They were soldiers. Warriors. Injuries happened. What plagued him was recent. New.

The porcelain beauty wanted to reach up and remove his mask. She wanted to see what bothered him beneath it, not to mention, that something about it left her unsettled. More than ever she wished to see the face which she had come to know so well. Srina returned to Aryn after seeing to her new canine friend, long skirts in hand, to keep from falling. He seemed to be distracted. Somewhere else—which truthfully was a rarity.

When the Commander remained at her side he was always present. On occasion, when times grew difficult, she reminded him of who he was. What, he was. But he was always with her. He began to tease her about the Coruscant tabloids and the Sith Apprentice laughed lightly, despite herself, because as much as he might have been joking it was the truth. The general public seemed to be obsessed with his every move, his every conversation, and the credit payout for candid or personal holo-vid recordings was absolutely absurd. “You aren’t wrong. Though, I can imagine, it won’t please the rest of the Triumverate.”

Srina paused when his eyes met her own. Blue clashed with silver—and again she saw his discomfort. Pain.

“I said that I was uncertain if it was wise…Not that I didn’t want to.”, she spoke after a moment, lengths of white hair glimmering under the lights, as if twined with stars. She approached him carefully and rest her hand on his shoulder, reaching up on her tiptoes, so that she could remove his mask with the other. She pulled from the chin, gently, and breathed in deeply when the fresh wound across his skin made itself visible. “Aryn…What is this? You’re hurt…”

He was still recovering from the last battle and yet he’d still found the time to come to Leritor? Why? Their public appearance was solid. Relations between the Alliance and the Confederacy were just as strong as they had ever been. One missed event would not detract from all the good they had done. Still holding his mask she let go of his shoulder to caress his cheek, near to the tail of the wound, but not directly brushing against it. She didn’t want to hurt him further. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be resting not forcing yourself to play the diplomat. Are you sure you're up to this?”

 

[Aryn Teth]

Aryn Teth

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Promenade of The Seven Seas Resort, Leritor, Yucrales Sector, The Mid Rim​

Interacting With: [member="Srina Talon"]​

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Amusement crossed Aryn's mind as Srina mentioned the triumvirate, as well as their own personal feelings in regards to the friendship he had developed with Srina. It had not really come up aside from the occasional vague slight from Caita Xan, but as they had said, tabloids and other forms of media had enjoyed their fill of the Confederate-Alliance relations, a connection a large chunk of the galaxy still seemed to find a great deal of absurdity with. His thoughts briefly lingered on the amusement, on the levity in her words, when he saw her take a step towards him.

Unsure of her intentions initially, Aryn raised a brow but made no move to retreat, seeing as she closed the distance and gently rested a hand upon his shoulder. It was only when he felt the feather-soft touch of her fingers upon his mask that he knew what she planned, by that point he made no effort to stop her, simply letting out a gentle sigh of relief as the mask was slowly and gently pulled away from the scar that ran over his face. He felt as her hand gently rested upon his cheek, feeling the thoughts that rolled through her mind before she even spoke to make them known, he had expected them well enough, and in fact had been pleased to avoid them through the wearing of his mask, yet, it seemed that even that would not deter Srina Talon from getting to the bottom of things.

"It's nothing, Srina, it's already been looked at, just a scratch." He assured her, forcing a gentle smile as he looked down at the woman who stood before him. Reaching up, he gently set his hand on her elbow, watching her closely as he shrugged his shoulders. "Besides, I've had worse." He commented again with a shrug, sighing as he turned his gaze briefly over to the dancers again, before looking back towards her. "You're not going to drag me off to get it looked at, are you?"

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Near Dance Floor
Tags: [member="Aryn Teth"]
Wearing: Dress & Mask

His face was a welcome sight. Even with the ugly, raw scar that ran betwixt his eyes, marring his flesh, she felt a sense of relief. The mask that he had chosen for this event was a little too on the nose. There were times when she felt silvers of darkness in him and it startled her to see it on his face, whether he was just playing pretend, or not. It felt like an omen. In a singular moment, she felt fear. She had not felt such a bleak emotion on Tatooine, with the High Moff that ran her through, or when she’d pulled the poisoned sword out.

But she felt it now. It was sharp, cutting, like the edge of a freshly whetted dagger.

Silver eyes searched his, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but he began speaking before she could get too far. As much as she relied on the Force Bond between them there was something satisfying about reading him without it. He had become a friend, close enough, that she could tell how he was feeling simply by his expression. She knew he would deny the pain of it before the words left his lips. “Of course, just a scratch.”

Men.

She could imagine her Master saying the same thing with half of his intestines hanging out. ‘Srini, don’t worry, it’s just a scratch.’ Right. Still, her hand remained on his cheek, expression softening from behind her feathered mask. She felt his hand on her arm but didn’t pull away, the wheels of her mind already turning, as she gingerly touched just skin at the very edges of the ragged mark. “Aryn…It doesn’t matter that you’ve had worse. That isn’t the point.”

It was the fact that he was hurt at all. That he had to feel pain, that he had endured that awful aggravating mask, was what upset her. There was a difference between obeying the rules of a party and his own welfare. Surely, he knew that. His eyes left her own, turning toward the dancefloor, but she remained still when he mentioned her pulling him away to get it looked at. She froze. Srina barely seemed to be alive, pretty as a picture, but little more than a mannequin. If she breathed he wouldn’t be able to see it until her chest rose so that she could speak… “No. I won’t.”

Instead she pulled on the Force. He would feel the current of it move, welling within her, as her vision became clouded. Instead of seeing him truly, as he was, she could only see the wound. It was a long red line, swirling angrily, with spider-web fractures rolling beneath the surface of his skin. A little swelling, inflammation, but the damage aside from the wound itself didn’t seem to be too extensive. Just irksome. She was getting better at seeing an injury for what it was, at knowing where to press the Force, and when to let it lightly flow. Some wounds required more effort than others.

Some, like gaping holes, were out of her reach.

Warmth would flow from the hand that still held his face. The technique of transferring energy had only ever occurred to her, or her Master, more recently. It had been within his toolkit but until she’d applied it to Scherezade he had never known the true extent of what it could do. Healing was considered within the skillset of a Jedi. That wasn’t exactly true. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

She could feel strength draining from her, flowing like water pouring into an endless basin, but she would not stop. Something about Aryn seemed to want more. It was not the same as healing Katrine’s young ward. For as much as she healed, watching the scar turn pink, healthy, he devoured that much more. When she stopped her hand fell away and she gasped, breathing deep, as if she had forgotten how. It had taken more out of her than she’d anticipated. For such a small wound, she wasn’t sure why, but she could see the difference. Instead of looking fresh, barely healed over, it was old.

It wouldn’t hurt him now. Srina could not accept his pain. Not when she could take it away. Quietly her small form leaned against his, unsteady, but still standing. She felt a little shaky. Wrong. As if she’d been microwaved from the inside out. Was it because he was a Jedi? The snow-kissed apprentice wasn’t sure.

 

[Aryn Teth]

Aryn Teth

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Promenade of The Seven Seas Resort, Leritor, Yucrales Sector, The Mid Rim​

Interacting With: [member="Srina Talon"]​

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Aryn couldn't help the smile that split his lips as Srina spoke, he could feel the concern that flowed from her, but he could see it as well. When he had met Srina she had been an enigma to him, stony and distant, a blank slate almost impossible to read, yet as the two had grown closer she had begun to open up more and more, as she knew fell well he was within her mind, she had stopped bothering to hide things from him, and it had exposed an entirely different side of her that before he doubted he ever would have witnessed.

Yet, as she spoke again, he saw the stony visage return, yet it was different to when he had first met her, she was not trying to hide anything or study him, she had fallen into the force, it had engulfed her suddenly as her eyes focused upon the wound. He could feel the force flowing through her, the waves surging through her as she examined his wound. He felt the warmth in her hand, the force flowing out of her and into him. He felt it, but not in a way that he wished.

He followed the current, the ebbs and flows of the force as it moved from her hand and into him, almost immediately, a void engulfed it. The light and warmth was sucked clean out in a vampiric fury, dragging the very energy she poured into him into the depths of his own darkness, only the fringes of her energy lingered to do as had been intended. "Srina..." He spoke softly, concern evident in his voice as he urged her, his hand moving up from her elbow to rest upon the one she had on his cheek, gently moving to take it in his grip, yet he knew he could not dissuade her.

He fought the urge, the silent and blackened void within him which continued to draw in her power, but he could do little to stop it. As time went on, Aryn had become increasingly powerless against the singularity that lay at the core of his power, and he knew it all too well.

As she leaned against him, his free hand gently moved up to rest upon her waist, steadying her as he turned his gaze town towards her, a frown of concern lingering as his gaze focused entirely upon her form. "I'm sorry..." He spoke in hushed tones, leaning down as he allowed the feather-touch of his lips to brush over her forehead. "...And thank you."

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Near Dance Floor
Tags: [member="Aryn Teth"]
Wearing: Dress & Mask

Srina did not understand. It should have not felt like this, to mend one wound, even as little as she had. It had already begun to heal, she had simply urged it along, speeding up the timetable so that it would become infected or cause any further discomfort. She could hear her name, feel his hand wrapped in his, yet she stubbornly would not stop. She did not need to touch his face to see her will be done. If it took more than normal she would give it—Blindly. “Just a little more…”, she whispered, following the crumbling trail that her energy left behind. Was there some deeper wound? Her concern rose as she searched, uncertain of what she was looking for, but knowing, it was there.

“What…What is wrong? What is this?”

She began to see. A hole. Fathomless dark. Hungry. Her energy disappeared into the black, like a gaping, maw that could never be satiated. It echoed. Not with words, but with ravenous ripples that drew her closer, nearer, akin to gravity. Inevitability.

Her eyes snapped open when she felt a pale kiss to her forehead. All at once the sound of an orchestra returned to her ears. The sight of Aryn Teth. The earthen scent that belonged to him, twining with expensive confections, and even more expensive spirits. Perfume. Rain. She could hear each drop falling, bit by bit, in such a way that she eventually exhaled. She remembered breathing in…But then nothing. Nothing but a weaving, growing behemoth that reminded her of an inverted supernova with no end.

Instead of exploding outward—everything pulled in.

The typically independent woman let his hand remain on her waist, mostly because she didn’t realize it was there, but also because she was certain her legs would not hold her. She would suffer the indignity of being held up by someone else, to avoid the larger blow to her pride, which involved falling flat on the floor in a shimmer-silk gown. The mask would not save her from the embarrassment. There were only so many white-haired silver eyed women that attended Confederate events.

The mask that she had been holding onto with her free hand clattered to the floor. It likely went unnoticed when considering the generally drunken stupor of the guests, but Srina heard it, loud enough that she flinched. The hand that held it reached up to curl in his lapel, making sure that he was still there, solid, and real. Once confirmed her slender form leaned closer to the Supreme Commander on instinct, for just a moment, while she caught her breath and found her center. She didn’t know what she had felt within Aryn Teth. Only, that now, he had returned to the person she knew, warm, and breathing.

She dared not reach inside again. Not that far—not to place she had never been. Whatever lay hidden beneath the light felt like it wanted to consume all that she was. Everything that she had ever been. Her confusion and concern would be palpable…But despite it all, she held faith. She had fought beside him, he had saved her life, on more than one occasion, and it left her no reason to doubt him. Srina trusted him just as much as she trusted her Master. That was profound, especially, for the unfeeling Echani she tended to be.

“…Don’t be sorry. You know I can’t stand to see you in pain…Not if I can take it away…”

As the moments passed, she began to feel more like herself, and the room stopped spinning. The Force was filling in the energy she had exhausted, causing her concern to turn to questions. She was curious. Srina was always curious. Aryn would feel that too.

 

[Aryn Teth]

Aryn Teth

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Promenade of The Seven Seas Resort, Leritor, Yucrales Sector, The Mid Rim​

Interacting With: [member="Srina Talon"]​

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As Srina was drawn into the void, transferring her power into him only to have it devoured by what lay within, Aryn could see the confusion upon her face, and within her heart, there was another thing he could see, something that he was sure no others in the room would have noticed as it did not register upon her face, he saw fear for the briefest moment as she faced it, as she saw what lay within and was dragged back from its brink. For a time she was pulled away, he felt as his actions dragged her thoughts and her focus far from what had lay within him, but gradually they began to return as well, the Jedi letting out a soft sigh as he heard the words on Srina's lips.

"Unfortunately, Srina, there are some things neither of us can take away." He spoke in a hushed tone, one only she would have been able to hear as he watched her, it carried with it the undertone that now was not the time to sate her curiosity, yet he hoped perhaps his words would have done something to calm her.

It was only as Aryn turned his gaze downwards towards the mask upon the floor that he realized his hands had moved down to catch the woman as she fell, gently resting upon her hips as Srina leaned against him, not allowing herself to properly fall and embarrass herself in front of all those who stood within the ballroom with them. She had always been the stubborn one, and so Aryn was not remotely surprised, gently moving his hand as he gripped her to help right herself, his eyes locked upon hers.

"It's best saved for another time, should we sit? I don't know if your feet would quite hold you well enough for a dance now."

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Near Dance Floor
Tags: [member="Aryn Teth"]
Wearing: Dress & Mask

Srina was uncertain in the presence of the Supreme Commander, for perhaps the first time, since he had fostered a bond between them. At first she had almost resented him. His presence within her mind and her presence within his had seemed to spell disaster for everything they had worked for. Now, things had changed. The Echani had expected her Master to see, to feel, something so profound…Yet he did not. Instead of weakening ties between the Confederacy and the Alliance—they had strengthened immeasurably.

Aryn Teth had become part of her strength, part of her backbone, and held a large part in why she resisted the darkness. She feared that if she fell, he would follow, and that his people would be lost. There was not a single leader among them. Not one who could command, strategize, and make the necessary sacrifices for the greater good. To realize that there was something unexplainable, nigh unstoppable, already living within him…It was jarring.

The man sighed and Srina frowned at his words, just slightly. “Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, my Jedi.”

Stubborn was right. She would exhaust herself over and over just to see the wound on his face healed. She could not bear it. The slender woman could feel his hands adjust on her hips, holding her upright with a certain degree of respect, and chivalry. It was everything that anyone could expect of the leader of the Alliance, gallantry and magnanimity, all compressed neatly into the form of a striking force user from Eriadu. His eyes fell to her own and despite the questions swirling in her mind, she bit her tongue, and let it be for now.

Whatever it was that lay at his core was not appropriate to discuss in public. That much, just from the feel of it, as well as his aversion, she understood completely. He offered to cancel the dance he had requested, and suggested they sit instead, and the ever tenacious woman again shook her head. She didn’t want to sit. She was too tense for that.

Already leaning against him, she turned her head, resting it neatly against his chest as she gave him the rest of her meager weight. The slender apprentice felt off. Typically, she felt safe near him, secure, and she was determined to return banish any fear. “Just…Stay. Just for a few minutes.”

“Once I catch my breath and the room stops playing topsy-turvey you will have your dance. We must both put in the required appearances.”

 

[Aryn Teth]

Aryn Teth

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Near the Dance Floor of The Seven Seas Resort, Leritor, Yucrales Sector, The Mid Rim​

Interacting With: [member="Srina Talon"]​

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It was easy at times for Aryn to forget what Srina truly was. Her master was a Sith lord, admittedly one far different from those that Aryn had faced down in battles across the galaxy, but still, the dark side of the force flowed through her body, through her mind. And he knew that it called to her, that the void within him called out and lured the apprentice deeper. As he heard Srina speak again, he remembered that Srina Talon was not only stubborn, not merely curious, it was her very nature he was asking her to battle against. It echoed for a moment in his mind just how different the two were.

And yet he stood where he was, his hands gently resting upon her hips, holding her up as he felt Srina's weight press against him, felt the softness of her cheek against his chest. He heard the request in her voice, and there was no need for her to repeat it, Aryn did not move an inch, he could not. Though he realized the harm that could be done to her by the well of darkness within his very being, he could not allow himself to step away, even when he knew that it would ensure she was safe.

He had to fight to force such thoughts from his mind, focusing instead upon the feeling of Srina's breath against his chest, of her body against his.

"Very well, if you're still up to it." He forced the words to sound as normal as he could, he still did not feel comfortable, still did not feel right, yet things would return to normal as they had before, he was sure of that. They had to.

 

[Srina Talon]

Location: Near Dance Floor
Tags: [member="Aryn Teth"]
Wearing: Dress & Mask

The Sith Apprentice remained silent while the Supreme Commander obliged her request. She could feel his thought patterns forming, fully, before breaking away into some new tree of deliberation. She breathed the comforting familiarity of him in, while an almost amused smile touched the edges of rose-tinted lips before she hid it against the wall of his chest. How storybook sweet he could be, without meaning to, and clearly without realizing that she knew. “I’m not afraid of you, Commander.”, she uttered quietly, the edges of her mask getting caught on the finely pressed military uniform he seemed so fond of.

“After all…Shouldn’t you be the one frightened of me? The Confederacy…They do call me the Dread Queen. And, I’m pretty sure, that your Alliance thinks we’ve bewitched you.”

The Jedi thought himself the big bad rakghoul but between the two of them, Srina was the one that found strength in darkness, while he still walked in his precious light. She was the one tarnishing his reputation, just by proximity, whereas her own people didn’t really seem to care who she associated with. Just so long as she got the job done and their expenses, losses, were kept to a reasonable amount. She was efficient when it came to securing member worlds and loyalty. Mostly, it was because she spoke plainly, and used a tone that brooked no argument.

“The one thing I don’t need protection from is you.”

For all of her perceived stillness, he seemed to be emulating her quite well. She had requested that he stay, not that he turn to stone, and his forced words caused her to lean back so that she could look up at him. Silver eyes searched his, mercurial and reflective as if they held the light of stars. The masked woman didn’t speak but instead pulled back, slowly, letting her hand fall to catch his. Srina didn’t look away, feeling her way through the crowd with the Force, leading them to the full dance floor.

They would hardly stick out among the gilded guests, although, Aryn’s mask had temporarily been forgotten. She had every confidence that he would find it later, considering the thing was karking hideous, but more than anything, she didn’t want to see it right now. Whether she felt a hundred percent on not she was tired of the awkward distance his secret had created. Whatever it was, it felt old and had definitely been there the day they’d met. Nothing had changed. He was still himself.

Srina brought his hand up with her own and twirled lightly beneath his arm. Light of foot, despite the capricious shoes she wore, she spun delicately into him—letting her free hand find his shoulder. The quicksilver sprite of a woman issued a brief and unfathomable smile when they fell in time with the orchestra. Her skill in movement would extend through many forms, be it combat, or dance. Even this endeavor, though entirely mundane, held some sort of give and take that she could find value in. It was the closest way that most humans could even begin to relate to the way Echani learned to speak, utilizing perception, and body language to decipher what went unspoken. Even then, it was desperately lacking, but given the right partner...It came close.

Aryn would find quickly that he did not lead the sweeping pivots and careful spins because it was expected, or because he was the male in the equation, but because the woman in his arms allowed him to. It would become apparent in the way she sinuously met his every step, and nearly challenged him, before falling in line seamlessly, as if had never happened at all.

Her eyes were teasing, almost, and despite her blank expression he would feel the amusement in her.

At the very least the Echani planned to keep him on his toes.