The Black Party - FO & TSE

[Darth Empyrean]

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Music played upbeat and hefty as the vast amounts of people began to land and find their places. A weekend excursion into the unknown folds of The Slave and his enigmatic parties; something few but the elite got to enjoy, and almost nobody left sober. Ships from all over the galaxy came in waves, each offering their network access codes to Cybele, saving them from the wrath that surrounded the ship in the darkness of space.

The result was something spectacular. With a hanger fully dedicated to holding the civilian and military vessels of both factions, the space was nearly endless for the various groups to find comfort in the ship. As each would land, a robot would come to them and explain the situation, a waif like voice meeting each with a jubilant tone and illustrious joy.

Only then would they be guided to their designated rooms. Whether they chose to stay in them or not, each was spectacular and well adjusted, in each a small ‘theme’ dedicated to their specific group. In the First Order’s rooms, various symbols giving credence to their faction and authoritarian nature, and in The Sith Empire’s, the same. However, the true joy of the situation was not found in the rooms, at least not at first, but in the massive nightclub each room surrounded. From top to bottom it stood nearly 100 stories with a zero gravity dance floor filling the void; while rooms and balconies surrounded even this.

Music would blare, but the rooms were silent, and as each of the various members of the factions filled in there would be a slow churning hedonism that grew in the bellys of everyone present. Although no dancers were present in the majority of the vessel, the ever present joy from the Beta Wave Generators and the latent pheromones kept everyone spry and happy; not to mention the endless streams of alcohol offered to everyone.

All in all, the night would be one to remember for everyone involved; excluding those who black out.

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The Slave sat in his usual spot, a small dark place just above the bar. His golden eyes watched behind tinted sunglasses as he watched the various diplomats, officers, and sith all appear in their own way. It was interesting to watch, how each carried themselves higher than those around them, yet only a few truly were.

A grin crept on his face as the lawnchair he used to sit creaked; giving sign to his comfort. He couldn’t help but be excited, being such a party between his new associates that could bring him to the forefront of focus for the many on both sides. If not respect, he’d at least be known, and what more joy could one have than being on everyone's mind?

An mysterious and decadent party host who all the ladies would swoon over, bringing them anything he wa-

“Are you done daydreaming? Everyone’s almost here.”, Cybele interrupted.

The Slave sighed and took a silent sip of his drink, choosing to ignore her in favor of his rudely interjected reality.

“I can see you. You can’t ignore me.”

“Fine, yes, I understand!”, he snapped back, mildly annoyed his cybernetic fan couldn’t leave him be to enjoy himself.

A faint excitement came on her voice as she responded;

“Good. Glad to see you’re excited.”, she responded before going silent.

Now it was only a matter of time before someone walked in through that archway that truly took his attention by force. Someone who deserved his attention, rather; someone he could lose himself in for the night. Another sip of his drink, and he went back to his imagination.

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[Mishel Kryze]

Mishel Zanteres handed over her invitation and received a stamp on her left wrist. She smiled and headed in, and at first glance, she wasn't sure what to expect. She wore a little Venetian mask that complimented her black dress. She would be escorted to her room but honestly, Mishel wasn't sure how long she'd even stay there. The teenager could feel the pulse of the music in her veins. "Thank you," she said to the escort and then she slipped into the suite and let her hand grace the silk cover. Examining the suite as she made a mental note of where everything was and just as she stepped out she noted her luggage was being brought over.

Music continued to beat and pulsate throughout every inch and fibre of the vessel. Or so it seemed, the zero-g dance floor was obvious but the sheer opulence of this place was what really got her. Perhaps the days she spent hidden away on Virgillia had really gotten to her, or even the days on Monastery. The word escaped her, "wow." The colours that flooded the black space, as they illuminated the entirety of the club. Drinks flowed as easily as the people it seemed, she put the mask on and went about her way. She half wondered if she would meet any of the Ren here, and in the same instant; doubtful. Her other persona disapproved greatly, but on this night she was going to be in control because she refused to let her other half ruin this. She would let herself drown in the sound, in the beat of the night as her body took to the rhythm.

A hundred stories of sinful waste, a hundred stories that would never be remembered, and a hundred stories that would be shared until the night wasted away into the day. For even the highest powers in the galaxy needed to find a release. Mishel was grateful for the invitation as she started to blend into the crowd, and for once, she did not care who noticed her force aura. Perhaps it was being here that allowed her to be free, or perhaps it was the fact that the AI would certainly react to any acts of combat. Or maybe it was the idea that she could be one of those one hundred stories that could happen on this night or the next.

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBJk0Tq3JDU[/media]

 

[Goran]

How does a Shard in an astromech chassis dance?

Easy. It puts on its Little Black Dress.

The weapons had been left behind. That cut down on weight. The zero gravity dance floor made things a lot easier. Under ordinary circumstances, it was way too big and way too slow to dance, but out here?

Oooooooooh yeah.

Could what Goran was doing be counted as dancing? Probably. It was roughly in time with the music, and the rhythmic gyrations were reminiscent of organic dance. Nonetheless, everyone seemed to give Goran a wide berth, and it was slightly confused. Wasn't this how organic mating was supposed to go? Show up, hit the dance floor, bust out some sick moves. Maybe it was the dress. Was it too much?

Eh, kark it. This was all about the dance.

 

[Darth Morbian]

What the feth have you gotten yourself into this time.... the young Epicanthix thought to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. A long, low sigh of frustration posted his lips as he nodded absently to the bartender as they recommended a whiskey. Anything that might help me hate this less.... he contemplated moodily.

The young Zambrano fancied himself a Master of Pain, and never was quite one to find pleasure in such.... carnal affairs.... so the upbeat atmosphere just felt.... wrong....

After a few brief moments, he's find a glass of honey-colored liquid, with three rock-like shards of ice, slipped into his awaiting hand by the bartender. Raising the glass in a salute of thanks, he'd bring it to his lips and let the liquid pass over his tongue, and give that oh-so-pleasurable burn all the way down his throat.

A quick adjustment of his coat, the Knight turned about, elbows resting back against the bar, as those star-burst eyes began scanning. What are you doing here Seth....

Spoiler

on mobile, dunno how to link all pretty on mobile,
But here's the outfit. https://i.pinimg.com/736x/8e/63/b3/8e63b31cde55dbae3bccc677aefdc3a8--men-blazer-spirit-awards.jpg

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Calina checked herself in the long mirror, brushing her hair behind her ear and twisting to assess whether her dress was the right choice. This was a new environment for her, even with the room's soundproofing she could feel the energy from the club beyond, enticing her to join them/ Fun was not something she could honestly say she'd had, not in this sense at least. Friends had been forbidden, enjoyment limited to the rare occasions that she could get one up on her mother. But Anaya Fen was dead and gone and Calina was free.

Satisfied, she adjusted the diamante choker and swept from the room, the sound of her heels clicking across the floor drowned by the thrum of the music the moment she stepped into the corridors. She moved to the balcony and cast her eyes over the club, heart racing at the sheer scale of it, the lights and the noise overwhelming. Taking a deep breath to calm unnecessary nerves she moved away, finding her way down to the bar.

Perhaps someone would show her the ropes, or maybe she would spend her time observing and trying to understand. It seemed bizarre, that the daughter of Anaya Fen had no idea how to act here. Anaya would have thrived, her daughter might very well sink. The bartender was quick to reach her, pouring a glass of wine at her request, Calina curled her hands about it and turned to rest her back against the bar, eyes alert and scanning all that passed her.

 

[Jairdain]

Walking the fine line between light and dark, Jairdain felt she needed to tip the scales some and find where she really belonged. While the path of neutrality was nice, there was no challenge in it for her. There was no longer the need to fight for control over the different aspects of the Force when one controlled both. While she had been pulling away from the Sith, she still felt called to them. So that call had to be answered and she joined for this party.

She came as herself and didn't actually wear anything fancy. If they didn't like it, then they could kick her out and she wouldn't be back. Wearing a dark, off the shoulder top and black pants, Jairdain climbed out of her ship to be greeted by a robot that lead her to her room and left her there.

Alone now, she struck off in the direction of where the music was coming from and quietly entered the room, hopefully unnoticed so far. However, Jairdain did not go out of her way to keep her presence hidden. It was a party, but she wasn't ready to be noticed yet.

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

It had been far too long since Kaalia had gone out with the simple intention of having a good time, no strings attached. Her mind went back in time to remember when she had last done so and it brought her to Zeltros, where by ridiculous chance she ran into not only her good friend [member="Hazel Zanteres"], but also her current plus one and the one who sat next to her as their vessel docked onto the Technicolor Beat, [member="Ishana Pavanos"]. The memories were fondly kept and as Kaalia recalled that night made a mental note to talk to the brunette about visiting the planet again sometime. That was for later however, she thought as the boarding ramp lowered to allow the two access to the vessel they would be staying in over the weekend. She pushed back a lock of hair behind her shoulder as she got up from her seat, her eye catching something sparkling around her ring finger as her hand flashed past. There was a big difference between Zeltros and now.

Kaalia was a married woman now.

That was a realization that still took her off-guard at times. The journey that started all that time ago had taken a turn that the woman had never expected. "Miala, you ready? The dancefloor's waiting for us." Walking over to her wife she linked her right arm with her left, a bag with some items such as fresh clothes and the like flung over her left shoulder, before moving to leave the vessel they had arrived in. There were a good amount of others who were currently disembarking from their own ships, although none of them were people she recognized. While walking down the ramp she turned her head towards the droid that made its way towards the duo.

"Welcome aboard the Technicolor Beat. May I register your names, so I can synchronize them with the guest list?"

The words were met with a nod. The fact it was a closed affair, despite the large number of people invited, did not make much of a difference to her, but the fact everything had been taken care of beforehand was most definitely a thing she appreciated. "Kaalia Voldaren." Immediately after saying that she shook her head slightly and went to correct herself. "Sorry, I meant Pavanos-Voldaren. Kaalia Pavanos-Voldaren." The woman cast a glance sideways and smiled towards Ishana, then chuckling as she looked back at the droid.

After the brunette did the same they were asked to follow the robot as it started leading them towards their shared room, where they could leave their things before they would head out to wherever they wanted to go. One thing was for certain- they weren't going to get bored anytime soon.

 

[Samka Derith]

Socialising.

Samka liked to believe she was rather good at it, the only problem was that this wasn't her typical environment. Typically the girl was used to the prim and the proper or the perfectly ordinary. The situations she normally blended in to, perhaps even enjoyed, were either the elegant or the bland. Rarely had Samka attended events such as this. Her apparent innocence and youth which worked so well in making her below the notice of others in most situations, instead made her stand out. That and she was quite clearly not at home in them. Her personal disdain for drugs, sex and alcohol were difficult to hide. It meant her experiences to call upon were limited and the challenge of blending in became that much more difficult.

But she wasn't here to blend in today.

Samka injected a needle with a vial into the vein on her arm. A concoction of liquid designed to counteract the affects of the pheromones. She would let nothing interfere with her state of mind.

She was here as herself with a series of goals. Most obviously, to monitor the activities of the various First Order officers in attendance. Even here, there would be no escape from the watchful eye of First Order's mighty state apparatus and any extreme acts of deviance would be dealt with accordingly once they returned to their own space. The other was to access the Sith in attendance. They certainly had their use but whether this new Sith Empire was simply a blunt object which could be aimed at their mutual foes before an inevitable fall to Sith in-fighting or whether they were something more was what she had yet to determine. [member="Darth Carnifex"] had her respect but an empire was more than just the man at the top. The spirit of the men and women at every level would determine their true strength, trustworthiness and longevity.

There was a final, hidden objective. To network. Gradually, Samka's influence was spreading outside of the Supreme Leader's direct control. She had her own servants among the First Order, the Knights of Ren and beyond, even a cult revering her as a prophet. People who owed themselves to her above all others. She was moving from an agent of others into a player in her own right. She'd never dream of upstaging him but lately she had grown... suspicious. There were clues saying the health of their Supreme Leader, in body and mind, was decreasing. It never hurt to prepare for every eventuality.

So it was with this in mind, she left her room behind and marched into the main area between the bar and the dance floor. She was dressed in dark uniform. Not robes but something resembling an officer's uniform so she looked smart, important. Her hair glistened pleasantly and her face shined. She'd prettied up for the evening, if only because it attracted more opportunity to speak to others.

She sighed, tapping her shoes together and cracking her neck.

Whether this night would proceed for good or ill, she did not yet know. But it was worth a shot.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

As The Slave handed his drink off to one of the numerous Zeltros waitresses that wandered the facility, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to a familiar presence. A small framed girl with a danger all of her own; and an unnaturally steely expression. She was trying not to have fun, and that made her unique.

She was here for something.

A grin crept on his face as he made the connection in his head, back to the first time he saw her. She was perhaps undercover, wrapped in a tight dress and dancing with someone he didn’t know. There was a obvious disconnect from then to now, but one that didn’t confuse The Slave so much as enticed him with faint curiosity. Who would have thought she was a member of the First Order?

“Cybele, do you see that girl that just walked in?”, he chimed in to the well hidden earbud he kept up to date with the ship’s happenings on.

“I do. What seems to be the matter?”

“Invite her over here. I want to have a chat.”

“A chat, Sir?”, she jested.

“Don’t get jealous.”, he chuckled back, readjusting the sunglasses he wore despite the extremely dark nature of the club.

And so a droid would make its way to her, a faceless droid armed with minimal self defense measures and equal servant protocols. It would ask Samka to join The Slave above the bar in his makeshift VIP center, while another droid brought another folding chair to the two’s area.

“The host would like to meet you, miss.”, Cybele would echo.

[member="Samka Derith"]

 

[Darth Morbian]

Quietly observing various party-goers, Sethaius arched an eyebrow when he first witnessed another individual get swept up into the 0g "dance-floor". And that.... is my queue to leave.... theKnight would muse to himself, as he placed his mostly drained glass upon the bar.

That sight, coupled with the strange, almost heaviness, he was staying to feel from the pheromones in the air, seemed to give a conflicting message to the young Sith's mind. He wanted to flee, but he also wanted to stay. Nothing about this felt right...

So he quickly attempted to beeline the best he could out to a more.... pheromone-free zone.... if possible. Away from the main area, there was blind to be a lighter presence of the mind altering atmosphere, right?

He attempted to avoid eye-contact as he moved, concentrating to make it seem more like a man on a mission, rather than one well outside anything remotely resembling a 'comfort zone'....

In his attempted flight, he faltered, stopping dead in his tracks with a feeble apology of a simple "Pardon..." to a pair of women, linked arm in arm, that he almost trampled had he not stopped when he did. Skirting about them before giving them a chance to respond, he continued his hasty retreat, the pheromones effect growing heavier by the moment, the cloud in his mind thickening apace....

 

[Alkor Centaris]

They told him to dress nice. He washed his clothes the night before, and held off on drinking until he arrived at the venue. For Alkor Centaris, formalities were pointless, niceties a waste of time, and propriety held conditional to his respect for a particular person.

Tonight he wore the same black, tattered spacer's cloak he always did, along with loose fitting, earthy brown trousers and an undershirt with more holes than a honeycomb. Both his lightsabers hung at either side of his waistline, and by reputation alone everyone knew that this man never went unarmed.

It was pointless to ask him to do otherwise.

He was not here for a fight, and lest the atmosphere change enough to stir one, there was no danger of the Corellian lifting a finger. The Sith had explained the benefits of good relations with the First Order, and he would leave them to their devices; when they said he needed to show his face, he was more than recalcitrant.

"There'll be booze," [member="Darth Carnifex"] had said.

The Zambrano knew Alkor's selling point. Damn him to all the hells. So, with the stubborn and spiteful intention of drinking the Sith into crippling debt, Alkor reached out and invited the one other person he knew could plunder a whole system of booze and stay standing.

[member="Eralam"]

 

[Eralam]

Eralam was not one for formal events.

He was not one for informal events.

It wasn't a stretch to say that he was not, in fact, much for events.

But.

There was Alky, and there was booze. The normally reclusive Shard saw that he had no choice but to attend this little shindig. Despite his discomfort with the crowds, the music, the literally everything, he was on a mission. There was, or so he was told, enough booze on this ship to last 30,000 people five years. The party was scheduled for a week. If they were going to make a dent in that, they were going to have to start early, and they were going to have to go hard. The Shard didn't have his usual weapons. Instead, he had a roll of duct tape.

He rolled up to the bar and collected four bottles of top shelf scotch, and motioned [member="Alkor Centaris"] over.

"Initiated Edward 40 hands."

 

[Lark]

When Lark was a child he liked to play a game with some of his fellow orphans. They'd scale a nearby building, some of the higher ones in his hometown were only a few stories tall, but to an adventurous group of children they felt like mountains that nearly touched the murky sky above them. The roofs of the buildings would be open, with shoddy wooden balconies infested with maggots and constantly wet from rainfall. He was about nine or ten years old at the time, and the others with him were around the same age, perhaps a bit younger. Once the small group of children were there, Lark would slip a bottle out of a small leather bag. Sometimes it was wine, sometimes it was vodka. One time he managed to knick a bit of spice from some of the drug traffickers that littered the place like bugs that little the web of a clever spider. It didn't matter the substance, as long as it clouded the mind.

Lark would always go first, seeing someone else play the game beforehand always seemed to ease the minds of those that came after. He'd take a big swig of whatever he brought, part of him believed that the reason he didn't taste much now was because of how badly the alcohol burned his throat. His eyes would water, his senses would flare up, but he wouldn't let it show. And then, right after drinking, Lark would step up onto the balcony railing. On one side a fall of only a foot or so, on the other a several story drop that normally resulted in bloody soups of gore and bone. Step by step, Lark would cross the railing, hands held peacefully behind his back. Never once did he lose the game. Sometimes some of the other orphans made it across. Most of the time they didn't. Sometimes the ones who fell got up. Most of the time they didn't.

He hadn't drunk much since then. Techno music and the murmurs of socializing from the Sith and First Order elites drowned out nearly every hallway Lark wandered down, alternating in their prominence. He held a small glass of whiskey in his hand as he observed the processions, only a few sips had been taken. It went down a lot smoother now than it had back then. He wore a radiant white shirt with a black tie, his long scarlet hair draped down his shoulder like a blanket, a brilliant contrast to his apparel.

His pale, clean-shaven face bore a soft smile as he stepped into one of the numerous dance floors in the luxury cruiser. Besides the alcohol, he could sense something else affecting the atmosphere around him, and for a few moments he was on edge. He doubted it was a trap, but one could never be certain. Nevertheless, Lark found himself succumbing to whatever forces were acting upon him. It had been to long since he had been able to socialize, he didn't want to waste this opportunity. Without a flinch, Lark downed the rest of his whiskey and set it down on a nearby bar. Perhaps he'd return for more later, although he wanted to retain some control over his senses.

But now, it was time for a dance. He had never danced in zero gravity before but how hard could it really be? When he stepped onto the zero gravity dance floor, it took him a moment to adjust to the odd, unfamiliar sensation. But after a minute or so, it felt as natural as breathing. He let himself drift over to where a large number of people congregated, a pleasing mixture of those of the First Order and of the Sith.

The minutes passed quickly, dance partners transitioning every song. Some of them might have been pretty, he didn't really know. Flashes of multi-colored light gleamed in the chamber around them, and as each partner came and went he felt in complete control of his actions, as graceful as the most practiced dancers. His smile, as warm and welcoming as the sun, beckoned more dancers to come forward and lose themselves in the libidinous aura around them.

This will be such fun, Lark thought to himself.

@Anyone who wants to dance or party

 

[Samka Derith]

The party was beginning. No sooner had it done so than a machine approached her.

"I don't want a drink, thank you," she told the droid curtly.

But it didn't offer drinks. It offered her a place with the host.

Sam's head cocked to the side a bit. Already? She didn't expect it that quick but she'd accept it.

The Ren nodded to the droid, "I'd welcome a meeting with our mysterious host," and set off, hopping on her heels along the way.

---

Crossing her way to [member="The Slave"], Samka curtsied once the pair were close enough to speak. "Well isn't this a pleasure?"

She smiled, a sugared smile full of promise. "This gathering can't have come cheap, however did you afford such a thing?"

She wasn't sure what to make of this man just yet. He reeked of the Dark Side and, beyond that, a lifestyle of hedonism. He felt like no Sith, the ones who craved power, to the Ren, it felt like the man craved pleasure instead.

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

It had been awhile since Jorryn was afforded the chance to simply go out and enjoy herself, even just the opportunity to wear some of her clothes she worried would have worn away tucked into her closet after being left so long. She had almost forgotten what it was like to wear something that wasn't inherently protective as she pulled the light sweater down over her head. Despite what the Sith said about their words, the freedom from guilt in revelling in the Dark Side also caused caution in the backstabbing world of the Sith where one could not afford to be caught unarmed.

Fortunately the host for this party had already taken that care of, being smart to the ways of the Sith but also giving them the freedom to lower their guards for even a short period of time. She leaned over the chair facing her mirror as she examined the invite on the datapad, lifting it from the mess she had left on the desk. She had heard little of the Technicolour Beat before the invite had arrived, let alone the person behind the curtains of the ship. Curiosity crept along the edges of her mind as she wondered if she would run into him at the club.

"We are here ma'am, hope you're ready." The voice that had eerily began to speak familiarly to her, rang from the system running through her transport.

Jorryn grabbed the red knit scarf as she made her way out of the room, spinning it around her neck. "Watch your tone, Erik, we aren't equals." She said less solemnly than normal, a cadence in her voice that left the pilot with a self-pleased grin as he began to lower the ramp. She was in too pleased a mood to properly put the ever-smug slave in his place, letting him off just this once. "Of Course." He said, gratifyingly.

She brushed her long silver hair back over the scarf as she descended down the ramp into one of the many docking bays the club had to offer, hearing Erik quickly scurry to whatever activity he had planned for himself to pass the time. Both of them knew that the ship wouldn't leave in the first night, for she had planned to be enjoy her time here for as long as she could.

Enjoy your time aboard the Technicolour Beat

She gave a faint smile to the disembodied voice as it registered her invite, before making her way into the gate. The glaring lights of the club greeted her warmly as she made her way inside as she took a second to embrace the vibe of the club, a deep breath allowing the pheromones inside Jorryn's lungs as her mind began to pleasantly haze. She made her way to the edge of the floor as she watched the bodies float across the view dancing as best they could with nothing to ground them, amusing her almost as much as the 3 tonne literal dancing machine that was clearly visible from any floor in the club.

Her crimson eyes darted amongst her fellow guests as she looked for an individual to mingle with as Jorryn made her was across the floor of the club to the edge, grabbing a drink from a serving droid and letting her fall away into the grav-free zone in one fluid motion. The intense loudness of the music pounding through her ribcage as she began to sway slowly to the music, taking a sip from her drink as she allowed herself to float away mentally and physically.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

A soft expression peered over his shoulder towards the well postured Samka. A finger rested on his chin, but it hardly drew any attention when considering the rest of his garb. The Slave seemed dressed for a beach party, with a fully unbuttoned floral print shirt, a pair of blackened sunglasses even he probably couldn’t see through, a pair of shorts, and sandals. Why was he wearing just this to a somewhat formal get together between two major factions?

Honestly, he probably didn’t know either. At least he was comfy.

Still, a smile dripped from his lips before he motioned to the other folding chair next to him. His voice ran like silver as he spoke, one of the many iconic features he was known for.

“Come, please; Sit.”, he chuckled before glancing back to the crowd.

Once she had, he’d continue;

“Are those the questions you really want to ask?”, he offered with a passive glance towards her, then back to a rather large gentlemen walking in with two twi’leks beneath his arm. Probably a sith, judging by his aggressive demeanor.

“I’ll answer whatever you want, but I want to ask a few things;”

“The first being, why aren’t you enjoying yourself?”, he said with a devilish grin.

[member="Samka Derith"]

 

[Ignatius]

Taking a hold of the hood, I pulled it up around my horns. The hood wasn't much. Just a little sash that came down around the front of me and covered a bit of my shoulders. The dress bottom I wore was held together by various avian feathers, and a leather belt. The white strap top I wore was just to cover up my naughty bits, and to have some color other than red and black. The necklaces I wore were made of the bones from various creatures, and dragon pearls. Quite expensive, but it was worth it.

Looking around, I could already see a few of the various Sith members that I knew, or had heard about it. Watching as the Shard [member="Eralam"], walked over to [member="Alkor Centaris"] to have a few drinks. or [member="The Slave"] himself talking with a rather strange looking girl([member="Samka Derith"]). Or the fact that we had a behemoth of a Shard dancing in Zero-G dance floor(@Goran). It looked quite the party. I smiled lightly as I slid past my apprentice [member="Jairdain"] . Voicing a little as I walked past her and towards the bar with the two men already drinking their fill.

"Relax, and enjoy yourself. Let your emotions take over for a bit. Trust me, One doesn't have a good time if they are worried about the rules."

A little wink to her as I passed them, I made my way to the man who could be our only Emo Dark Jedi. Semi-long disheveled hair and a signature powerful enough to rip worlds asunder, Alkor. I placed my hand on his back gingerly as I nodded my welcome to the Shard who was attempting to start the process of Edward 40 hands.

"You know if they have anything better than 90 proof darling? Cus anything less is piss."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8lrzdVdCaI​

 

[Ishana Pavanos]

T E C H N I C O L O R B E A T​

Taking a deep breath, Ishana exhaled and pardoned the man [member="Darth [/FONT][/SIZE][FONT='lucida sans unicode'][SIZE=14px]Morbian[/FONT][/SIZE][FONT='lucida sans unicode'][SIZE=14px]"] who ran into her and her wife, "you're excused." She said matter of factly and smiled inwardly at the sound of Pavanos-Voldaren. "Ishana Pavanos-Voldaren, yes thank you." She adjusted her black denim crop jacket and pulled on the fabric of her leggings. She turned to look out onto the dance floor and of course at the mention of dancing she gave her wife a grin. The Balmorran ran a hand through her hair and placed her hand onto the handle of the door to their suite. In a come-hither motion, she welcomed the redhead into the suite and marvelled if only a moment at it before shedding her denim jacket. The pilot rifled through her luggage a moment before changing for the evening, and in a matter of minutes she was dressed and ready to go.

In a million years, Ishana never imagined herself married and yet here she was married to the most beautiful woman in this galaxy. Beyond the obvious, beauty Ishana found that Kaalia was easy to talk to, she could tell her anything and it would be held in confidence. She trusted her with her life, and at the same time the pilot knew that she'd give her life if it meant that Kaalia would live. Of all the things that Ishana had done in this galaxy, getting married to Kaalia was the best thing that she had ever done. "Now I'm ready," she pulled the redhead down to her level and gave her a kiss, "c'mon lets go turn some heads."

[member="Kaalia Voldaren"]

 

[Mishel Kryze]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4K6zI7Jw50[/media]​

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Mishel paused a moment as she felt an all familiar presence, just as she had always felt it. [member="Samka Derith"] and in the moment she sent a small pulsating wave through the force, like a gentle tap on a shoulder. And then the teenager who would soon celebrate eighteen galactic years moved through the club and headed for the bar. Pheromones be damned the young Ren had not planned on being imbued with such a thing. Not that she cared as she felt the alcohol take over her body and lost herself to the beat of the music, she was not so uncoordinated that she flailed. No, oddly enough, Mishel was very much coordinated even as her mind melted away into the night. It was like second nature to her, dancing was much like a duel as there was footwork involved.

The Zero-G dance floor made for a more interesting time when she decided to lift off and float. Float is what she felt and to feel so lifeless, felt freeing if she were, to be honest. To feel nothing and be free, empty yourself of all emotions. Refuse to fight, refuse to feel - for none of it mattered in the end anyway, her hands moved to grab hold of another passing bar just to bring herself up right again. A hollow shell is what she decided to be on this night, a refute to the inevitable caving for when Mishel would be the mask that Meszouz would wear. With each passing moment of the beat, she continued to feel the pulse of the evening in her heart. Boom, boom, boom with some varied melody over the harmony that didn't quite make sense in her mind as she was used to the more classical tunes of the First Order.

And as she came down to one particular end of the bar, she found someone, rather just a someone she wanted to engage with. Letting herself go again she let the nightclub carry her to the woman in question. "Mind if I join you?" Was the casual line she had often heard from [member="Ara Zambrano"] when she was a Ren, before she came back to life and became the Crowned Queen of Panatha. Not that Mishel was bitter about it or anything, it's not every day your sister dies, comes back to life and gets to be Queen. Nope. Or, every day your other sister betrays your entire order and then has the audacity to show up again, as Mishel could feel Kaalia's aura just the same. She didn't care tonight, her question was poised to [member="Jorryn Fordyce"], someone she had not yet become acquainted with but wanted to become a little more than acquainted with.

 

[Vereshin]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BURM7l6_pvg​

In the bathroom of a suite aboard the vast pleasure ship, Vereshin shaved cautiously while the vibrations of music pulsated through his reflection. Equations scribbled on a piece of paper fell from the mirror and floated to the floor. The sorcerer's date prepared with haste and shuffled through cases of black lace and ruffles, Vereshin glanced over his shoulder in curiosity as Pom continued to dress even hours before himself. He washed his face and combed his hair, rubbing a moisturizing serum into his cheeks and dampening his neck in a cologne. Slipping his coat over a waistcoat baring silver buttons, he greeted Pom and they exited together.

The two pallid figures, clad entirely in obsidian slunk coyly beneath long coats through the corridor and arrived at the main entrance. With one hand on the soft waist of his date, Vereshin pulled Pom in closer and nestled her head beneath his chin while the service droid arrived to take their coats. Vereshin a raised and politely declined, bejeweled silver rings sitting on his fingers and turned around to face Pom. Her alabaster skin glowed beneath the lights in contrast with her raven lips and straight cut bangs.

"You look beautiful." The sorcerer tried to say beneath the music, placing a hand behind her head and pulling her closer so she could hear. After succumbing to the extent of his Dark Side corruption, the witch healed Vereshin back to health and the two found a more intimate place in each other's lives than expected. He brought her as his plus one to party, which The Slave had invited him to upon his membership within the Praetor, in effort to introduce the tiny w0man to the many faces of the Sith and First Order under casual circumstances.

Vereshin held Pom's hand as they strode towards the bar. The sorcerer hailed the emerald Twi'lek serving drinks and ordered a shot of vodka while fumbling in his coat pocket for his cigarette case. He flicked open the silver lid and slid the clove cylinder in his mouth, lighting the end with a snap of his fingers and a display of violet sparks. He leaned against the bar with a protective arm around Pom's shoulders and the cigarette in the other, inhaling eagerly while he scanned the room for a familiar face.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]