The Ball of Bastion [Invite Only][Primeval & Guests]

[Yvette Dusong]

Lips curled upwards into a trembling smile as those quivering orbs gazed through the reinforced window of the shuttle, twitching blue eyes darting incessantly between one corner of the glass to the other as the young girl shifted herself across the leather seats lined along the spacious chamber, breathless at the majestic sights unfolding before her eyes. Blurred as her vision may have been, the imposing city surrounding her on all sides did not fail to spark the woman's curiosity and intrigue, the marvelous architecture basked in the dying light of the sun leaving her enthralled. Were she able to idly wander those crowded streets to her hearts content, to stare upon the horizon from atop its tallest spire, and to gawk at the landscape enveloping the lands as far as she could see for as long as needed to sate her desires, there would be little else she could ask of in her life. Yet reality was a cruel mistress, the curt and firm voice of the driver waking her from her reverie. Widened eyes stared bashfully at the man in front of her, his attention focused entirely on the road ahead as they neared the Palace, a surprised gasp slipping off the tip of the woman's tongue from the sudden reminder of why she was here.

Half-closed eyes lowered themselves towards her lap, her attention returned onto the piece of paper clutched firmly between her trembling fingers as she read through the contents one more time. Drinks, food, and celebrations awaited her at the Palace, an invitation towards one of the most prestigious events that could transpire in her lifetime, one that she would be hard pressed to explain how she entered its possession. Whether it be through blind luck or an unknown benefactor she couldn't tell, yet the why and the who slipped through her mind as a sense of dread pressed itself down onto her shoulders. Executions and slavery were on the list for tonight's events, chills trickling down her spine as she read over them again and again under her breath, doing her best to convince herself it was nothing but a witless joke that she was not a part of. Yet despite everything she couldn't help but steel herself for the worst, the sudden stop of the shuttle bringing her back to her senses as she found herself fidgeting upon the cushions. Few seconds passed before the door to her right had been opened, a brief expression of gratitude offered before she hurriedly stepped down onto the cold pavement below.

A white tunic adorned her upper body as it stretched itself down towards the floor as if it were a dress, its wide circular collar accentuating her shoulders and placing her neck on display alongside the golden trim of the cloth. Whatever skin was on display to the sleeveless garment was covered by a thin crimson cloth draped across and over her shoulders, supple arms partially covered by the fabric. No jewelry wrapped itself across her pale skin as far as anybody could see, the only signs of ornamental decorations etched into the cloth itself around the hem of the dress and the collar of the tunic, the thin garb on top lightly ornate around the rim. Clutching the invitation between her trembling fingers, the girl took a shallow breath and slowly walked towards the entrance of the palace, soft thuds ringing through her reddened ears as the heelless shoes strapped across her feet tapped against the concrete. Her attention was focused on the building above her as she idly made her way forward, lips slightly parted and curled into a smile as she felt her heart pound against her chest, the overbearing presence of the Palace and the buildings around all the more astonishing from up close. So much so was she lost in awe that she didn't even notice the redheaded woman in front of her, roughly bumping into her from behind as she stumbled backwards across her own feet. "Ah! I'm . . . My apologies!" She muttered rapidly in a meek tone of voice, bumbling across her own words for a few seconds as her cheeks gained a tint of red.

[member="Sena Lassiter"]

Spoiler

Get your visual aids here.

 

[Lassiter]

An acolyte at a ball, it didn’t have quite the same ring to it as Sena could have and would have thought it’d have but that didn’t keep her from being interested in going nonetheless. As long as she set her mind on the fact that all eyes would be on everyone else, and that the simple dress she wore did nothing to change that, she would be fine. Absolutely. Because nothing feeds on a vain acolyte than the envy of knowing she wasn’t on par with everyone else.

But she was getting ahead of herself. After all, this wasn’t public knowledge yet, at least not to her. The first step would be to get through the doors with grace and style. An idea, a dream, something that was squashed as soon as it appeared by a woman clumsy enough to stumble into Sena. Meek excuses, an amusing sight from a person attending a ball held by the Primeval of all major galactic players. It must have been another acolyte like Sena.

Then the redhead looked up. “You.” Sena hissed at the familiarity of [member="Yvette Dusong"]. “Are you blind or something?”

Judging by the fellow redhead’s apparel, very much so. A calculating look strayed up and down as Sena built herself an opinion based on prejudice against Yvette. Perhaps she was spawn of a vagrant, or maybe her parents didn’t teach her about style. If anything was for certain it was that Sena could suddenly find solace in that she wasn’t bound to be the most horrible-looking person at the ball anymore.

Then again, would she ever admit that to begin with? No, not really.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]

It hadn’t been any real reservation, what she had felt was the feelings of an old man who had been away for a very long time, only to return to a world changed in the most drastic and more subtle manners. Jared understood Matsu in ways that she probably did- no, that was an arrogant line of thought that didn’t hold ground.

Xiangu knew how well he knew her, and so she would know that Jared understood the way her life had walked. Hadn’t he been young himself once? Hadn’t he fought for the Fringe in his young years, when blood flowed freely, when the beasts of the Unknown Regions had dared to enter their domain?
Those had been the good old days, but few if any things are meant to last forever and the Lord of the Fringe had returned to find his once proud nation… less than how it had been in his memories.

And then you have the Sith, a nation much alike to the Fringe in its early years, fighting an eternal war against the Republic. It presented her with opportunities that the Fringe didn’t have to offer right now.

For now.

Ovmar snorted and softly patted her on the arm.

‘Whatever ya say, lassie.’ the same easy grin flashed. ‘Pretty sure I can still drink ya under the table.’

A wink.

‘Wanna bet?’

 

[Jacen Cavill]

[member="Sitara Qin"] [member="Marek Starchaser"]

"What will you be drinking tonight, sir?" A high pitched voice, spoken from its diminutive owner cit through the cacophony of sound that as filling the room. More and more guests filled the room. Fine wood creaked under the weight of his elbow as he leaned forward, never making eye contact. "I'll take a fine, aged bourbon please." Without a word his order was attended to, a tumbler was brought forth and Cavill had a choice of the finest fermented liquids in the galaxy. Lazily making his choice, he peered over at a man he recognized. "I'll also ask that you get that man and the lady he's conversing with the same."

Cavill took a quick swig, allowing the warm viscous fluid to run and burn down his throat."In fact I'll cover their drinks tonight." His credit card was offered to the bartender started a tab for him. "Lose that card and I'll have your head." A soft chuckle broke the tension and the bartender laughed before attending other patrons.

He wasn't joking though.

Leaving the bar, Cavill effortlessly mingled. People were drawn to him, some he knew, most he didn't. Their empty conversations and well wishes continued for a while, most centering on his return and the spectacle they were here for. Piercing azure eyes searched the room, he saw [member="Jared Ovmar"], though age had ravaged him. What in the feth happened to hi-, that thought stopped as he eyed the striking woman draped on his arm. Now who is that? Cavill didn't believe in love or distractions, and he held fast to the truth that love and attraction were weaknesses.

But feth, she was striking. [member="Matsu Xiangu"]

Senses extends outward as he excused himself, and the stimulus around was amazing. Guests were dressed to the nines, but nude attendants littered the area. Dancers committed certain acts with each other that drew a crowd, but the Sith Lord resisted. Instead be made his way to [member="Gerion Ardik"] and [member="Lorelei Darke"].

"Can't believe you're out for pleasure instead of business, Ardik." Turning attention to the woman with the Umbaran, he extended a hand and gave a bright smile. "Pleasure to meet you ma'am. My name is Jacen Cavill, heir to the Cavill house on Serenno."

 

[Quietus]

"Unpleasant isn't quite the word I would use..."

The pair finally reached the entrance hall, striding past attendees in waiting with their trays full of the evenings samples. Dancers here and there and... my, my, walking nudes. Hello scandal. This called for a drink - she chose a red wine, dry with smooth undertones as the Waiter described, and wafted the glass under her nose.

"They were perfectly pleasant. Painfully unsystematic comes to mind, however. A bit like herding cats. I can only assume their fight against the Empire has done them a world of favor with the new Executive installation."

Lorelei wasn't a fan of cats in any form, but prejudice was bad for PR, so her personal command ship boasted an affluent felacat Captain, Miet'ra Eske. Testy little thing, but sharp and witty. Kept Leonardi on her toes, which was more than worth the trouble where the D.O. was concerned.

"You've been with the One Sith for some time haven't you, Gerion? What do you know of this Primeval lot and thei-"

"Can't believe you're out for pleasure instead of business, Ardik. Pleasure to meet you ma'am. My name is Jacen Cavill, heir to the Cavill house on Serenno."

How lovely, another Count of Serenno. The last one she'd heard of had introduced himself with a plead for a fortune. Lorelei gave a faint smile, acidic green gaze taking in the strapping man before her and falling to his proffered hand.

"Lorelei Darke," she answered, keeping her left hand snuggly looped at Gerion's elbow and her right hand pointedly busy with holding her wine glass, "Sovereign of the Kuat System and CEO of the Kuat Drive Yards. Forgive me, but Kuati beaurocracy demands you sign half a dozen papers for authorization to shake my hand." Her tone was half teasing as she gave a coy glance to her date, "I won't even get into what the good Viceroy went through for the evening..."

[member="Jacen Cavill"]

 

[Disciple]

"Games, Sovereign. Games." Came a tired, decrepit voice over the faint patter-clack of a cane striking the floor. The figure who came up alongside was dressed to the nines if he'd been attending an Imperial Ball circa 417 ABY. His rank epaulettes denoted someone of high station, but that was likely just him poking fun at the whole idea of a military uniform providing prestige.

After all, no True Sith - red skin and all - would deign to be anything less than he actually was. A Sith. No, no officers uniform for the sake of prestige here. Wetting dry lips with an even drier tongue, his attention settled on [member="Jacen Cavill"]. "He's a mean one, Ms. Grinch." He says flatly. "He truly is a heel. About as cuddly as a cactus and charming as an eel." There was a pause as he raised his arm and coughed violently into the crook of his elbow.

Disciple and Jacen had met once, very briefly. At least he remembered meeting him. Might be wrong. Might not.

But these all seemed more his speed in regards to the festivities and conversation as opposed to the other usual suspects.

"As for you, boy." Disciple says with a crack of his cane against the back of Jacen's calf. "Stop trying to impress people. It's unbecoming." Despite his apparent youth, the Sith behaved and move like a surly old man.

The faint hint of a cackle hidden in every word, however, implied otherwise.

[member="Lorelei Darke"] [member="Gerion Ardik"]

 

[Laguz Vald]

Most of the invitees were spoiled for choice because they were filthy rich, blood money spilling out of their pockets every time they turned around to greet some other acquaintance or rival. They could afford things most of the Galaxy could only dream of, and it still wouldn't make a dent in their fortunes. From a certain viewpoint, it annoyed Laguz, but the shifter had gotten over credit envy a long time ago. After all, xe too was spoiled for choice in so many more, unique ways.

Unlike the killers flitting about, men and women who murdered planets by day and wore expensive designer gowns by night, Laguz hadn't paid a single credit chit for the dress she was wearing tonight. The shifter had gone with something rather unassuming, just fancy enough to fit in, but nothing so over the top that she would attract one too many a gaze. There was a time for discretion, and there was a time for blatant flaunting, and the huntress knew the difference well.

No, today she would mingle and listen and learn, as Laguz always did, absorbing information exchanged by some of the most wanted in the Galaxy. The very air was heavy with death, a pungent yet familiar aroma that most — if not all — guests would know by heart, having dealt so much of it unto the people. Truly, if one were to drop a nuclear bomb on the palace of Bastion that night, they could tip the scales of the Force in one fell swoop.

Too bad nobody outside those invited knew about it.

Laguz smiled, her red lips pulling into a wry smirk as she deftly avoided another group of slightly inebriated revelers. The drinking had already started, and she wasn't the least bit surprised, really. No, what the shifter was interested in that night was the people themselves, not their actions. Drunk or not, a face was a face, and she was practically giddy at the prospect of wearing a Sith Lord.

 

[Sitara Qin]

"There's too much galaxy to explore to just settle in one place." Sitara nodded. [member="Marek Starchaser"] had probably seen more than she had. There were a lot of secrets in this galaxy; in fact, this entire ballroom—with it's guests on the darker end of the spectrum—probably had secrets people would kill to learn. Sitara was young and still naive. Another drink had arrived on the table ands he realized that it had come from another stranger on the bar. She signalled her thanks towards the mysterious [member="Jacen Cavill"].

She smirked at that 'cute' comment. It wasn't something she didn't know, and she wasn't conceited about it. Despite breaking a few noses in the academy, she still liked taking care of her appearance. "Oh I agree." She nodded, leaning in as though she was going to tell him a secret. "They draw you in—" She licked her lips. "—Just to spit you out. Breaks my heart really."

"But I also hear handsome strangers were just as dangerous." She finished up her drink then signalled for another one. "Might be all charming on the outside but you never know just what they're capable of." She had a sweet yet mischievous look in her eyes. When was safe ever fun? Those that loved the thrill knew that dangerous people made interesting associates.

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Tmoxin lead Captain Vaiden through a dark, torch-lit corridor which opened out into what appeared to be Pellaeon Gardens by the lush greenery ahead. The Gardens themselves were immense and it would probably take too long to see it all, Commander Temi thought. But the moon was full and the air on Bastion was quite temperate. No doubt the crew of botanists and landscapers who tended to the garden were experts but the pleasant weather would make their job much easier.

The Hapan officer steered Hans over to a fountain ringed with stone. A light waterfall trickled from the font in the middle, and the water rippled softly around lily pads and flowers which had fallen from a lone cherry tree near the pond. She sat down and moved over so the Captain could sit next to her.

“So Pellaeon was your hero. I wonder what he would have thought of the Primeval and their occupation of his cherished headquarters?” She spoke softly and trailed her fingertips into the water as she did so. As she listened for Vaiden’s answer, Tmoxin was acutely aware of her surroundings. Most Hapans had poor night vision but Commander Temi’s was corrected with surgery when she was younger. If someone was out here eavesdropping she would know and be able to give Hans Vaiden a sign that it was unsafe to continue their conversation.

[member="Hans Vaiden"]

 

[Corey's OOC]

See? Marek could keep eye contact. As for the galaxy, it wasn’t so much that he chased secrets, but when he got his start in the then-Confederacy and Templar ranks, before y’know, evolving like the faction did and joining the Techno Union, he was part of the Seekers, a group that went hunting secrets. He wasn’t necessarily good at find them, but ending traps in a cave? He could do that fairly well. Apparently a skill his uncle had. But it didn’t matter. Marek knew that he could get secrets through gifts and credits. “So many people are content to sit around. Feels like a caged life to me. I’ll opt out of that.” He nodded his agreement with her.

Marek felt that the more vain a person was, the more they knew themselves. Or something along that line. He knew where his skills were, and well, it wasn’t the Force. And depending which part of the galaxy it was, it could always be his looks. And this one, for sure knew what she was dealing with. The Corellian, or Brokellian as it was now, grinned and nodded. “See? And that’s why they’re so damned terrifying.” But then again, anyone tiny was terrifying, like that girl who came out of holoscreens in that one movie about watching a recording. He knew there was a water well in it.

Finally acknowledging the drink, he nodded to a semi-familiar face. One of his own type of people. What was [member="Jacen Cavill"] after right now? Or just Tion Ways and Tion Laws? That was always a good gesture. He made to finish his drink enough to pour the last bit into the fresh drink. Was always a smart approach, keeping a drink in your hand. But if Cavill was here, it meant others were. And he might need to make the rounds, if only to say his hi-how-are-yous at the likes of [member="Jared Ovmar"] and [member="Gerion Ardik"]. Who… were probably making business deals and not being all that social.

Which reminded him. Abrion business with the Primeval… He’d find the person in charge after.

“It’s a skill we’ve mastered. Disarming and then we strike. Makes it a bit easier, and we don’t have to worry about getting our faces all marked up.” He shot her a smile and laughed. “That’s the thing about people like that, though, they know how to use all their specific skills.” This [member="Sitara Qin"] was going to be dangerous.

 

[Inger Strömfire]

Letting herself flow into the ball room. It after all not her own fault for being late. After all this wasn't the dress she had chosen to pick out. After the zipper had slit from her black dress. When she had to get another one for this grand ball. Now as she let herself slid into the party, not knowing if she would know anyone. That her fellow Fringe was already in the room. First thing was first was to pick up one of the fine glasses. Even those this wasn't her kind of alcoholic but it would do for now.

Wondering around she would be her game for the time with her slender figure but also well tone being that she was a space viking.

 

[Reverance]

The concealment of his power, that emptiness that revealed nothing about his presence, heralded his meek interest as he declined the attention that some would adorn and desire. Drawn blade across flesh, he had departed from the lingering facial hair that hinted at the age of salt and pepper. His suit was a simple one, free of any tie, going for a more sincere approach that resembled more closely his philosophy in life. As little effort as possible, for the task at hand, he smiled as he looked upon the world around him and the non-vong equivalent of escalation. Approaching the bar, he leaned against the polished and curved enamel and smiled, the lights catching the flicker of his scarred visage. "Menkeroo whiskey."

She replied back, offering for a version clean or a version on the rocks. He chuckled, failing to break eye contact, wondering if the question was something presented in sincerity or merely one of habit. Surely he didn't seem the type that cared about that difference, so long as the rocks were rocks and not ice. Drumming his fingers across the raised edge, he tilted his head with a perch of his lips. "Surprise me."

What was it that he recalled of this place? He couldn't seem to trace a memory, something stricken for lack of purpose, yielded at the cross for pain and whatever remnants resembled it. Perhaps that it was prismatic, lighting from the moon shimmering down upon the world to refract and reveal people of all sorts. Diamonds, rubies, sapphires, jade, pyrite, opals, and pearls - his memory began to draw clues from the world around him. And here he stood, charred wood splinters in a bucket of gems. As he pressed his back against the bar, he would feel the nudge of the barkeep and the glass of red fluid, coaster of flimsy paper beneath it. He plucked the red stir straw from the chasm and inspected it with a squint of his eye before placing it methodically on the paper and lifting the tumbler in hand. "Thank you..."

He wasn't here to mingle - merely one to watch. As he had always done for such sorted affairs. A nameless scarred man who on clear night, gave pause to take in the view of vivid constellations and interwoven stars. Smiling with his sort of quiet nonchalance, he lifted the tumbler to his mouth and sipped of the amber fire. A good age, not nearly as old as him, but well enough off for the desired result. In his view, he would catch light of her, the brightest of stars, and the smile would turn into a smirk, as it always would. Not meant for anything but genuine admiration for something burning hotter than anything else. In fact, it looked as though [member="Matsu Xiangu"] had turned [member="Jared Ovmar"] into a cinder, specks of ember and ash floating about him as age drifted on by.

And if [member="Vrag"] thought she was fooling anyone, she had another thing coming. He had seen enough of her to know those blue eyes, no matter the clothing that garbed the body holstering them. Though he didn't recognized the man on her arm, he assumed it was but another play thing. Shaking his head, he took another sip of his drink and pressed on with one of his more favored hobbies: People watching.

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Hal Terrano"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Jared Ovmar"]

 

[Caulder Dune]

[member="Lorelei Darke"] | [member="Jacen Cavill"] | [member="Disciple"]

Why were the servers naked? Did the Primeval waste too much money organizing the slave auction to be able to afford to dress the attendants? Gerion was already on the fence about enjoying his time here, but if this got any more tribal someone was going to get a letter of complaint. It was no longer beyond the realm of imagination that the night would conclude with ceremonial dancing around a fire pit filled with Bastionian literature. Speaking of barbarianism, Gerion suddenly detected Cavill's foul stench wafting through the air. Moments later, the man appeared both before both the Queen and her date. Cavill tactlessly offered his hand to the woman, apparently oblivious to the fact they were both full.

Regardless of that, the Umbaran stiffened noticeably and utterly missed the coy glance Lorelei threw him. Cavill was not among his favorite people, nor was Gerion convinced the man was safe to be around.

"Oh. Cavill." He greeted, flatly, perhaps still sore from Jacen's most recent extortion. Or still his attempted assault on his father.

Gerion would have spoken further had not a particularly crotchety young man in an anachronistic military uniform showed up. His focus seemed to be on Jacen, who received a harsh thwack from the gentleman's cane. This was yet another in a long string of events that indicated Gerion could never leave his home or his office without something stupid happening to or around him. But at least the Queen was here with him, on his arm no less, and Cavill was being bludgeoned by a time-traveling warlord.

All things considered, it could have been worse. It would probably get worse. Gerion decided he should just embrace it, because there was no force in the galaxy capable of stopping stupid.

"I see your capacity to make friends hasn't diminished."

 

[Hans Vaiden]

The garden was something of his wildest dreams. Exotic aromas, hues, and textures of every kind of plant species in the known galaxy. Pinks, floral greens, purples, and even the dark, dreamy reds of thorny vines and their tantalizing blossoms. Hans didn't possess an eye for art or gardening, usually straying to the typical Imperial norm of slate grey and black, but he knew when to appreciate things such as this. Inhaling deeply, his entire form settled into motion as he trailed after his date.

"Pellaeon was... a good man." Hans sighed as he came to rest beside his lady. "He always knew what to do, when to do it, how. He encompassed all the things I aspire to be." He took a moment to roll Tmoxin's question around in his mind, grimacing at the distant skyscrapers of the fortress world. "I don't think he'd exactly enjoy the idea of hosting an entire family of mindless savages and their inbred minions - especially not with such pretty ladies around."

The Captain flashed Tmoxin a wink, lips faintly drifting into a smile.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Kiber Dorn]

Of course, Kiber Dorn was decidedly not watching carefully. His eyes were front and centre but his vision was blurred, not, this time by the affliction of spice but rather his standard arrogant apathy. That wasn't to say that Kiber wasn't currently riding his kite, the man-boy bled narcotics but it was a little less obvious than the debilitating effects of the drongo.

The word responsibility roused him from his lack of focus, gaze suddenly sharpening and finding itself firmly lodged upon [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]'s ceremonial armour, those pupils almost double in size.

You want me to dress you?

Before he could verball respond an old knackered codger wobbled in on sleepless legs. Of course every lackey, stooge and servant underneath the whip of this woman were on point for such an occasion. They were complete muppets, but faithful muppets nonetheless. If only the junkies and burn-outs that Kiber had rolled with were so loyal. Could have been the God of Spice.

What a thought.

“Only one I'm 'fraid,” the man conceded, the Chiss being the only name on the list that he recognised. Hey come on now, the galaxy was trillions strong, it was a miracle that he even caught a single scooby. “[member="Cyrax Bane"], sold him...uh...painkillers. I was diggin' the cut of his jib.”

What is a jib anyway? Can you cut it?

From on top of a dresser the man picked up a creased brown waistcoat and began to lace his wiry arms through the sleeve-holes and began the arduous process of buttoning. Not easy with a case of the jitter-fingers.

“So...uh...where's the ball gown, chica?”

 

[Jacen Cavill]

Cavill brought his hand down, and instead smiled. Her decision not take his hand was out of respect to [member="Gerion Ardik"], and he wasn't offended a bit. Their body language hinted that they were close, and she was much more comfortable in their current environment. The umbaran was clearly out of his element, it was like watching a wookie on a desert world. Fake it they could, but he was clearly out of his element. [member="Lorelei Darke"] was doing just fine, and to those in attendance Cavill appeared the same.

He and the Umbaran weren't so different though. The excess was appealing to his senses, but it was all a distraction. Distractions clouded one's senses and didn't allow them to focus. In the field of battle of business, a lack of focus meant certain defeat.

This wasn't an arena though, so he played his part and kept up appearances.

"I can only imagine mylady," a knowing grin crossed his face. False emanated from him. " There is a reason I never took my birthright and instead decided to go into business with the man you have on your arm." Despite having his senses muted to where he appeared to be as a void, he still could feel certain things. A cane flying at his head was little cause for concern, and the loud thwack that followed did nothing to the man. Adjusting his perfect hair, he looked at the man, if you could call it that. Anarchist clothing and a youthful appearance allowed it to blend in. In the force it was something different, something ancient.

Cavill had found another monster masquerading like a civil creature, his words to the assembled group a harsh truth. "You're right, I am far from innocent." Gesturing at the assembled masses behind him. " I doubt you could call anyone here a good person. This is a mixer for Sith and other assorted evil with orgies and executions as entertainment. If I had to make a bet, I'd have to say the sweetest person here is the Umbaran. In all my time he's been as kind as a puppy, with little stomach for violence." Laughter made his cheeks rise, and he took [member="Disciple"] by the shoulder and guided him away and towards others.

"Let's not interrupt their evening shall we?"

 

[Catalys Maijora]

As far as Anja's servants went, Catalys was the least impressed by all these lavish ceremonies. Guests entered in droves and the Sith Lords stood out. Even if they weren't dressed in any exotic fashion, there was always a posture taken by someone who had obtained power. Whether it be through hard work or inheritance. The agent's job tonight was a simple one; keep the peace.

Approaching the Umbaran's side was one of the lower-ranking members of his team; another watchful eye. "What's the whole point of all this? Why would the Sith even come to such an event?" He remarked.

Truthfully, Catalys wanted to ask the same. He had his theories for sure but it sometimes did raise questions as to why someone so far above him would do what they did. Then again they were above him, so why question it? It wasn't really all too important in consideration. "Haven't you heard? There's one thing better than having an ally... Having someone owe you a favour." He patted him on the back before leaning over the railing. From the agent's vantage point he had a clear sight of all that went on in the main hall. Even a clever thief would have a hard time getting away with a crime. Not that there would be any thieves.

Catalys took a deep breath, "It's all just a game of pazaak. Waiting to play your card, weighing the risks involved." His eyes fixated on one who stood out in particular. [member="Bestala Vizsla"]

"I don't know many pazaak players who don't cheat." The fellow agent shook his head and continued his patrol.

Mumbling under his breath, "They're Sith, kid. Sith always cheat." As far as cheating went, it really didn't matter if everyone was doing it. That's how the game escalated and he'd like to think that's how they became Sith in the first place. It's never really enough for them... Once you climb the high peak you can finally see the one that's taller. You desire it, squander your past accomplishments for what you don't have.

Clearing his head, he began to walk along the balcony -- his eyes continued to glance at the armoured woman.

 

[Boethiah]

Cryax Bane.

"That Blue Raven?" The two were once not on very good terms. One might even say that The Primeval and Red Ravens were in a state of war... Although the peace brokered on Dantooine was short-lived, the true peace between Cryax and Anja was solidified when he captured that traitorous Zeltron girl.

It seems despite their less-than-pleasant introduction, [member="Kiber Dorn"] was still able to have a sense of humour.

Anja scoffed at the notion, "This is what I'm wearing. I don't get the galactic obsession with skintight dresses and flaunting fleshy meat at each other." She opposed the concept all together. What she was wearing had its elegance for sure but it was meant to represent humility, strength, and above all -- her dedication. Perhaps few would understand that but she wasn't dressing for anyone; that didn't even cross her mind. The very idea of making a first impression could very well be said to go beyond the woman's understanding.

A lock of her hair found its way down in front of her left eye, a clean hand went up to push it back behind her ear.

"You're ready?"

 

[Micah tol Powl]

At the artificial woman's request, the boy politely dropped his eyes as he gave a short bow. It would be difficult to discern that the youth was from the ghettos of Coruscant's lower levels, as he offered the droid his arm in a gentlemanly fashion, to take if she so elected, as he prepared to escort her toward the gardens. "My lady," the azure monk offered in the same warm tone.

Being a gentleman was expected of a Sith apprentice. As his master instructed him, Be courteous to everyone, friendly to no one. Be polite, be professional, and have a plan to kill everyone you meet.

Leading the taller woman through the grand halls of the Imperial Palace, as they walked the boy commented, "Many find the gardens to be touched by the light of Nogras." Glancing up at the simulacrum's hazel eyes for just a moment, the youth explained, "In our religion, she is the Starmaker. The first light, from which all other lights are but a pale reflection."

Perhaps some would chastise his effort at discussing religion with a droid as folly, but did not the droid brain contain logic circuits? Did droids not speak? If so, then droids were capable of speaking truth.

And truth was its own reward.

---

[member="Destiny"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Perla entered the Imperial Palace through the servant's quarters and wound her way up to the Throne Room where she would first head to the bar to drink whatever was being served. It didn't matter what kind of alcohol it was - after the pain of her wounded hand, her sunburn from hours on the open plains of Dathomir and one gigantic headache from a fall in the cargo hold of a ship, she was ready to annihiliate her discomfort in any way shape or form. And she knew the Host Lord had rules against spice. Or it may have been that those who flouted the rules kept themselves well hidden from plain sight.

But at the last minute she asked for a warm glass of Yeade and luckily the bartender knew how to make that Dathomir witch specialty. Perla noticed two men who were making their way from a couple of more flamboyantly dressed guests. She approached them and with as much courtesey as she could manage said:

"Good evening, Gentlemen. I'm an emissary of The Bleeding Suns and the Host Lord has charged me tonight with giving tours of the Imperial Dungeons. Would either or both of you care for a tour?"

[member="Jacen Cavill"] [member="Disciple"]