Sybarite [Open Club Thread]

[Joza Perl]

Joza kept Vaylin and Aria in the corner of her vision, a bit of a smirk still tinging her lips from the latter’s comment. A tragedy indeed, given that red hair was clearly superior to all the other hair colors. Moreover, she was relieved that he looked more like her and not his father.

Her attention tipped more towards @Prelait Mantis, studying the man for a brief moment. His posture, the eyes glossed over with inebriation, though he seemed to be holding his liquor just fine. He was well built, scarred and muscled. A merc? Perhaps. Something about him wasn’t exactly here, in the moment. Part of him was far away, perhaps never having left a certain situation.

The Zeltron wasn’t one for long drawn out staring, preferring to observe interactions rather than just…static imagery.

“Joza.” She offered her name before taking another sip of her martini. “You?” It was the normal flow of conversation.

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

He looked at the arm. Same as his leg. Not that she could see the beskar-plated cybernetic beneath the denim. He ran a hand through his hair before speaking again. His voice was smooth, gravelly from years of screaming and the stress of combat. And smoking didn't do him any favors either. He looked at the others before his eyes turned back to [member="Joza Perl"]. He spoke his name in a matter of fact manner. He was a matter of fact. She might've been hell on heels, but he was death on legs.

"Preliat. Preliat Mantis." His name carried weight, a reputation of violence and savagery.

Hopefully he hadn't beaten in or killed any of her Sith friends. If she was a Sith anyway. Sith didn't usually come out this way, much less spend time having fun instead of brooding and planning how to remove whatever incarnation of the republic was around nowadays. Then again, Preliat was a particularly broody person.

Maybe he had more in common with Sith than he thought. His eyes flickered back over to Joza. He sized her up. Partly carnal, partly predatory.

 

[Joza Perl]

She was used to being looked at as a prize to be won for the night, a conquest. He did not unnerve her.

Instead, she met his gaze with a passive yet unreadable expression. He’d given her his name, but no follow-up. Her inorganic arm raised, lithe pink synthflesh fingers running through red locks as she pushed them out of her face. They fell back again a few moments later and she made to move to brush them back again.

There was a stark difference, in her opinion, of being friends and being friendly. Her gaze tilted over to [member="Aria Vale"] and her Zabrak friend, knowing full well the decision the former had made to leave the sphere of Jedi. Not just leave, but turn against it. Become an aggressor, someone she may one day face with a saber in her hand. But for now there was no reason to start anything, not here. They both understood social graces well enough for that.

Her eyes shifted back over to [member="Preliat Mantis"] and she took a long sip from her glass before placing it back down on the counter.

“Anything else?”

 

[Vaylin]

A glare set in on Vaylin's features. It bared some of that animalistic spark her Master had seen on Dxun, but there was a lighthearted layer to it this time. Showing the Zabrak's competitive side, even though she was going in completely blind when it came to taking shots, or drinking alcohol in general.

"Little lady...I'll show you." She grumbled under her breath. Part of her wanted to be a smart-arse and point out that [member="Aria Vale"] was in fact shorter than her. But that idea got lost when the filled shot glasses were placed before them.

She watched as Aria took hers and immediately downed it, Vaylin noted how the woman tilted her head back when she did it. She followed suit and consumed the shot. The Zabrak's winced slightly as the harsh liquid went down, but she threw the glass down once it was empty.

"Hah, tha' was nothing." The shot glass hit the bar at an angle, refusing the shatter and spun slightly until it finally clattered to a stop.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she was hearing the conversation between [member="Joza Perl"] and [member="Preliat Mantis"], but was occupied with trying to beat her Master at drinking.

 

[NightSister]

Her grin turned predatory, eyes alight with mirth and competition. She was undeniably the sort that liked to win, and still more so against her apprentice (oh gods, it's her first time drinking, no way she beats me ) - and by the time the shot hit her system, qualms about how responsible the venture was were out the window.

“Yes- yes- well done!” she cheered on the Zabrak, waving a finger in gleeful emphasis as Vaylin set down the glass. “Oh, you're learning so fast, I'm so proud of you. Hit us again!”

The bartender seemed extremely satisfied with business. He filled the glasses right up in moments, and Aria thanked him with a smile as she lifted the glass in his direction, a mock toast.

“Okay, let's see how you do.” Aria ran a hand through her hair as if in preparation, then lifted her glass, clinking it against Vaylin’s once the Zabrak followed suit. “Go!” She laughed into the drink as she tipped it down her throat, extremely entertained by something apparently clear only to her.

Breaths came in short bursts between laughter. “This,” she concluded, “is great alcohol.”

-[member="Vaylin"] -

 

[Vaylin]

Vaylin bared her own challenging grin, this was the first time; as far as the Zabrak could remember anyway, where the two were competing against one another. Both women that took to a challenge like a fish to water.

This could mean only good things, probably.

The Zabrak beemed brightly at the cheering and praise she was getting from her master. Though that quickly snapped away when she remembered they were meant to be opponents tonight.

Two more shots were placed before them, Vaylin scooped her's up and clinked it against Aria's. The moment she said "Go", Vaylin downed the shot within the blink of an eye. She let out a gasp as she placed the glass down, eyes blinking slightly as she felt the alcohol hit her system. It was like it was stoking a fire, igniting the pleasant buzz that had settled since the first drink earlier.

"I will tik-" Vaylin paused slightly, stumbling over her words. "Take your word for that, it tastes awful."

It was certainly going to take a while for the Zabrak to acquire a taste for alcohol, but right now she was already too far in to not continue drinking. As such, she beckoned the bartender to make another.

[member="Aria Vale"]​

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Anything else, the two words ringing through his mind. His body language shifted, to being more relaxed, oddly enough. He appreciated, or at least respected, the sentiment that she offered. He thought his name would spark a question, or some follow up. He was wrong.

Joza- the name ran across his mind like a fleeting sound in the woods. Something about it, something mentioned by someone in a circle he was not part of but privy to. However, he knew that she was to a degree, a Jedi of some kind, a laser-sword wielding space wizard.

His voice shifted in tone again. The gravelly nature of it could be heard even over the music and noise of the club.

"You could start by telling me what a Jedi-" He paused, looking over at her female acquaintances becoming more attuned to the alcohol. He turned his gaze back at her. "Is doing in a nightclub supposedly owned by a Sith."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

A Jedi.

Sure, why not. It’s not like it meant much nowadays—no offense to the proud Jedi out there. If there was one thing that Joza believed in, it was that trained Force sensitives didn’t automatically fall into the category of Jedi or Sith. There were those who would disagree with her but the question of her place on the spectrum hardly came up, much less in a threatening way. She’d been noticing that more and more, the title of Jedi or Sith was being cast off in favor of a more neutral lifestyle. One where you wouldn’t be bothered with allegiance to the Light or Dark.

Or maybe that’s just who she kept as company these days.

“There were Sith in my own night club just a few weeks ago.” Likely as there were tonight, and would be for many nights after that. She didn’t mind so long as they spent credits and didn’t cause a ruckus. “I doubt the owner will mind much that I'm here.” Her gaze flickered over to [member="Preliat Mantis"] as she finished her drink and gestured for a refill. The Zeltron gave the bartender a brief smile as he passed her a new drink, taking a slow sip before sighing in satisfaction.

“After all, business is business.”

 

[Preliat Mantis]

He could recognize the body language as well as he could recognize the tell-tale signs of synthflesh on her arm. She hadn't taken offense to being called a Jedi, but she definitely wasn't one herself. Preliat ran a hand through his hair, thinking for a moment before speaking again.

"You make it sound like it doesn't bother you that they are- and the fact that you yourself own a nightclub makes me believe that you-" He waved the bartender over, speaking softly to order a drink. He received his simple cocktail, and took a drink after sliding a credit chit over to the bartender. He resumed his sentence after a brief pause, turning back to [member="Joza Perl"].

"May not exactly be the typical Jetii." Then again, he could not be considered the typical Mandalorian. If he even was a Mandalorian anymore. He used the word Jedi as most did in his people- force wielders were Jetii or Dar'jetii- very little in between for the Mando'ade. For Preliat however, it was habit.

 

[Joza Perl]

She leaned back in her chair, fingers idly spinning the stem of her glass as her eyes unfocused on the cup itself for a few moments.

“I’m a ‘Jetti’ now?” Interesting assumption considering the vibes she was picking up from him earlier but it wasn’t worth bringing up at the moment.

The glass found her lips and she tilted her head back slowly, taking her time before placing it back onto the bar with satisfied gasp. There were a few who referred to her as ‘Jetti’ and it typically was in a far more scornful way than endearing.

“Mando, huh?” She flicked her chin gently towards him. She was by no means fluent in Mando’a but knew a few words, perhaps enough to string together a broken sentence. Despite her father’s Mandalorian blood, Joza generally found herself at odds with the beskar clad men and women.

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

A chord of regret and pain crossed Preliat's mind. To a force wielding person, it was a significant dip into the abyss, a brief glimpse into the emotional state of Preliat Mantis. Due to his birth, his mind could not be breached- but he was unable to stop them from sending his emotions.

And he was nearly entirely built on hate and malice.

"If we are to be honest with each other, the Mandalorians and I have quite a few grievances that we have yet to address." Tended to happen when they betrayed you and killed your family for their petty beliefs of reinvigoration of the clans. "I suppose I'm Mandalorian enough."

He ran a hand through his hair, turning back to the woman. "Am I wrong that you are in fact some sort of the lightsaber wielding kind?" He asked, taking another sip from his cocktail. It tasted bitter.

"What about you? Do you find yourself on a spectrum, or are you above such things?" He paused, clarifying himself. "I've found most of those with the Force tend to...fall into somewhere on the spectrum, group or faction. But then again, most of them I've met have tried to kill me. Or have been Mandalorian themselves."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

The swell of emotion lead Joza to believe that she was not the only who harbored issues with the Mandalorians. Wasn’t that difficult to believe either given the way their society was structured. Not that it was a bad thing, but they as a people relied heavily on the concept of honor, family and glory through war.

“I’m not surprised.” She spoke with no ill tone. “There’s a lot of aggression going on there.”

A scarlet brow quirked at the mention of lightsaber wielding and she cast her eyes back down into her drink for a moment. “No, you are correct.” Her head lifted to meet him. “Jedi is a title that holds a lot of scorn these days, almost as much as Sith.” So far she’d drifted under the radar as another nameless Jedi who’d wormed her way into the business industry. Not much of a particular threat to anyone, or so she imagined.

“Kind of more in the middle, I guess? I wouldn’t say above it, no one is really above it. Just more…” She flicked her hand. “…off to the side, I guess.” So many elected to leave the various Jedi and Sith orders in favor of something less hardcore or following their own pursuits. “Why have they been trying to kill you?”

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Preliat suppressed a smirk at her response. He failed after a moment, when she asked why they wanted to kill him. It was an easy enough question, with a rather simple response.

"Because I've killed a lot of them, and they haven't been able to kill me yet."

He tapped his leg, the sound of hand meeting metal could be heard, just slightly above the noise. "Not for lack of attempts, however." He leaned back, shifting his weight in the seat.

"The Jedi and me don't particularly get along either. Probably something to do with thousands of my clones starting a coup or something." Preliat genuinely didn't care enough to look into it. "I suppose however, I'll make an exception for a particularly pretty Jedi."

He sipped his cocktail.

"Provided you don't try and kill me, however."

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Wasn’t particularly hard to earn the ire of the Jedi, or the Sith, or the Mandalaorians. Or anyone with an agenda. That type of structure didn’t take well to rogues or rebels who tried to interfere.

“Jedi killer, huh.” She continued to toy with the glass before taking what could only be categorized as an unladylike swig more suitable to a mug of ale than a cocktail.

“Not sure why you think I’d want to kill you. I don’t even know who you are.”

Whatever he did to earn so many death warrants in his time had escaped her notice.

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Preliat's eyes hummed over a bit of mischief and malice when she spoke of him as a Jedi killer. He raised a hand to correct her. "Despite my disagreements with the Republic and the groups that followed- I have never laid hands on a Jedi." He said, sounding almost disappointed.

He took another small sip of his cocktail. Despite his gruff nature, Preliat's vices were usually narcotic or hallucinogenic in nature. Alcohol, he was not particularly fond of. But tonight he wasn't drinking to forget, he was drinking to fuc-

He paused in his self loathing to assess the rest of what she said. His face grew somewhat solemn, admitting a dark truth that he didn't like to come to terms with often.

"It's alright. Habit of being on guard all the time." He leaned his elbow on the counter, running his fingers across his mouth, as if to assess the damage of his scars. His brown eyes turned back to face the Zeltron, but gone was the malice and mischief.

"So, if I may be as bold as to ask if there is a significant other in your life, miss." The same fear crossed Preliat's emotions, the fear of a reciprocated response.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

A red brow arched but her eyes did not narrow in suspicion—he wasn’t here for her skin, at least not in the macabre sense.

Unless he was into that sort of thing.

“Really,” She took note of the downward turn of his tone when he said he had never killed a Jedi, implying that he’d wanted to at one point. Some made a sport out of it for no other reason than to satisfy some baser urge rather than challenging their energy into something productive. “You made it sound like the Jedi were the ones after you.”

At the mention of a significant other, Joza took a thoughtful moment to formulate her response.

“I’m married.”

It was true in the truest sense—she and [member="Alkor Centaris"] were husband and wife under Mandalorian law despite having only met a handful of times and not honoring marriage vows. Joza tended to go her own way and seeing as how Alkor was not the father of her child she raised him how he saw fit. Not that she had anything against the man—they seemed to get along perfectly well but weren’t interested in anything beyond a platonic friendship at this point.

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

"I was too."

His response, especially the sincerity and the rapidness of it, surprised him. As did the length of time it took her to formulate her own response. He disregarded the point for the moment, and went back to reply to her previous statements.

"I've never truly disliked a Jedi- and I don't think I've met one besides in passing. I don't also, harbor a deep seated hatred for them." He ran a hand across his face, thinking.

He went back to the marriage point- especially considering he admitted he was at one point, married. Happy. With a full life. Everything going for him- until it came crashing down in a fiery heat of ash and betrayal. The burns he sustained were nothing compared to the trauma to his soul.

At least, what was left of it.

"You say that so...matter of factly." He cocked his head. "Not many people know my language and know how to inflect it as well as you did a moment ago-" He leaned forward on the bar, conceding his point. He was reaching too far. Jedi were intergalactic peacekeepers and his people were often the result of war.

He ran a scarred finger (he'd been playing with a knife as a child, but he told everyone it was from a fight) over the rim of his glass.

"How did you become a business owner?" His face looked interested, but his eyes betrayed him. As stoic as he was, any attuned person could see his weary soul in them.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

“I don’t know Mando’a.” Was he trying to flatter her in hopes of getting into her proverbial pants? Certainly she couldn’t claim fluency in the language, a few common phrases at most but nothing she could effectively communicate with. “I only know a handful of words.” Jetti was the first she had learned and it was not used in a positive light.

Now that she thought about it, her marriage ceremony was sort of funny to her—it consisted of a certain Ticon asking her and Alkor to repeat phrases in Mando’a. Neither of them understood the language and were effectively tricked into saying marriage vows at a party. Years ago, that was. Her father was a Mandalorian—said she had Mando blood in her, said it would call out to her one day.

Had she thought deeply about that, she’d be swallowing back bile.

His question was a bit of a different shift and it caused her to idly finger the stem of her glass while she stared into the space in front of her. “I’m a dancer by trade. Started up a studio a while back and it grew to branch into the entertainment, cosmetic and humanitarian trades.”

Her head tilted back towards him, curtain of crimson hair gently drifting an inch or so to rest neat her cheekbone. “How did you become a weary drifter looking for nookie?”

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

"Well-" He rapidly downed the rest of his demon drink. He was preparing to give her the whole thing, in one go.

"I guess it started a couple months ago when people I've trusted my whole life decided to murder millions of my people, my wife and my daughter. I guess it started when I became disillusioned with the Mando'ade, effectively almost exiling myself. I guess it started when I had millions of clones used in a political power grab unbeknownst to me." He ran a hand through his hair- a notable nervous and anxious habit.

"I haven't the slightest inclination towards business. I never took myself as a business man. My wealth was found in mercenary work, and whatever I still have left from my days as a goon."

His face crossed a familiar sting- he could've been a great Null-Hockey player, instead he became a weary war machine.

"And how does being a Jedi fit into that? Or does it all?"

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Maybe she should have expected the life story—albeit an abridged version—in a place like this. Drinks loosened lips, but all she could do was nod in distant sympathy.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry that happened to you and your family.”

She poked at some of the ice in her drink with the tiny stirrer that came with it, wondering if that weighed heavily on him enough to share that or if he was trying to appeal to her empathetic side.

“Being a Jedi has little to do with my work. It’s mostly borne out of my own interests.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t really say that I’m a Jedi, anyhow. I’m more of an in-betweener. Rogue, or something like that.” I didn’t matter much to her, but at the same time it did—because it mattered to people who would have her dead simply for her affiliation, or lack of.

Thankfully they didn’t seem interested in her.

[member="Preliat Mantis"]