Private So Far Away

[Irveric Tavlar]

DE PURTEEN | ORD CANTRELL
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER SPACE
Natasi Fortan

So Far Away​

A reprieve, even if only faint. Irveric and his unit rotated back from the front of what escalated to be the second stage in the New Imperial Order's war on the Sith Empire. It was past the point of being a Civil War, the New Imperial Order did more than enough to establish its own sovereignty and the Sith had willed the rest of the Galaxy to be involved. It was a cataclysm in the making, the moment of reckoning.

As the lines on the map continued to move side and side in this new disembarked campaign, Irveric's mind tired the burden of command just as his body tired of the toll of war. He'd feel more guilty if he wasn't there himself, most any other head of state would send their fighting men and women to war without ever seeing the very venue of the war they started. His troopers in the 501st, the COMPFORCE got their well due respite all the same on Ord Cantrell. Though Imperialism was an ever present trait living under the Iron Sun, exempt only perhaps in the worlds allowed as fully autonomous zones governed by the Mandalorians-in-exile, Ord Cantrell was largely spared the touch of spartanist pragmatism that was set in the foundations and skylines of most New Imperial hubs.

Ord Cantrell worked on a higher strata.

And it was the chosen retreat of the Imperator, for when the fires of war burned too hot or for when Ravelin grew too loud. It felt far too opulent for his taste, but so didn't everything. He was born into the very city he'd just put to the torch, Garang and later, bound to military service for his adult life. He was a stranger to this higher strata, this 'good' way of living.

Those tibanna burns, scars and lacerations of the flesh were still fresh, that searing pain stinging his skin in the waning sunlight.

Good.

A reminder that he was alive at all, a reminder of what it took to get back.

<"The Supreme Commander will be arriving shortly, Imperator."> The Nova Commando corresponded to Irveric. He nodded once, pulling the cigar to his lips with another pull of the sweet smoke, peering over the water front with a narrowed eyes as the lights of the dusk began to dot the skyline of the pristine Ord Cantrell city. A contrasting sensory envelopment to the broken, ash bathed streets of a Garang City lit aflame, he got lost in the view for a moment, focusing on it even if only to set aside the voices of the specters of the past in his subconsciousness.

Leaning against the glass and metal railing for a moment, tuning his ears to the idle music that was inlaid to the periphery of his sense before soon he turned to see her. At the night of her Coronation he proposed the idea, of her leaving the far reaches of the Unknown Regions and venture to New Imperial space personally and thus, here she arrived. It lacked the awe worthy scale of Ravelin or Harnaidan nor was it likely the better fitting impression that Nirauan might have been, but it was a slice of the Order none the less. And he assumed all the same, she could get away from the noise and expectations that came with being in her position, being in their position as the leaders and the embodiment of the identities of their two nations. One, a woman of grace, etiquette...the other, a man of sternness, abrasive. No better fit to represent.

But here, it was a bit out of the scope than what Castle Rosewood offered, a true opportunity to meet the minds, face to face without the looming expectations that came with a night with expectations awaiting either of them or the ritualism that came with a state visit to either respective capital. In a higher end district of De Purteen, set aside for a swath of New Imperial High Command, they were comfortably out of the eye of the public or media.

Donned in a uniform identical to that which he donned at the Coronation Ball, showing that it was no unique or worthwhile garment even if it was fitting of his station, Irveric hated to decide what to wear. Different from that night only in that his eyes were far more weary, his flesh reddened and marred from battle.

"Miss Fortan, Most grateful to see you took up my offer, I'm sure a change of scenery could never hurt, certainly not one of this nature...and a chance to speak, unburdened by the eyes of the Galaxy." Irveric offers, prodding a jest at the very title Ariel Yvarro lashed at Djorn Bline for imposing on Fortan at the diplomatic first contact of their two nations, raising that cigar to his lips once more to take in a draw of the sweetened herb, leaning himself back against the railing once more, facing her he is seemingly less equipped with the same ettiquette he sported in Avalonia but, in the moment, he all the reason not to be given the far less gaudy circumstances.

"How has it all been treating you? Being 'back in the saddle' as it were?" He inquired, arching a brow. Their styles of leadership were...dramatically different, in spite of the ideologically identicality. Where Irveric was closer in line with what Natasi's title truly was, a Supreme Commander of a largely militarized state, Fortan was a stateswoman through and through.

For the moment, he equipped himself in a largely light inflection to an otherwise stoic tone, if only to distract himself from a far heavier weight on his shoulders that constantly burdened him. His nation...and his war.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

DE PURTEEN | ORD CANTRELL
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER SPACE

​

Tag: Irveric Tavlar

Natasi had seen something of the city since her arrival. It was beautiful, to be certain. Interesting buildings made from expensive materials, lush green spaces and flowing fountains dotting her view. It spoke of luxury, excess, and pleasure. In another life, she could see herself there as a visitor: the countess of some barely-significant county on Galidraan, honeymooning with an unremarkable husband, living an inconsequential life for which a highlight was a trip to a luxurious resort city. She couldn't help but feel derision for that version of herself, though she knew very little about that imagined facsimile of her. She probably had a brood of children and did charity work, treated her servants well and entertained important visitors. But it wasn't enough.

Perhaps it was harsh, she thought as she was transported to the meeting location with Irveric Tavlar , that what she thought of as an unfulfilling, boring, wasted life was something countless millions of people across the galaxy longed for. For them it would be enough to have a warm place to rest and enough food to eat and safety. The realization made Natasi's creed of noblesse oblige feel less altruistic and more self-serving. Something to pack away and self-flagellate herself with later, as her transport was slowing to a stop.

Still, she reflected as she emerged from the transport and was escorted into the presence of the Sovereign Imperator, it was a testament to what was possible with the restrained application of imperial values. The city was a beacon of prosperity, while so many others burned in conflicts as Sith Lords struggled for dominance, or rotted from within as so-called democratic societies allowed themselves to be corrupted. It wasn't perfect, but the First Order and the New Imperial Order had, at least, shown that greatness could be accomplished with imperial ideology.

"Sovereign Imperator," Natasi said with a gentle bob of her head. Not quite a bow or curtsy, but a sign of respectful deference to her host's position as leader of space she was now in. "You honor me with your invitation. It is certainly a beautiful place to be." The Supreme Leader moved forward to join Tavlar at the magnificent vista. She was clad quite differently from her coronation ball, in a conservative black dress and blazer, adorned by an Enlightened Balance brooch and her rank badge. She smiled broadly at his call-back to the summit and the exchange between Ariel Yvarro and Djorn Bline "You know, I wasn't going to say a word about it, but my cousin is... something of an untamed nexu when it comes to things like that. There's no leashing or muzzling her, I'm afraid." She fell silent and allowed her eyebrows to loft, as if to say: believe me, I've tried.

"It is an adjustment," she replied frankly. "In my previous life I was in a position of significant power and I was expected to act. Being a Grand Moff was, in some ways, much easier than being Supreme Leader. Then, I had a silent partner, a bad cop if you will, that I could refer to to stop things getting out of hand. The Supreme Leader will never agree was all it took to shut someone down. Now I am Supreme Leader and I have no bad cop. Alas, I can't complain too much, least of all to you. The First Order is prosperous and growing in relative peace." She paused and clasped her hands in front of her. "How goes the war? If you can talk about it, of course."

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

So Far Away​

He all but smiled along with her as he pulled the cigar to his lips once, cherishing that faint elysian that came with each pill, each draw of the sweetened smoke a split moment for the mind to rest, take in the venue around him.

“I hope I’m in my right to assume you needed it- a break in the tedium, let the lion’s share of the burdens fall for a moment.” He offered, turning slightly in his pose to face her more directly. When she unfurled the silence over Ariel he offered a faint laugh.

“She’s a fiery one. It’ll serve her well, most anyone you can trust to succeed is the very same way. But...it all comes down to as a negligible difference in culture...titles...aren’t so important. Not to me at least...and I find those most fit for them...are the ones who never wanted them at all.” Irveric states before he lets her continue on, expressing the dynamic between herself and her once superior now subordinate. It wasn’t all too dissimilar to how he assumed the late Vizier Tyrell Paxxus . Though Tyrell had rarely ever bothered him with inferior issues, he knew what was better in Tavlar’s hands and what he could handle in his. It was a nigh perfect dynamic, the two were men who respected one another greatly, with Tavlar confiding in the ‘greybeard’ Paxxus more than he could recall. There was an intangible chemistry, it wasn’t until Dantooine that he ever knew why.

And now his father was gone...and Irveric was once more sole leader.

“And now all the cards are yours to play...a blessing and a curse all at once, one I know all too well.” Irveric remarks in clear sympathy, being they were mirrored equivalents of one another under different banners.

In regards to her question, his gaze shifts from hers for a moment, those new wounds bleeding into her clear view as he does.

“The war...goes well enough. It’s grown bigger than it once had been. The Sith fought alone...but now? We live in a different Galaxy...Silver Jedi and Confederates both joined them side by side...” He takes a pull from his cigar once more with closed eyes, a deeper one than he had any time prior here before letting the smoke bellow out from between his lips.

“I wanted to return home, to Dantooine. And the Galaxy manifested to stop me.” He says, a glimpse of bitterness seeping into his words. Though the fate of the world still seemed nebulous on a strategic scale. Any push either way would make one side victorious over the other.

“I suppose I’ll just have to make sure none of them can return to theirs...I’m right to assume you’ve never seen it? The field of battle, combat? You don't seem the type but- I'm always suprised.” He inquired, arching a brow to her as he ashes out the cigar on a nearby ash tray. He had every right to assume on face value that she never had.

Natasi Fortan​

​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

DE PURTEEN | ORD CANTRELL
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER SPACE

​

Tag: Irveric Tavlar

"It's funny you should mention that," Natasi said. "Tedium, that is. I don't feel it at all. Perhaps it is the benefit of having been dead once before, but I feel that every day is simply brimming with excitement. But there are days when the ceremony, the pomp and pageantry of it all feels a little too much. As Grand Moff I went into my office and shut the door and did things but now everyone wants to see me." She paused and offered a sardonic apology. "Forgive me; perhaps it is the travel or perhaps the atmosphere, but I find myself waxing philosophical with a loosened tongue. It's not ideal."

She was sure the Sovereign Imperator had not invited her all this way to listen to her complain, and in any event she did feel it was rather absurd. She lived a life of privilege and luxury and power; was it such a high price to pay to have people love her, even if that love came with some level of intrusion and inconvenience? And yet, the way he spoke -- "a blessing and a curse all at once" -- led her to understand that she was understood. She chewed a question, letting it gestate for the time being, as she listened to his report on the war.

"It is the damnedest thing," said Natasi, clasping her hands behind her back as she began to pace a little, stretching her legs but always keeping her attention on her host. "Perhaps I'm dating myself, but I'm old enough to remember when there were no more bitter enemies than the Sith Empire and the Confederacy. And yet, here they stand, united against you." She offered a knowing smirk. "Well, one day when the historians are writing the achievements of the New Imperial Order, among them will be this strange legacy. And much more, of course."

The Supreme Leader was taken aback by Tavlar's commentary on her own experience. She chuckled to hide the scoff. "That is not an unreasonable assumption, I suppose, given..." her voice trailed off and she did a kind of whole-body shrug, as if to refer to her entire being. She was often seen in the feminine, probably painfully old-fashioned garb of a Galidraani noblewoman. That was how people saw her, she realized once, and had been pleased to play to that. Many people had underestimated her before. The Galactic Alliance. The Outer Rim Coalition. The Ssi-Ruuk Imperium.

They were dead.

She was alive.

Natasi went on: "But, no, it is quite wrong. One doesn't like to grandstand, but I suppose -- just this once and seeing we're alone -- I led one of the First Order's battlegroups during the Omega Crisis and saw action in several of our battles with the Galactic Alliance. Not to mention the many, many conflicts that saw the First Order's expansion from galactic backwater to galactic superpower. I was on the front lines as often as not, though I didn't always see combat."

She stopped there; it wasn't a contest, and she wouldn't put her military record against his any day of the week. He would have the upper hand regardless. "I was not born for it," said Natasi after a moment's reflection. "My parents would be horrified to know that I'd been involved at all, let alone in command, regardless of the outcome. On Galidraan, my gender and my class ought to have limited my exposure to any kind of violence beyond, say, a spirited polo match." She stopped pacing and canted her head to one side.

"You strike me as someone born for it," she said. In the moment she had meant it as a complement, but somehow on consideration, Natasi felt it was more of a lamentation or apology. "Born for war" was, after all, very close to "born to die."

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

So Far Away​

He let her speak on as much as she wished. This was one of those rare opportunities, at least one that came the way of either of them. Alone, with no obligations, able to let flow the train of thought without worries of stepping on any toes or sensitivities. If Irveric appeared to be any man, it was one not so easily bothered by word or sentiment of any measure.

"They might have been...so too were the Sith and First Order strung as allies...times change. It took the Galaxy alight in flames for the Imperial to stand on its own, we don't need their cults, we don't need their 'guiding hand'. In short...we scare them, nations like mine, yours. It's proven definitively...that our fate is our own...and the wool over our eyes lifted, we've given control back to those who deserve it. The Imperial, the people...whatever have you. That terrifies them, the Jedi, the Sith, the Obsidian...all of them." Irveric states, letting bleed through his own belief system and rhetoric into his words.

"But no- I would've never taken you one for battle, you recover a great deal better than I do, if I might say...that's for certain." He says with a faint grin, offering a brief appraisal of her figure before his gaze shifts to match hers again. Again, he couldn’t see it. Her beauty was measured, molded to make due on her station as the leader, the identity of her people. Much as he was, with his visible wounds and scars, wholly imperfect and damaged upon even the faintest inspection.

Good.

Once more, an eternal testament to what he endured.

He stepped toward her, offering his crimson cybernetic hand out as if to take her arm, to walk.

“Born for war...sounds about right, I wasn’t raised up in any circumstance that merited...worth for me, beyond that. Just another pile of meat for the grinder. My father...was absent, my mother, not much better. It was left to me to raise myself, my younger brother. Were it not for a technical certification I'd scrounged to get ahold of at all the One Sith would've saw me better fit as a grunt, but I managed my way as an officer. It was all anti-insurgency, putting down rebels and the like, 'bandit fighting' as they called it...until Kintan. The rest..well-" Irveric remarks, he fights the urge to spark another cigar to life.

Kintan was where it all changed, putting him on the path he walked now.

"Now here we are..." No need to fill in the blanks in between, lest she prodded more into it which case he'd elaborate, otherwise...

"Luckily for me, being destined to lie left the expectations set out for me...low, can't imagine that was the case in your upbringing, Galidraani nobility? Surely- a different life was expected of you, to be married off and the rest of it? Something diverted you from that...something...personal, if I had to guess?" He inquired, arching a curious brow in her direction.

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

DE PURTEEN | ORD CANTRELL
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER SPACE

​

Tag: Irveric Tavlar

Natasi allowed Tavlar to take her arm and fell into step beside him on a walk. "You're quite right," said Natasi, her voice matter-of-fact. "The life of a Galidraani noblewoman is definitely one of privilege. Land and titles, tea and polo, kind hearts and coronets," she said casually. "But it's privilege without power, privilege without purpose. Perhaps I was born for a life like that, but I wasn't built for it. Oh, I enjoy the finer things in life, of course, but I have to have something significant to do, or what's the point?"

They continued along the walkway, Natasi gazing off into the middle distance, relying on Tavlar to keep her on the path. "I didn't realize there was anything else, at first. One is raised a certain way with the expectations laid out like a road, guardrails on all sides. My parents saw no harm in a university education, and after that it was just a short push to a stint in the Sith Empire, but the expectation was always that I would return home and marry and settle down and continue the line. And I thought it was a fair trade. A taste of adventure for a life of duty? After all generations of my ancestors had done the same."

"That all changed when my brother was killed," she said softly. "He had joined the Sith Army and saw action before he died in the fighting at Coruscant. It rather knocked the stuffing out of my father. And I felt that my brother's sacrifice didn't matter. A terrible feeling, knowing that someone you loved so much died for people who cared so little. After that, I couldn't content myself with a marriage, however advantageous, and motherhood, however fulfilling. I needed to do something to continue my family's name. But I also could not in good conscience continue to serve the One Sith or any Sith empire. I had seen how ambition and avarice of the Sith Lords, called to power by their abilities but without regard for the people under that power, had a limited capacity to create and an unlimited capacity to destroy. Their personal ambitions and hunger for power, their endless competition and capacity for betrayal is a blight upon the galaxy. I defected to the First Order because they seemed to be united in purpose for a singular goal, not self-interest. It was refreshing."

They continued their promenade, and Natasi fell into a pensive silence for a few moments before continuing: "You know, the duality of our circumstance is not lost on me. The appeal -- the draw -- of the imperial ideology is nigh universal. It appeals as equally to you, a man of action, a military hero who began life in -- I hope you'll forgive my saying -- limited circumstances, as it does to me, a useless, layabout, corset-bound blueblood." She flashed the Sovereign Imperator a self-deprecating smile. "It's a strength, to have such broad-based appeal. It's no wonder the galaxy fears it. What they see as repression -- or I should say, what they claim to see as repression -- is really just an ordered society, where everyone knows their efforts are valued and that they have a place. It's not messy and prone to corruption and pandering like democracy, but neither is it chaotic and destructive like Sith and Jedi theocracies."

She paused a moment and then looked sidelong at her host. "When you were young, raising yourself and your brother, did you have any idea you'd end up where you are now?"

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

SHINE ON...​

Irveric could only waywardly imagine the circumstances that came with her origins on Galidraan. No greater a contrast to the nigh poverty he was raised up around in Garang, on Dantooine. Yet all the same, here they were all but equivilents to one another.

Neither path was easy, Natasi perhaps had the respite in hers being...more concise to follow or at the very least, started a few paces ahead. Though that didn't undersell what it took to walk it.

"In that you're most certainly correct. Purpose...is everything, it's all anyone truly desires. Any and all material wealth can wither away at the soul...if there's no decisive aim, no greater ambition or reasoning to keep the cogs moving." Tavlar admits.

He seemingly had a destination in mind for their walk, a path to follow, but he didn't press on at any eager pace. He was content to enjoy the conversation rather than fixate on where they were going at all, at least for now.

That feeling she relayed about her brother...it felt all too lucid, relatable. Hit far too close to home. After all...how many men and women did he see grow up, live and die around him only to be buried in the ashes, monument in the cinder. Nothing.

"Doesn't sound all too different from me...except then, there was no place for me to run. Kintan...we were put to the slaughter by Jedi, told to fire on civilians all the while the Dark Lord, his Council battled elsewhere on the field...in the end, we left with no gained ground, defeated. Mandalore...good men and women dead. I put everything on the line to defend that world...whatever you think of them, they were Sith Imperial, my people. I had a duty, a contract to defend them. We did our duty...and the Sith turned it all to glass." Irveric says, finishing with tinge of bitterness in his voice.

"I kept my men, myself in that rat race...we would've been left to the ashes just like them, nothing to show for it but broken souls and shattered dreams. I had no where to run...so I carved a bloody path to salvation...to defiance. The Sith led them, my soldiers, to the slaugher, the Jedi would not bare the same patience as they would their counter part...their is no value in their redemption as there is in the Sith. I led them to purpose." He iterates. Or at the very least, he hoped to. He was not ignorant in the fact there would be those trapped within his Order all the same, only serving because of the stability it brought, rather than any ideological dream or ambition of the New Order. After all...he was once the same.

"But so it is- the duality. More similar than I ever cared to think upon first impressions. No offense in describing my upbringing for what it was. Dreadful, poverty, nothing of worth. All the same, I'd never under sell yourself as you are. Or perhaps- that's all part of the facade to conceal what you are from the rest. Regardless, you are clearly resolute, cunning...beautiful- if I may. You are what you chose to become, now what anyone would make of you." Irveric admits to her, offering a glance in her direction, his sole eye running over her before he peers forward once more.

"Empire is the fullest of harnessing the potential of the 'common man and woman', it is unifying to one great and decisive name. Order not from oppression but of respect to what they'd all come together to build." The Sovereign Imperator states, mirroring her sentiment.

"Of course not. My ambitions...in my upbringing, were never all too high. My first aim was to get a trade that put food on the table, I repaired and fortified hull plating of ships that passed through. Wasn't much but...in the end I parlayed it into entry of the Officer academy over basic training when the Sith came to recruit on my world. I didn't ever aspire for a seat at the table of the General's staff...I just wanted to do my job, get my men out alive. It's just...the farther I moved up the ladder, the higher the stakes." Tavlar elaborates.

"Now, everything is far clearer...just as I'm sure it must be for you. Of course, there will be those who scheme in the shadows but otherwise, my aim is decisive. Though I wonder- surely you will not enslave yourself to your station, what do you seek...for you?" He inquires.

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

DE PURTEEN | ORD CANTRELL
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER SPACE

​

Tag: Irveric Tavlar

The more Natasi listened, the more she began to feel that they were kindred spirits. Their upbringings, though wildly divergent from a class and comfort standpoint, were similar in that society had great expectations for neither one of them. He in poverty and she in privilege were meant to stay in their lane, fulfill the expectations of society, and do no more, no better. Both of them had detonated those expectations specatcularly, becoming leaders of galactic superpowers. Their methods, equally divergent: where Tavlar was a military man through-and-through, a commander with as much grit as determination, Natasi had pursued her goals by building consensus or persuasion, resorting to warfare only as a last resort.

What united them was a commitment to a certain ideal.

She smiled sidelong at him. "If they could see us now," she murmured, referring to all the people who had underestimated them throughout the years.

The conversation turned and Natasi found herself scrutinized about her own life and goals. "Oh..." She canted her head to one side, considering the question, digesting it. The truth was, she didn't know what she wanted for herself. She'd only been alive again for some few months. "I don't know. The things that were important to me I accomplished in my first life. I was married and I have a son and heir to take over as Earl of Herevan and Duke of Foxfield... if Galidraan continues to exist, I guess." She paused. "And Supreme Leader of the First Order, I hope."

Natasi continued along the promenade, turning her head to continue absorbing the views. "Other than creating a safe and secure place for the people of the First Order, I have no other ambitions as we speak today." She frowned thoughtfully. "And you? Should peace ever be an option for your people, what can you foresee for yourself? Somehow I don't see you as a gentleman farmer."

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

Different people with different means. Thought ultimately, the goal was the same. Empire, order, prosperity and all the accompanied that vision clad in grey and silver. Where she walked with measured grace, he led the jackboot stomp of steely authority. The people needed to love her and they needed to respect him. At least, that was how they seemed to differentiate in how they carried themselves. He doubted Natasi had such demand of herself.

“You did all you cared to your first go around...and come back for more to top it all." He remarks, their slow stroll finally willing them manor of Irveric's retreat within the Imperial compound. While it was one of his personal abodes, the security seemed light in contrast to his station as Imperator. Afterall, the pistol holstered at his hip might've indicated that he was in all truth, well and fully confident of protecting the both of them. But well within the secure compound, on a world considered one of the safest within the New Imperial outlands being tamed in the shadow of the Iron Sun.

"So you dedicate yourself to your state? And nothing more?" He inquired, arching a brow as they made way through the courtyard, an ornate fountain trickled calmly in the center, enveloped in New Imperial banners of black and white enveloping the area in yet another overt ode to the nation who was well in authority on this world.

"I wish I could claim I was holier than thou and posture myself as a man who'd done any different." Irveric says, moving to speak once more as a door hisses open to reveal the ornate interior of the structure. Servant staff made their rounds of cleaning and maintaining the manor accompanied by droids, all working about their business without any fanfare paid to the two Galactic leaders. He never came here to be bathed in revelry, he came here to decompress, escape.

In the wake of Dantooine, he needed it.

"But my life has been a battle pf existence, in some form or another for as long as I can remember. And that struggle leads me to...neglect what might otherwise leave me fulfilled at a personal level. Such is the nature of it, as crude as it might be." He admits, finally relinquishing her arm intertwined with his once they approach a lounge area at the upper level of the manor, an open view of the growing dusk on the water available as was a crackling hearth with sofas enveloping it to embrace the warmth it offered.

"I want peace...eventually, once those threatening my- or rather, our existence are gone, we will have it. I don't know when that will be...and I don't know if I will ever see it myself. 'Born to die' as I am." He admits, standing before the flames as he crosses his arms over his chest, a protocol droid entering to abide by the two.

"Sir, your grace. Surely I can be of service in acquiring beverages or any other else for either of you?" The droid inquired, Irveric offered the glance with an arched brow in its direction.

"Alderaanian Red. And whatever whatever Miss Fortan desires." Irveric replies before soon enough he fishes out another cigar, taking it between his crimson metallic fingers and sparking it alight before he takes in a draw of the sweetened herb.

Once the droid left for the moment, he spoke up again.

"I'd like to be there to see it, what I've spent all this time building...but I've forsaken the delusion that I won't fall short and leave others to carry it the rest of the way. In the meantime, these brief moments before I'm tossed from one pyre into the next, I can only stop and breathe in the air. Once more, I do appreciate you coming here. Truly." He admits. Another draw from his cigar before he glances away from her toward the flames once more.

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

DE PURTEEN | ORD CANTRELL
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER SPACE

​

Tag: Irveric Tavlar

An enigmatic smile crossed Natasi's dark features, her eyebrows raising imperceptibly at his question. "'Nothing more' is so inflexible a term, don't you think?" she asked. "The truth is I am struggling with myself over that very question. On paper I could, if I chose, administer the First Order myself with absolute authority. Sieger Ren could have chosen that, too, but he delegated the day-to-day administration to me as Grand Moff. I would find that kind of work very fulfilling, I think, but the people of the First Order have a view of me now..." She let her voice trail off, frowning thoughtfully. She hadn't yet put it into words to anyone but herself, and she thought it might make her sound rather conceited.

Still, she'd come this far. "I just think," she said after a moment's reflection, "that they don't view me as a bureaucrat anymore. Thanks to my cousin's rather heavy-handed propagandizing, they view me as some cross between deity and empress, with hands too fair to be sullied by anything so pedestrian as running the government." Natasi glanced at her host. He didn't seem like the kind of person to have concerns over image and protocol, nor over having to balance the needs of the nation against the petty concerns of individual personalities.

It must be liberating, she considered. But costly, too.

The droid came and took orders. Natasi gave her host a wry smile at the use of the title 'Miss'. The old Natasi might have rankled. The new Natasi indulged. "The same for Miss Fortan, please," she said. The droid toddled off to fulfill their drink order. Natasi once again fixed her attention and her dark gaze on Tavlar. "I suppose that's all a roundabout way of saying that I'm still figuring out what my nation needs from me, and what I need in order to be at my best for them. If that makes sense."

She again leaned over the railing, propping herself up on her elbows in a way that was relaxed but effortlessly dignified. "I appreciate being invited," Natasi responded truthfully. "A change of scenery is good for my soul. But I hope you won't think me vulgar in asking if there's a reason you did. Surely it wasn't to hear about my rather mundane upbringing." She flashed a smile before turning back out to drink in the view.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ORD CANTRELL

He continued in his idle drinking in of the flames. It was an eerie vision. It wrought the worst of the dormant subconscious to the forefront, the symphony of death played aloud in its crackling. He stared it down with that same coldness he willed to most anyone else. Maybe she'd carved a soft spot for herself in his consciousness, as he looked over back in her direction as she began to speak, offering a faint grin to her words, nodding once in understanding.

"A blessing and a curse, to be viewed the way they look at you. I am too overtly the mortal man to ever garner such illusions around me. Wouldn't have it any other way." He admitted truthfully.

When she asked why he truly invited her here he nodded once in understanding of the question. It was truly peculiar proposal to make, to her in particular. Taking his own drink in hand, he overtly turned in her direction.

"But its the upbringing that makes the person, is it not? Each and every subtle facet of personality, of how they come to approach the world all determined by uncontrollable variables within our early years. No such thing as any that are 'mundane'. Even as you lived among nobility and I squabbled to eat day by day...but the end result wasn't so different in its own right." Irveric remarks, setting the glass of Aldeeranian Red aside, taking a long draw from the cigar before he nods into his next thought.

"True reasoning? It isn't so often that the peasant gets the hand of the 'Queen' in dance, I had to find out what was behind that deific status that you've found yourself in. It suits you well. Politics aside, you can't fault me all too much for wishing to spend an evening with a beautiful woman as yourself." Tavlar offered with the arch of a brow, producing the metal case of his cigara once more, prying it open and offering it to Natasi.

"And after all, no dynamic between any two other individuals in this Galaxy might be more pertinent than ours, it'd be in our interest to maintain a familiarity, do you agree?" He inquired.

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

DE PURTEEN | ORD CANTRELL
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER SPACE

​

Tag: Irveric Tavlar

"Touché," Natasi said, lifting her head in the affirmative.

She considered that, by and large, they were in an exclusive club. Heads of State of galactic powers were few and far between, even in a galaxy as large as theirs. No one quite understood the pressures that came with the role. Yes, there was enormous privilege that came with it, but also isolation and loneliness. Courtiers and ministers and entourages and attendants would, at some point, go home and they -- the leaders -- would be left alone with the cares of the nation.

"Most people don't know this," said Natasi slowly, "but I became rather close with Jaius Sovv during the war. He had surrendered himself into First Order custody after the Kaeshana Accords to serve time for the Alliance's destruction of the Kuragin and he was, of course, too important to be kept in a prison's general population and although he had surrendered himself, there was always the danger that the Alliance would stage a breakout. So he was my guest for much of the second part of the war and we came to know each other reasonably well."

Natasi sighed wistfully. Another casualty; she had heard he died some years ago, after she did. He had been present when she learned about the death of her husband and she had, to her eternal embarrassment, very nearly seized the fireplace poker and bludgeoned him to death in a fit of grief and rage. The Supreme Leader realized she had stopped speaking, leaving a bare silence.

"The point is, I've had stranger bedfellows." Natasi paused and cleared her throat. "Not that President Sovv and I -- or -- you and I -- " Her voice broke off and she took a drink of the Alderaanian Red. She gratefully accepted a cigara from his offered case. "At any rate," she hastened to move away from her faux pas, "I'm sure the galaxy will be looking to see what we do, the First Imperials and the New Imperials." She placed the cigara between her lips and leaned forward for a light. When she had taking a drag and exhaled the smoke into the ether, her smile almost wan.

"And for that reason and others, yes, I agree. Perhaps we ought to do this more often." She took another drag. "Not to change the subject, but do you think we ought to do something to celebrate the opening of the hyperspace lane?" Natasi exhaled, creating an ephemeral silvery frame around her head that soon dissipated into the air.

 

[Irveric Tavlar]

I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ORD CANTRELL

He'd be a fool not to drink in every moment of this private rendezvous. Not that there wasn't anyone he was closer with, there were plenty. Those moments of isolation with his confidants were fleeting. Be it they were either lost to the struggles that enveloped them or he was enraptured in it all the same. Dantooine, that crushing defeat sent about bursting the bubble, these short reprieves were more essential than ever.

"Jaius Sovv. Certainly heard the name, knew he landed in First Order custody, didn't know you two were any close at all." Then she came to use the term bedfellows, no interest in its use relating to Sovv, far more in its use relating to him. He wasn't intent on letting that down, minor slip up as it may be. He offered a faint laugh and flowed into a grin before he eased toward her.

Irveric was a bit surprised with how easily she took the cigara between her lips. Whether to relieve stress or more deeply relax, he couldn't gauge.

"Peculiar lapse of the tongue...or lapse of the mind. It's said those slip ups are a glimpse into what one is really thinking...so I've heard." Irveric explains, taking another draw from his cigara. All the while, he drank her in with his gaze once more, a natural follow up to his comment before his piercing gaze shifted back to hers.

"Don't ever get the impression that I'm offended by that thought, in the slightest. At any rate...Empire has returned. Be it in the gentle touch of pride and banners from the First Order...or the iron grip of the New Imperial, order has returned...the Galaxy is better for it, that much is undeniable." He remarks, then came the comment of a possible celebration of this Imperial path.

"I've not ever been one for parties...but such is the nature when you have to continue to fight for existence at all. Though I know the First Order has a different taste, rightfully so. It has all the reason to be jovial." He admits, his cigara between his lips once more with a deep draw of the sweet herb.

"Lest a celebration of the nature of your coronation is not what you had in mind. Not that I'd refuse the opportunity at another dance or another drink. Regardless, I am quite open minded the approach of celebration in ode to our accomplishment." Irveric iterates, the cigara lingering between his fingers for a moment before he ashes it out in a nearby tray, his focus shifting back in her direction.

Natasi Fortan​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

DE PURTEEN | ORD CANTRELL
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER SPACE

​

Tag: Irveric Tavlar

Apart from a slight rosy tint to her cheeks, Natasi didn't seem to suffer any after-effects from her slip-up. Tavlar's response was respectably veiled, and she had to appreciate it. "I'll bear that in mind," she said with a self-deprecating chuckle, then took another drag from the cigarra and exhaled into the air between them. "I agree that a formal do like the coronation ball isn't quite the thing. Truth be told, it was a lie that the ball was in my honor. It was for Ariel. She had some..." her voice trailed off as she searched for an adjective that wasn't either 'harebrained' or 'half-baked.' Finding none, she smiled and went on: "...strategy at play surrounding the ball. I couldn't explain it if you held a gun to my head."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Regardless, the First Order is quite capable of a shindig -- I think the phrase is? Perhaps an environment more akin to an enlisted canteen would be preferable. No airs and graces, just good food and lots to drink -- my treat, I insist." She took another drag from the cigarette and let a spiral of silvery smoke escape her lips. "Maybe a band. I won't pretend that my tastes are any more in tune with yours than Ariel's would be," she said on a laugh, then took another sip of the wine. "But perhaps we can put our heads together and come up with something our people can enjoy."

Natasi frowned thoughtfully, looking into the middle distance as her cigarra smoked placidly from between her fingers. "I can't help but think that a celebration of some variety is warranted. Your people have been in a struggle for a long time. They deserve to blow off some steam." She worried for a moment that her words could come off as condescending, but pushed it aside. Natasi felt that she and Tavlar understood one another and that he would recognize her intent.

The Supreme Leader finished her cigarra and reached across to stub it out in the ashtray after Tavlar did. "Actually," she said, alighting upon an idea given their relatively close finishing of their cigarras. "What about a race? It'll be a new hyperlane, sketched out but not fully mapped, still plenty of danger. Plenty of opportunity for demonstrations of skill and daring. We could do teams, an award, some kind of riband, and naturally bragging rights." Natasi raised her eyebrows. "And then drinking. Thoughts?"