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

[Kiber Dorn]

“The very same,” he replied, fingers still fussing over the fine, thick buttons upon the waistcoat, his eyebrows fidgeting every time the plastic refused to cooperate with his trembling digits. “Caw caw.”

As she snubbed the notion of wearing a dress, it only solidified his game plan of getting the woman to loosen up. Sure, she had broken his nose, hung him from the ceiling in chains, hit him so hard in the gut that he lost his lack of lunch...wait, I've gotten lost in the list...what were we talking about?

Oh, right. Unwinding old uptight Aj'Rou. Kiber held no hard feelings for his mistreatment, to say that he had grown accustomed to such was a massive understatement. His nose had seen more fists than his knob had seen…

….ah, parental guidance.

“Hey hey, you gotta flaunt it,” Kiber began to say, shimmying his bony behind as he finally vanquished the final button, leaving him looking like a steampunk wet dream,“if you've got it.”

His tone implied that she very much had it, even if the Anja was so determined to hide it all underneath armour. “Good to go, m'lady,” he confirmed with a wink and with zero regards towards the safety of his own nose.

---

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Aster Jen'allé]

[member="Boo Chiyo"]

*Destiny took his arm and followed. She found his conversation inviting, as he did not speak as if she was "just a machine."

Destiny: "I have an introductory knowledge of your religion. I find it fascinating. What if, somewhere out there, a God is waiting, just for droids? A great maker that gave the organics the knowledge to build droids. Maybe even... machines... like us have arms open and waiting when we are eventually decommissioned..."

*The last word trailed off as she stared off in the distance, a look of desire glinting behind perfectly simulated eyes.*

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She’d spoken with [member="Jared Ovmar"] a few times since he’d returned from his voyages out there in the ether. Naturally she was interested in what he’d seen and learned but what she found curious were the random bits and pieces he’d picked up – she couldn’t recall a time in the past in which he’d called her lassie. She liked it. “You know what? I don’t even doubt it so I’ll have to pass lest this party turn in to the kind of bloodbath they didn’t plan for.”

She had been trying to decide whether or not to go and see [member="Vrag"] and perhaps be introduced to the man she brought with her – that was, if he was important – when she felt a quiet registering of a presence she hadn’t picked up on yet. It was low, hidden, imperceptible…but not to her. (Two vast, imposing entities spinning in silence above those yet to ascend, pulled together by the force of their gravity, making insignificant anything that crossed their horizon. She liked the hum of him, the well of his pull.) Turning her head to the bar, sight confirmed it wasn’t just wishful thinking. She returned the smile-turned-smirk, admiring the figure he cut though for now she left him to his own devices. She intended to mingle, something she knew wasn’t his preference at such functions.

The business world had never concerned her much, dry compared to her endless thirst for knowledge. But she liked meeting people. Ovmar however, had at one point had a hand in just about everything, or so it would seem. “Why don’t you introduce me to some of your old friends?” she asked, tilting her head at him in curiosity. She’d already spotted [member="Gerion Ardik"] looking his particular brand of disgruntled – whether it was the naked dancers or the still-nameless man who’d been talking to him she couldn’t be sure, but her interest was still piqued in the tall, dark stranger moving away from the Viceroy and his regal companion. “And who is that?” she asked Ovmar, watching as the Cryptkeeper moved off to speak with the stranger somewhere on their own.

[member="Reverance"] | [member="Jacen Cavill"]​

 

[Delyna Karthoys Haymire]

It had not been more than a few days since Delyna had walked down a nameless street in the capital city of the primeval-claimed planet. Ravelin itself was a quite interesting city, but she was not here to look at the sights. Clothing stores were plenty but most of them had already been pillaged by others, after all the grand ball was approaching. She had originally planned to attend in her normal attire, but soon realised it was common to have one made for the event. Or something along those lines, anyways. When she first entered the shop the first thing she noticed was price tags. Oh right... Without any credits to her name she simply walked up to the shopkeeper, who for some reason seemed afraid of her. There was only one dress in the shop that was both appropriate and could be modelled to her within time. The look on the shop keepers face when the oracle had offered a small force crystal in exchange for a 500 credits dress was that of confusion. In either case, she returned to the palace only to learn that most of her fellow primevals simply took whatever they needed from the people of Bastion. If only she knew earlier. Oh well.

When the first guests arrived she was already seated in the grand hall, somewhere near the bar. Replacing her flowing blue and white robes was a formal and modest black dress. It featured a rich dark-blue flower pattern which seemlessly and elegantly alligned with the black fabric of the dress. The shopkeeper had also given her a piece of neck decoration, which honestly was quite uncomfortable. Delyna herself sat alone on a table, letting her shining blue eyes scout the room and wander from guest to guest, oblivious to any discomfort she might cause. The event was not exactly packed with action but the attendants were all beings worthy of notice. Sith lords, crime lords, dangerous individuals all around. People who probably did not find much joy in the concept of a force neutral, young hapan woman prying into their surface thoughts.

Up until this point, though, nobody had directly opposed her or told her off. So for now Delyna Karthoys Haymire simply sat calmly by herself, with a gleeful smile on her lips - not-so-subtly observing the others present while scrying just a little bit into their minds.

 

[Vrag]

There were many things that Vrag enjoyed in life, and she did her best to do so too, but it was rapidly becoming apparent that her she still hated parties as much as ever.

Ugh.

What the hell was it that people found so amusing about these things? What made it worth attending? Even though this ball was a far cry from your usual soiree where socialite would gather, the woman still found it to be little more than a drag. There were countless Lord and Ladies milling about, posing and smiling in their staggeringly expensive clothes as they talked about which planet they will dominate next. Well, at least the discussion was something closer to Vrag's heart — or the hole in her chest where one should be, at least — but it was hardly enough to make the experience as a whole worth it.

The one redeeming quality of the ball, even if it was a double-edged sword, were those same expensive dresses. Boring as the whole event was, the Sith couldn't help but let her eyes wonder over the crowd. For all their wretchedness, one thing could be said about those commonly labeled as 'Darksiders'; they were quite handsome. As someone who could appreciate beauty across all genders, Vrag found herself appraising the myriad of faces with her keen blue eyes. There was a number of them that she remembered at least vaguely, but there were quite a few she knew well. One figure in particular caught her gaze, clad in a long black gown that looked like it had cost a small village on the outskirts of some agro planet. Ah, [member="Matsu Xiangu"], always feeding off of the suffering of others. It wasn't hard to imagine how many heads she'd turned that evening, especially since Vrag was among them. Oh, well, she could live with that fact quite easily.

With a smile she raked her eyes once more across the svelte body so attractively emphasized by that dress before turning her gaze to [member="Reverance"] at the bar with a coy smirk. With the amount of time they had spent together the firrerreo would know that subtle ripple in the Force even in a chamber filled with thousands of screaming, overt signatures that cried for attention. In a way, it made the man even more remarkable, almost humble in his power — though she knew he was anything but. She might just join the Wrath at the counter with a glass of whiskey of her own, but that would have to wait until later.

No, in that moment, Vrag had something else in mind.

"Hal," she spoke just loud enough to be heard over the din of socializing monsters. "Stop frowning and get that stick out of your ass. There's enough alcohol to get me drunk, so you should be more than covered," she gestured towards the bar and the copious amounts of drinks being offered around by the catering droids and scantily dressed waiters and waitresses.

"Don't worry, nobody here bites," she added as an afterthought, and though it probably wasn't true at all, [member="Hal Terrano"] looked like he needed something of a consolation.

"Just have fun for once, for feth's sake, or I swear I'll make you."

 

[Laguz Vald]

People watching could only be entertaining for so long before one gleaned everything one could from merely analyzing superficial interactions among people who were arguably among the most skilled of liars in the Galaxy. There was absolutely no reason to believe that anything said at this ball was truth, that any smile given was little more than a façade put on to fulfill some imagined social obligation. And while deeds and body language are much more forthcoming than the lies so often spun by deft tongues, Laguz realized that the people in the ballroom were probably as far from sincere as one could virtually get.

It was annoying, on a certain level, but most of merely amused the shifter; for one so skilled in reading bodies and faces, such a challenge was a welcome change of pace. Instead of recognizing a myriad of emotions with a cursory glance, the woman had to put some effort into it, and that alone made her evening that much more interesting.

Challenge or not, Laguz could only focus on random Sith Lord and Ladies for so long. It seemed most of them only had eyes for galactic domination, sex and inebriation. Typical. The huntress rolled her eyes as she glanced about, her keen gaze drifting over the hundreds of unique and yet similar expressions. Who should I wear today?

And then she remembered the guest list she'd glimpsed during one of her many forbidden forays into the higher echelons of the Primeval's hierarchy — that was just the way she worked — and the names contained therein. Her thoughts quickly evolved from there on, associations and neurons firing to bring forth a particular image from the shifter's extraordinary visual memory. Oh, yes. That would do, that would do nicely.

She disappeared off to a sparsely populated side corridor and then to a room that was devoid of inhabitants, seeking out the nearest reflective surface. She could do without most of the time, but the face she would put on this time wasn't one she knew very well. Centuries of experience had taught the shifter to remember facial features extremely well, however, and with a few final tweaks in front of the mirror, the transition was complete.

Hello, world, the huntress smiled coquettishly at the reflection staring back at her, wild red hair spilling across her bared shoulders. The dress adorning her body had to be changed, of course, for her newfound cleavage would have surely found the former one quite… confining. She parted from the mirror with a suggestive wink and reentered the full-swung party with a peculiar sway to her stride. Oh, such fun would be had.

Meet [member="Danger Arceneau"].

[member="Alric Kuhn"] | [member="Silara Kuhn"]​

 

[Yvette Dusong]

Faint gasps slipped through the auburn-haired woman's lips as she continued to mutter incoherently under her breath, her upper body leaning forward in a slight bow-like motion again and again as that dreadful feeling of hers placed itself ever more firmly on top of her shoulders. Yet once she locked eyes with those emerald orbs of the much taller woman, whatever unease or foreboding plagued her washed itself away only to be replaced by a mixture of disgust and annoyance at the woman in front of her. "You." She replied with a click of her tongue, shudders trickling down her spine only to send soft trembles rolling through her body. Hastily bringing a hand over her quivering lips, the girl closed her eyes shut and tilted her head to the side, theatrically coughing into her curled fist for a few bare moments as she collected her thoughts. Blue eyes lazily trailed themselves over the Acolyte's body as she straightened her posture once more, muffled hums and coos rolling through her throat as she silently examined her colleague from head to toe.

"I'm sorry Sena." She replied in a curt tone of voice, venom engraved onto every word she spoke as her lips curled upwards into a delighted smirk. Taking one calm step after another to the side, the young girl slowly began circling around the much taller woman in order to get past her, those supple arms and legs never leaving her field of vision as she talked. "I didn't notice you amongst all the rubble littering the pavement. Reminiscing about your old life?" She continued after a small pause, a sense of glee and satisfaction settling itself upon her from the admittedly low jab, whatever meekness and politeness she might have harbored to simply save her skin from the ire of the Sith melting itself in front of the woman's eyes. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought there was a strict dress code that didn't involve someones tattered curtains."

[member="Sena Lassiter"]

 

[Lassiter]

No sooner than the content smile had spread across her lips was it gone. [member="Yvette Dusong"]. They had met on Korriban ages ago and ever since then had the occasional ‘moment’ between one another. In truth there was an underlying appreciation for the way they both could be total wenches when it came down to it. A sport, really, but in the heat of the moment it was easy forget.

This was such an occasion.

Sena’s hands curled up into fists. Her teeth gritted as she held back the urge to smack Yvette across the face. That was the purpose of these duels after all. She would have to settle for a stare that could set fire to her opponent. Sena let the burn follow Yvette’s silhouette as it escaped her line of sight. A deep breath parted Sena’s lips as she let go of the tension building up inside of her and in a shrug-like movement she let her arms slump to her side before stepping up behind her frenemy.

In a weird sense this was fun. Fun but incredibly frustrating, just the way it was supposed to be.

“That’s cute, Yvette,” Sena responded with as much grace an angered woman could muster. “It’s almost as if you wanted me to care about what you just said.” She ‘faked’ a tiny little frown. For all intents and purposes the other acolyte had delivered a precision blow right below the belt. A most well done performance. “I mean, me walking around in curtains? Have you seen your own dress?” Here it came, the first retaliation. “If I had known you were into vintage I’d help you look on Korriban, sweetie.”

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Reverance"] | [member="Gerion Ardik"] | [member="Jacen Cavill"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"]​

At one point he had a hand in just about everything.

But things changed and most of it flowed out a single choice, to step back and let the newer generation take over- or so to speak. That was the problem with most people of power, they simply didn’t know when to call it quits, they kept on trudging around sticking their figural phallus in everything without regard for anything. Jared had decided to pick a different path, take a break so to speak.

Hadn’t thought the Fringe would turn out so bad though, which was really one of the few reasons he decided to step back into the game. Anyway, the point the writer was trying to make was that it would be a while before Ovmar was anywhere near as omnipresent as he had been before.

Probably.

‘Who? Cavill?’ the Sith Lord remarked, after spotting the man walking away with the vintage rebel. Oh, he remembered Cavill alright. Jared and him had done a little business back in the day, nothing too close of course.

Ovmar had been very careful with whom he kept close ties. Ardik, Merrill, Valik, Dissero- men and women who had the basic idea on subtlety and being careful. It had been a neat balance with his own brashness back in the day.

No, he had respected Cavill, but had never tightened those connections. Besides returning him his sword, of course. That was courtesy, honor amongst thieves.

‘I have told you about him, remember?’

He thought back to the thumb-accident.

‘Ardik’s father?’

He was going to say more, but then he was surprised by the visage of Danger fecking Arceneau, of all people. The pleasure of seeing her washed every other thought out of his slightly tipsy mind (having had a few drinks before this and during this tale already).

Still as beautiful as he remembered her, huh. The years looked good on her, better than on him at least.

The Sith Lord patted Matsu’s arm. ‘Now this is a woman you will have to meet.’ and that’s when he put his own glass on the table, took another one and guided both of them to greet his favorite redhead of the Galaxy.

[member="Laguz Vald"]​

 

[Inger Strömfire]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] / Reverance | Jacen Cavill​

​

After her own watchful dark eyes came flooding around the room. Only to have them rest upon someone she had work with a long ago. They had gone to gather a crystal for her next project that was to build a lightsaber. Getting more then she bargain for there he was among some of those she knew only by reputations from the Fringe. Or had they been a whisper to her in one of her visions she got. Either way it would be her that would come up to great these fellow darken brothers and sisters.

Walking with some grace now, not the warrior she had been know for among her race of people, but still her eyes told a story of the space viking roots she comes from. "Well, Mr. Reverance is it didn't know I would be counted among seeing you here tonight.", she had to thank her Master for teaching her the finer things like that of how to chose her words, even then once in a while she would slip up but not as much as when they had first met.

Giving a very nod to @Matsu Xiangu, now all it would have to do is to have her Master @Lucien Cordel show up and the night would shape up to be something.

 

[Laguz Vald]

Ever since meeting the woman whose face she was presently wearing, Laguz had been wondering just what sort of pull the queen of trade had. Research had been made — not extensively, of course, ain't nobody got time for that — but the shifter did know a bit more than she used to. Enough, perhaps, to pass as the real thing under superficial scrutiny, but if anybody who actually knew the businesswoman started interacting with her, things might get… interesting. Somebody other than Laguz would have used a different word, but the huntress liked to have fun however she saw fit, and if that meant that a few real people were going to get upset on the way, so be it.

It wasn't like she would be affected. When you can steal a new person suit at a whim, it's rather hard to track you down, and that was mostly why the shifter could afford to prance around wearing Danger Arceneau like it was nothing. Well, nothing to her, anyway. Many, many others in the room didn't seem to share her opinion; like, say the ruggedly handsome older man whose eye she'd apparently caught. He was approaching her with a devilish glint in his eye and two tall glasses of something bubbly and alcoholic.

"Well now," she cooed as she accepted the beverage, moistening her lips with the fizzy liquid in one smooth gesture. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

When in doubt, keep the flattery high and the vagueness higher.

[member="Jared Ovmar"]​

 

[Boethiah]

When the words were said Anja couldn't help but feel the muscles in her hand grow tense. She was a woman of few words and not necessarily one of action either but when she did act there was no telling how harsh she could be.

"You will shut your mouth." It was true that Anja could break his nose again, or hang him from the ceiling with jagged metal chains. But right now she didn't have time for such trivial matters. The threat of what could happen was probably enough to keep the brat in check.

Without further hesitation she walked towards the doorway before turning back, "I could have you killed in front of all of them. Don't disappoint me." Her voice dropped with hostility, different from her usually distant nature. If [member="Kiber Dorn"] were to have a lie detector he could easily tell that there was no deception in her words. She absolutely would kill him if he gave her a reason. And the drug-addict had many reasons to give.

In her company there were those who questioned his presence to begin with. He had no manners, no merit, and above all was more of a leech than a predator; but he had potential. And if he could be molded then she could turn him into a weapon. Potential to be great even in its most disgusting form was still a very valuable thing.

Her eyes continued to condemn him before she finally turned back and marched out of the chamber. Their destination of course was the throne room where the guests were waiting. Granted their time to mingle and carouse, surely they were ready for the next act.

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Captain Vaiden’s charming foray into flattery signaled to Tmoxin that he didn’t want to discuss politics. She supposed it was poor etiquette to constantly discuss military business on what amounted to a date. There was a time in her youth where she would have fluttered her eyelashes, her cheeks flushing with anticipation at this type of attention. Or else she would have been circulating the room, flirting furiously with anything handsome that breathed in an attempt to bring jealous rivals to fisticuffs. Was she becoming too cold and calculating as the years went on? Or worse boring and stale?

It certainly didn’t feel like it with Hans Vaiden’s admiring gaze upon her. But one could never be too careful with coupling rituals, she supposed, reasoning that it was better to be a little choreographed with her seduction versus letting the alluring Captain think she wasn't interested. She smirked and said, “Oh yes, there are lots of pretty ladies here.” She had noticed before the pair completely slipped away that two beautifully striking Sith Lords she had spent time on the battlefield with - [member="Vrag"] and [member="Matsu Xiangu"] - had entered the Throne Room. Commander Temi had also heard that the Sovereign of Kuat, [member="Lorelei Darke"] was also in the Imperial Palace now. Her exquisiteness and grace was rumored to be legendary.

“I suppose I will need to keep you more entertained lest your interest wanders.” She moved closer to the Captain, leaning in with her body and began to encircle her arms around his waist, her hands lightly gripping the fabric of his suit jacket.

[member="Hans Vaiden"]

 

[Sitara Qin]

For a moment, Sitata's eyes strayed towards the bodies of the naked dancers; their graceful, perfectly fit bodies dancing in the background. Their fluid movements took her breath away. Sitara wasn't good at ballroom dancing. She was an alright dancer, but could never be as graceful and delicate as those who danced like swans on a stage. Her dancing style could better be described as something you'd see in a bar on a dark planet than a ballet in a throne room. Perhaps the purpose of their lack of clothing was more of an artistic decision. However, judging by the theme and the guests of this party, it was rather unlikely. There was something about the sith and their passion that leaned towards a path more filled with fire. They tended to land decisions that burst erratically, its flames often engulfing everything in its path.

After a second, Tara's eyes shifted to the cool blue ones of her handsome companion, [member="Marek Starchaser"]. Although there were plenty of voices buzzing in the background, his was the voice that she focused on. "Indeed." She nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. People were indeed terrifying. They had unlimited potential after all. The thought that people could do whatever they want with the power they were given almost scared her. She wondered what a world full of control would do.

She saw him acknowledge the fine gentleman who had paid for their drinks earlier. Perhaps they knew each other? It wouldn't surprise her if they did. There were plenty of people inside this room who were of high importance and obviously socialites loved to interact with each other. She needed to pave her way into upper society like this. She couldn't keep being naive simply because she was younger than most people around her. She took a sip from the drink she was just given.

"Yes. Skills were learned and mastered for a reason. It would be of no use to not utilize something that could very much give you the upper hand in a game you're trying to win after all." She smiled coyly. "Especially if that game is survival." She tilted her head to the side. She didn't want to seem too minacious, this was a party after all and Sitara "But I'm pretty sure their are a lot of cards you've been dealt with that you can use to gain the upper hand of any game." She said sweetly, lightly touching the area below his shoulder. "I mean you're handsome, seemingly intelligent, and you seem to have plenty of tricks up your sleeve." She teased.

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Ah – now it was all coming back to her. A story that included fingers thrown in people’s laps, something of that nature. It sounded like an unorthodox tactic to be sure but she would assume it’d at least galvanized a conversation. Matsu wouldn’t have been particularly off-put – it was nearly impossible to disturb her. The exception was if you were one of those people that didn’t wash their hands after using the bathroom, or if you picked your nose in front of her, something along those lines. She could be knee-deep in guts, have her hands up to the wrist in gore as she plucked brain from skull, but Force forbid you burp loudly around her. As this Cavill didn’t appear to be that type (though, you never know really, despite the impeccably fitted tux and coiffed hair) Matsu kept it in her plan for the night to get near him.

However it seemed first she was to meet a rather gorgeous redhead. Of course Matsu would have to have been living under a rock not to assume who this was just based off a physical description and her presence at this soiree, though she wouldn’t automatically assume. If something was wrong here she wouldn’t notice however – she’d never met this woman and would have no way to spot something funny. So instead she just offered a delicate, metal arm to shake the stranger’s hand. Despite not having been introduced, Matsu excelled socially - she would loathe making a faux pas. “I asked to meet his friends, and he led me over here. Though, he didn’t provide a name Miss…?” She paused, letting the woman provide. “I’m Matsu Xiangu.” Her accent had faded slightly over the years but she still sounded distinctly Atrisian, bowed vowels and some tonal inflections particular to their planet.

[member="Jared Ovmar"] | [member="Jacen Cavill"] | [member="Laguz Vald"]​

 

[Cryax Bane]

After two trips to the men’s room to ingest enough spice to kill a baby wampa and enough drinks to earn most sapients a trip to the med bay, Cryax Bane still couldn't help feeling an acute ennui at the ball. Sure there was excellent company. The room was a veritable who’s who of Coruscant luminaries such as high-ranking Sith Masters, like [member="Reverance"] with whom he had become quite friendly as of late, and stormtrooper commanders. He even spied [member="Gerion Ardik"] of the Tion Hegemony, a man who was rumored to have the same fanatical obsession with inorganic beings as the Chiss himself. In other words, he liked him some droids. If the Chiss weren’t feeling so anti-social, he might approach the attractive man, at the very least to get a closer look at his long, silvery hair. Hair that was begging to be grabbed by the fistful in more than a few fleeting thoughts he might have about the man later on that evening.

Perhaps it was his recent time spent in the Coruscant Undercity. Its olfactory sensations of sex and decomposing vermin. Its trashy cantinas where one could easily contract all kinds of STDs just by sitting on upholstery. The squelching sound as slithery dianogas rose up out of the sewers below the streets, searching with their eyestalks for something vaguely resembling food. It was a garbage dump, but it was his garbage dump, damnit and he found himself almost missing the kinetically unforgiving streets below Galactic City's dazzling skyline.

At least he had the executions to look forward to. Especially the killing of that Zeltron queen, the one he had caught rifling through his Holofiles at the Coruscant Tourist’s and Visitor’s center. A few interrogation droids later, she revealed her plans to sell the information to the Red Ravens. Whatever [member="Anja Aj'Rou"] and the Primeval had done to her to reprogram her into obedience, apparently had an expiration date. With a smirk, he finished off another drink, patiently waiting for the ceremony to begin. The heady mixture of alcohol and spice, began to give him double-vision. With his luck, he would see the red-skinned infochant die twice tonight.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Vrag"] [member="Hal Terrano"] [member="Tmoxin Temi"] [member="Kiber Dorn"]

 

[Micah tol Powl]

There was something oddly comfortable about being in the company of a droid. This close to an organic sapient, the Force sensitive youth would have difficulty in shielding himself from the intangible baggage which people invariably carried with them. Waves of strong emotion, or even just mere presence in some cases, required a modicum of effort to shield the mind from distraction. Yet, as the woman rested her arm in his, the boy found the simulacrum a refreshing void in the Force. It allowed him a moment in which to relax his guard, without fear of some emotional response resonating from her.

It helped that the conversation was interesting. Enlightening even, for the fact that she asked a very human question. "What if, somewhere out there, a God is waiting, just for droids?"

What if, somewhere out there, a God is waiting, just for me. It was the quintessential statement of faith from Endor to Hoth, Bespin to Coruscant. A thousand languages, a million worlds, and yet the hope behind them was the universal constant of the galaxy. The belief in something greater.

Pausing, just outside of reach to the gateway which would lead to the gardens, the azure monk turned to look up at the woman as he offered sincerely, "I believe this God is real."

I believe in Sargon, the Tongueless Speaker. That which created light from darkness...​

The articles of faith echoed in the boy's mind, a silent offertory to the Three who descended from the One, as he prayed that he be a voice of truth. "The Primeval believe that nothing exists of which Halrormalenth has not spoken," the young Pantoran added, explaining why he believed in the God of which the woman had spoken.

I believe in Nogras, first of Sargon, the Starmaker. The light from which all other light was made...​

Recalling one of his favorite Primeval evangelists, the boy quoted, "For we are but the echo of voices of a distant star. The voice of a Broken Creation who has spoken since the dawn of time."

I believe in Balagoth, second of Sargon, the Dead One. In his shadow, that which is corruptible shall be reclaimed...​

Falling silent with those words, the boy dropped his eyes a moment as he offered a second, silent prayer in thanks for the opportunity to have expressed the faith which was Primeval. Raising his eyes a moment later, the boy smiled as he offered warmly, "At least, that's what we believe."

I believe in Halrormalenth, third of Sargon, the Broken Creator. His voice is the evidence of things seen and unseen...​

She could believe it as well, if she chose to accept the Truth of Sargon. And if she did, he would be happy to pray with her. Droid or organic, any who would speak Truth were Primeval. And Primeval was the end and the beginning, all and nothing.

The young Sith's mental reflexes reconstituted its defenses as a formidable presence seemed to wash over the room. Craning his head up, the boy spotted what appeared to be the entrance of the Prophet herself. "It appears as though the evening is about to begin," the youth commented, directing the droid's attention toward where [member="Anja Aj'Rou"] approached.

A distraction, should the droid desire some escape for where the conversation had turned.

If she wished to speak of it more, he would always be willing to listen. And to pray.

---

[member="Destiny"]

 

[Jacen Cavill]

[member="Perla Pirjo"] [member="Disciple"]

Assembled masses moved like waves, a true ocean of flesh. Raw emotion overflowed his senses, his sharp focus his only defense from being overwhelmed. Lavish decorations and formal wear barely disguised the true intentions of the evening. Blood as the only way to truly bind those who lived in the shadows. A lifetime of living amongst the rich and depraved had long ago educated the Sith Lord on how those events would work. Formality would carry the evening so long, the exposed flesh all around could only satisfy the masses for so long.

Blood would be event, the real reason for this.

Lust filled his eyes, he could never say no to darker pleasures. A few surrounding women almost took the look on his eyes as a clamoring flesh. Subtle pushes of dark side power kept them at bay as they felt the embers coming from the furnace that powered his rage. Fear met that aura of rage, and they turned their attention away from him. Searching the crowd again, his eyes fell on the woman with [member="Jared Ovmar"].

Who are you?

That thought was left hanging as another woman, striking as well, came before him.

"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?"

Cavill flashed his charismatic smile at the well dressed emissary. His arm fell from Disciple's shoulder as he used his large farm to almost block him from view. Jacen's arm extended, an offering. "Why yes mylady, lead the way." Taking her arm, he allowed conversation to flow easily. "So what's your name emissary, and what did I do to earn such a privilege?"

 

[Corey's OOC]

Naked dancers were just that, naked dancers. And for Marek, they didn’t hold much importance. He did own an entertainment company after all. That meant he was around it all the time. There were people paid, men and women both, of a variety of species that were paid to do exactly one thing. Look attractive. Didn’t matter if they were smart, or nice, they were there for scenery, and unlike some of his contemporaries, like [member="Gerion Ardik"], who was grabbing his date tighter, or something. Marek could just feel that happening… yeah, right… Whatever, dancing, though? Marek… well, it wasn’t the most proper sort of dance, but he was one of those people who was known to pray to the music selector sometime and go home with tinnitus (who was a cruel mistress). That form of dancing wasn’t proper for this sort of gala.

He had a few steps for other dance moves, y’know, being a representative of Abrion…

Sometimes, he wondered if the Force helped him to captivate others, like some sort of Bard from another time and realm. He wasn’t so sure, but he was enjoying the company of [member="Sitara Qin"] whichever way it was happening. From his corner of the galaxy, they believed in the potential of everyone, and that meant anyone could rise up and break their class, so long as they worked for it. And for those that could think about how to improve themselves, the Techno Union was there to assist.

Marek grinned when she started speaking. She was clearly knowing what she was talking about, the plight of the gorgeous people… or something. Skills and abilities to ensnare others in their web. But she was going for some heady party-conversation. “Its all how we survive. And sometimes it’s not what you know…” He drained his drink and nodded to the bartender for another. “But who you know.” No one fethed with the cliques that Marek rode in, even if they were all over there, and he was here. “But having an ace in the hole is smart.”

Giving her the once over again. "Interested in mingling?"

 

[Hans Vaiden]

Discussing politics on a date was gross. Captain Vaiden wasn't into delving into the minds and histories of Thrawn or Pellaeon, but rather enticed the ideas of delving into something more... unconventional. Things that involved himself and his woman, and the proposal to spend the night here. And something about pigtails, motorcycles, and an electric razor taped to a broomstick. Hans shook away the dark kinks of his mind. He had time to get creative later.

"Lots of pretty ladies?" Hans scoffed, casting a wary glance towards Tmoxin. "I don't suppose you mean [member="Gerion Ardik"] or [member="Jared Ovmar"], do you?" The Captain couldn't bring himself to mention anymore other names for fear of being reputed to enjoy men more than women, especially since he thought such things were abominations. "I'd rather not become the plaything of some warmongering Sith wench. They like things that are worse than what I like." Hans arched his back in mock, acting as if a shiver ran up his spine. "Handcuffs and lightsabers - all sprinkled with a little bit of domestic abuse."

He sighed with a dreamy grin, no doubt pleased with himself and his half-humorous rant about the female aspect of the One Sith. Of course those fine Imperial women were to die for. Uniforms and everything.

With Tmoxin's arms around his waist with her head resting upon his shoulder, he sank into her form as well. An arm wrapped around her as well, holding her slender frame close as he sucked in another whiff of the flowery, aromatic air. "Show's probably gonna start soon, should we head back?"

"Or," he chewed the inside of his lip, "We could enjoy ourselves for a moment longer." He liked the feel of her, the smell of her. The taste? He assumed it would be likewise.

[member="Matsu Xiangu"], [member="Vrag"], [member="Tmoxin Temi"]