The Black Party - FO & TSE

[Adriana Fortemps]

A playful smile unwittingly crept it's way across Jorryn's face as her drink touched her dark red lips, her eyes turning towards the girl as she made her way across the floor. Jorryn put the drink back on the counter as her eyes lingered on the girl as she drifted away into the crowd and lights, slowly disappearing from view. A small chuckle escaped Jorryn's throat as she imagined the girl's backstory, the cadence of her voice as she spoke the word free told Jorryn all she needed to know about what her life outside the club was.

Her elbow found it's way onto the counter as she leaned into her palm, lifting a finger to the bartender signalling for bring her another drink. Idea's raced through Jorryn's mind about the girl, whether she was just from a stricter branch of the Sith or had just killed herself free and found the force. The most exciting idea that raced through her mind was if the girl had been a Jedi just recently freed from the tight embrace of moral righteousness, the beautiful period of time in which all the dark emotions one felt would rise past the surface and could feel true freedom.

Jorryn herself had never been fool enough to allow a moral code to be enforced on herself, but she could only imagine the intense euphoria one would feel after such a drastic change in lifestyle. Her mind went back to the girl that had came up to her, maybe feigning disinterest wasn't the best path for this night to go. She only had a little window to enjoy herself before she had to return to her duties as an acolyte of the Sith, might as well make the most of one night.

Throwing back the drink, she gave small sign of appreciation to the bar tender as the pheromones hazed her attitude of superiority. Jorryn kicked off from the side of the bar as she made her way through the now packed crowd, the vibrations of the music pulsing through the bodies of others as they drifted into her path. She was tempted to find any stranger and dance the night away, but her curiosity kept her going in the direction she saw the girl go. The words echoing in her head as her imagination came up with suggestions of what the girl's idea of freedom meant, as Jorryn began to look around for her.

[member="Mishel Zanteres"]​

 

[Rys'sya]

Stepping off of the transport, heels clicking ever so sharply, the young Miraluka adjusted the lace covering upon her face, ensuring her eyeless upper portion would not be too disarming for those of the sighted. Smiling to herself, she waved off a droid offering to escort her to the main dance-hall, a delicate gesture with that lace covered hand.

She knew where the party was. She could feel it from here. Clicking along, she would soon find herself practically assaulted by the psionic impact of the alcohol and pheromones on the patrons. And she relished it. The carnality, the energy. The freedom. She moved deeper into the throng of people, before attending to the energy, the music, and the abundance of life.

All life has a purpose in this galaxy. Right now though. The lives here? They served as a release for the young sorceress. They're energy alone was a more potent intoxicant for her than any liquid kept behind the bar.

The music seemed to take control of her body, as she lost herself to the masses moving about in the 0g dance floor.​

Spoiler

The dress:

 

[Vereshin]

The pheromones found their way into Vereshin's system as he hugged Pom's waist closer to his side. Leaning downwards, he rubbed his nose in her hair and moved his hand over her shape to caress the side of her chest. The barmaid arrived with his drink and he held the glass to his lips to take a small sip, jolting upon receiving the strong taste. He inhaled on the clove cigarette and caught sight of the host's pale hair. As Pom spoke up, he delivered a discrete smile in her direction and glanced over mischievously at the Slave.

"Alright, let's go and meet him." Vereshin took another sip of the vodka and picked up his glass, the cigarette balancing between his fingers of the same hand. He maintained a protective grip around Pom's waist while they approached [member="The Slave"] and [member="Samka Derith"], raising the glass in his hand slightly to acknowledge the host before setting it down on a table waiting beside them.

"Hello Miss Derith and..." The Sith paused as he wondered idly about how to address his new associate. "Forgive me, I have never heard your true name." He raised his eyebrows in curiosity towards the Slave. "Miss Derith, I am Vereshin and this is Pom Stych Tivé, a fellow arcane practitioner who I am introducing to the ways of the Sith." He decided against mentioning the details of their relationship, maintaining their privacy and seperating pleasure with profession. His physical fondness towards Pom remained evident enough. The pheromones continued to work and Vereshin found himself increasingly relaxed, heightening in desire and hormonal impulse. The back of his neck grew hot and he swallowed, taking another short sip of his drink.

"What would you prefer I call you?" Vereshin asked the Slave. He slid his hand from Pom's waist and across her hips, feeling the shape of her and holding her closer to his own. He stopped himself from repeatedly shifting his gaze over her features, distracted by her beauty and losing his hold of perception. "Pom, Samka is a master of a Ren and a prominent figure of the First Order, this is my new associate within the Sith." He introduced and Samka before referring to Slave without the name he did not know.

[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

When the drinks arrived Kaalia took a good swig of her brandy, savoring the burning sensation in her throat as the liquid went down. It reminded her of the first time she tried it and being taken off-guard by the effect it had on her, but over time she had learned to appreciate it. It was not common for her to drink, but when she did brandy was very much her first choice. Much like Ishana she was going to look to keep the amount of drinks fairly low tonight, but one to start the night off was to help her get in the right mood. Another sip later she finished the glass, putting it back down as she heard the music shift in style.

The woman felt an arm wrap around her waist, to which she looked over her shoulder, seeing Ishana move to the music as she did. That look in her eyes told Kaalia everything and the thought of it alone caused her to bite her lower lip, completely enamored by her wife. She offered no resistance as she was guided towards the dancefloor, in her mind during that moment there was only Ishana. They looked each other in the eyes once again as the brunette passed by her and motioned her to follow before blending into the mass of people, and without hesitation she followed. weaving her way through the crowd the redhead scanned around to find her and it led her into the zero-g space, her body leaving the floor as she started floating.

Kaalia made sure not to let Ishana out of her sight for long, and when she found her she immediately went to approach the pilot, the Kro Varian's eyes fixated only on her. Nothing would stop her from this dance, feeling the music pulsate through her. As she got close she leaned into her wife's ear, speaking just loud enough for her to hear. "Dance with me, miala."

[member="Ishana Pavanos"]

 

[The Major]

Drugs! Blood! Booze! Dance! ​

Ordeal of ordeals- chaos spinning upon itself in a mass of tangled bodies. This was Hell, churning, sweating, secreting, and mysterious in its purpose. All of it was an illusion presenting a fleeting moment of power in the context of endlessness. What a masterstroke. Whoever organized this had surely outdone themselves.

And also the barkeep was on point with this cocktail. Yum!

Sipping drinks was an affectation for a lady at court; tonight, the Major set the glass upon her teeth and poured the contents directly into the back of her throat. Following that up with the water, she examined this new found world ravaged by what could only be described as a sylvatic jungle: people reduced to their basest and most animalistic of instincts. Not that she judged them for it. On the contrary, watching people jumble themselves up into separate pens and vie to swap body fluids made for a most vigorous safari. Why, it pleased her so much so that she could almost feel something starting to buzz within her chest.

Those drinks are refreshed, and after tossing the keep a tip the Fallanassi turned and leaned against the table -its construction becoming the perfect compliment to her height. As she more slowly enjoyed the alcohol her left foot found the metal leg rest underneath and the young woman locked her heel cap into place. This pushed her left thigh outwards as the knee bent and pulled the garter belt taunt against pale skin. It would have almost been a smoldering, seductive invitation, if it wasn’t completely out of accident and a lack of attention.

Eventually her gaze drops from [member="Eralam"], combat Shard and her mentor of sorts, and she slowly traced a sweep from one side of her vantage point across to the other with the precision of a sniper sighting upon the field.

"An Avalonian Long, on the rocks please." Came a voice like a cool breeze in hot summer to one side.

Being an anti-social expert of sorts when the mood struck, the Major would have continued to ignore the visible violation of her bar space to her right. However, this annoying presence kept hovering and that awkward sensation of being stared at was starting to ruin the Special Agent’s feng shui. Now, nine times out of ten the person hanging about would be some drunk looking to start some stale small chat about moisture evaporators or how their husband Jerry just didn’t see them for the proper flower they truly were. Nine times out of ten you were not attending a rave hosted by Sith lords.

Nine times out of ten you do not get approached by a Ren trained by Commander Derith with a mischievous smile on her face as she peered.

So as the four eyed woman of victorian inclination turned her head to give out either a word lashing or some creepy speech in the hopes of regaining the personal space bubble, her mouth parted in hesitance -somewhat stupidly. Lips adorned in sanguine paint twisted and realigned themselves into a bemused self aware smirk.

“Oh dear. I thought you were someone else. . .” Smoothly crowed the Major. Her glasses reflected the ever shaking lights of the uberclub, hiding her eyes in a phantasmagoric swirl of bouncing trance rhythm.

Drawn in by the charisma on display from just the subtle body language of her posture and approach, the agent takes in as much detail on the Ren as possible. Hazel eyes shifted from gray to green to flecks of goldenrod as the lighting of the rave painted them both in ever shifting tints. Tawny skin was patterned quite nicely with the patches of lace running up her arms. Dark brown hair reminiscent of coffee or espresso hung in a patented approach to form and function. A ren was expected to look dangerous after achieving some sort of mastery, and this teen gave off that dangerous vibe in spades -although the Agent would bet on a different type of danger than what’s most expected.

What could be further said? The First Order knew exactly where to find the perfect representative for whatever job was on the line.

Now, the enigmatic Security Bureau operative couldn’t tell you what this Ren’s name was or even which campaigns she had partaken in. All of that still was a mystery. The Major could only say for sure that the same face had appeared in the roster somewhere within that exotic group’s records; you could also say the Fallanassi was a sucker for mysteries.

“. . .but I daresay this is a much better surprise. Wouldn't you?”

[member="Samka Derith"] [member="The Slave"] [member="Mishel Zanteres"] [member="Jorryn Fordyce"]​

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Mishel's mind seemed to blur from this point forward, as she sipped on an Avalonian Long that was perhaps a bit stronger than the typical serving on Dosuun. Her delicate fingers curled around the glass, the index finger tracing around the opening. Her right hand tucked firmly between the counter and torso, synthetic skin an ever-present reminder of what the Ssi-Ruuk had taken from her. The haze that bore down on the front of her mind gave way to an affixed gaze on the redhead beside her. "Funny," she began in earnest, "you have no idea how often I get that." She commented on the woman's 'someone else,' phrase. A small open smile with a tugging at either end showing her more than a mischievous grin.

The Tygaran took in a breath, inhaling more of the pheromones that swirled about. Her eyes settled on the dark cerulean orbs in front of her as they sat behind glasses. She cast a downward glance at her half-empty, near empty as she finished it off in a sorority fashion. She watched as the lights from the uberclub danced about in the reflection of the other woman's glasses. Mishel made note of the frames and how they fit just right on the frame of the redhead. Ever entranced by the woman's expression but more so by just how at ease the woman seemed to be. Not that Mishel could quite differentiate between the subtle changes in body language at this point, between the alcohol and the pheromones she certain to have been freed from her normal thought process.

When the other woman spoke again, the brunette turned and once more locked her gaze. It was here she noted the way her hair seemed to remind Tygaran of the sunset over the Rapachi Mountains on Virgillia. The hues and brightness as the light began to fade and how the soft fiery hues seemed to cling longer than most of the other colours. A smile reappeared and tugged at the corner's of Mishel's lips as she answered, "a far better surprise than any one person could imagine." Her tone was par the course for someone from the Unknown Regions and in particular a smattering of some backwater accent from Dosuun and Virgillia itself. A consequence of being asked to become more of a lady and less of a scoundrel, and for Mishel she could not place or say if she knew the woman from somewhere else. Suffice to say before this night she hadn't met her before. Part of the idea of the Ren was they only needed to know the people and places when they needed to know them. Not for a moment longer and not a moment sooner, most of the Ren also kept up appearences. Blending into their Imperial society with ease so that they may keep an ever watchful eye over their father's empire.

Mishel's cover was that of a university student, at the University of Avalonia. Colloquially known as Avalonia University, a freshman who had not yet decided what to do with themselves and managed to score an internship with the Office of the Grand Moff. And tonight, she sought to maintain the cover if at least as the sorority girl that she was supposed to be. In the back of her mind she had not forgotten the other woman from earlier in the evening, but at the moment she only had eyes for woman of a victorian manner, a woman whose name she yet to recieve. "Allow me to introduce myself then, if, we are to get acquainted in any manner. I am Mishel Zanteres, University of Avalonia." She said with a warm tone one that felt so much easier to use than her everyday charm.

[member="Jorryn Fordyce"] | [member="The Major"] ​

 

[Samka Derith]

Contempt might not be the right word to describe the feelings she got from the man in front of as she spoke of her duties and pledges but it was something close to it. To him, it was something to ridicule. She could lecture him on how her legacy would be billions of sentient united under one rule for the common good while his would be dust. When the annuals of history are written, nobody will make note of parties and pleasures. But she didn't mention it, she didn't think he'd care much and neither did she care to bring him out of it. Instead she remained smiling politely, even kindly.

"I wouldn't believe you," she replied equally as flat. "But I'm sure I can work out the details," she continued talking in her pleasant tone, all the while she considered how to break his mind and extract what she wanted before quickly deciding her methods would be too painful. Passing curiosities weren't worth making enemies over. Although the explicit flirting made her more tempted.

"Hmm," she paused for a few seconds as the host asked his question. Her gaze cast over the dancers for a moment, feigning interest in their activities as she considered her approach. It wasn't a secret, exactly. Her name wasn't an important link to anything. But dissatisfaction in his own evasiveness got the better of her.

"Sam." She answered simply. The rest he'd have to work out for himself.

"And your name would be?~" His own question returned in a sing-song voice from the young Ren.

"Hello, Miss Derith and..."

Another figure joined them.

Samka cringed. In three words her entire self-presentation had been swept away from her.

"I am charmed, Vereshin," her voice oozed of bitter venom but it seemed in his current state, woman in his arms, highs in his system, the Sith may not pick up on her tone.

It only got worse as the man continued, giving a vague explanation of her rank and prominence inside the First Order. Thankfully he had skipped over the finer details.

For the first time of the night, Samka grabbed a drink of spirit from a tray at her side. With her prized mystique which she had hoped to hold over the host so mercilessly stripped away from her, perhaps she'd end up needing that drink after all.

[member="The Slave"] | @Vereshin

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“Sam, aye?”, he said with a twinkle in his eye before Vereshin approached and decimated whatever enigmatic mystique she had hoped to create.

So much for the presentation it seemed, he even explained who she was past her name; a quick glance into their rank and prominence within her order. All things The Slave was interested in, but wasting the time on the questions would’ve been annoying compared to how it actually seemed to turn out. A coy grin fell upon his lips, glancing from Samka in a knowingly teasing manner to Vereshin;

“A pleasure as always, Vereshin.”, he said with a jubilant tone.

“And to answer both your questions; I don’t have one, though I’ve been called by many.”

“Tai, John, Dorian-”, he said as he let his voice trail off, “Honestly, it doesn’t matter.”

He finished speaking for the moment with a careless wave of his hand, dismissing the importance of a name directly after finding pleasure in finding out the name of another. With a faintly impressed glance to Samka stealing a drink from one of the trays near them; he turned his attention to both Vereshin and his guest.

“Be careful, friend. What's in the air doesn’t help you make the best choices; just so you know.”, with a wink he turned to Samka to speak as well;

“And Samka-”, he said bringing some emphasis to her name as if to rub it in only slightly more, “- What about serving The First Order entices you so much? I understand compliance, but I want your answer.”

[member="Samka Derith"] │ [member="Vereshin"] │ [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Ishana Pavanos]

T E C H N I C O L O R B E A T​

Dance with me.

As if she had to ask, her wife's voice trickled at the tops of her ear and sent a shiver all the way down the Balmorran's spine. Captivated by the warm breath and ignited by the pheromones, Ishana was glad for one thing. Experience, experience as a former cantina dancer had taught her system to adjust to them just as she had adjusted to a once toxic Balmorran atmosphere during the great chemical leak between the fighting years. Ishana looked up into the pair of raven green eyes that belonged to her wife.

The rapid beat of the music added to her intoxication, music, pheromones, alcohol and it was all a typical high. The uberclub was certainly pulling out all the stops but once more. Experience would guide the older woman as she moved her body with that her wife's. And as her body lifted weightless along the zero-g dance floor, her arm pulled the taller of the two along with. A careful touch of her hand, caressing the Kro Varian's cheek, "ya hayati, habibti." A single Balmorran phrase, my life, my love, my beloved. Used only when one deeply cared for another, and it was a phrase often heard around the Pavanos household whilst Ishana was growing up.

And it would be a phrase uttered in her household once more. She laid there, floating in the air, with the beat of the music dropping. Puncuating every move and touch, as if orchestrated like a conductor to his symphony. Her body moved in time, the dancer emerged from within Ishana as she took her wife by the hands and pulled her closer.

[member="Kaalia Voldaren"]​

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Pom nodded to the group as she was introduced by Vereshin. She was quite impressed with hearing the name of Ren. Even among the Dathomiri, the Ren stood for order, and order brings about the illusion of peace to the galaxy. She nodded to [member=Samka Derith] who seemed too into their host to acknowledge [member=Vereshin]'s greeting. It was obvious to Pom that she and Vereshin were interrupting something between Samka and their host.

What happened next she had not earned and therefore she is not certain how to take it, but it certainly sounded like her host [member=the slave] took one look at her and without returning the introduction, insulted her, by telling Vereshin who had his arm around her, that the pheromones they were enjoying will cause him to make bad choices.

Pom Stych Tivé recoiled abruptly, her expression instantly sobered. She had enough of this fun already.

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

A parting of strangers finally allowed for Jorryn's heeled boots to land softly on the ground, the increase in gravity again weighing down on her shoulders. Her arms stretched forward lightly pressuring the men and women in front of her to the side, making her way towards one of the illuminated bars. The inviting glow of the lights led Jorryn quickly through the crowd, her golden eyes fixed towards the strobing colours that bathed the people around her.

Her outstretched arms finally began to feel free air as the crowd had become more disperse away from the dance floor, dropping back to her side as her destination became clearly visible. Jorryn's hazy eyes quickly found the girl that she had come off the dance floor looking for, the deep brown haired woman sitting at the bar in front of her. Her hands pulled silver strands of hair behind her shoulders as she made her way towards the girl she had spoken to earlier, closer distance bringing into light a figure she had been talking to.

As Jorryn got closer to the brunette, she better make out the figure that the girl had been conversing with. Red hair peaked out from beneath an adorned brimmed hat, round glasses reflecting the strafing lights as they ran their way across the club. Jorryn's examination of the stranger quickly brought her gaze towards the extended leg of the woman, an amused grin came across the Sith's face as she guessed how the redhead had gotten the stranger's attention.

The pheromones continued to work their way into Jorryn's system as she kept her gaze on the pair of women as the bartender gave his attention to the Sith, setting aside a glass before resting his hands on the counter waiting for her order. Jorryn's eyes stayed fixed on the bartender as she motioned for the man to bring her the same drink as the brunette seated beside her, a nod of acknowledgement came from the man behind the counter as the Echani's eyes turned back towards the pair seated next to her.

Jorryn stayed leaning forwards as she crossed her arms against the top of the counter, resting herself on them as she waited for her drink to come. Her crimson eyes stayed affixed on the two girls next to her as they began to exchange introductions with each other, listening in on their intoxicated exchanging of words with each other.

The drink arrived with a feeling of disappointment and amusement as the stranger revealed her name to the woman seated next to her, an entertained grin coming across her face as she touched the drink to her crimson lips. I was hoping I could coax that information from her, The Sith thought to herself as she gently began to sip some of the unidentified drink, the strong taste of alcohol tickling her sense.

Her slim fingers slowly guided the glass back down onto the counter top as the Sith finally turned her head to face the company beside her, Zeltros pheromones hurrying her inclusion in the converstaion.

"And I was just coming to find you and give you my name first." The Echani chimed in teasingly as she pulled her scarf loose around her collar, the bright red material offsetting her silver hair.

[member="Mishel Zanteres"] | [member="The Major"]​

 

[Vereshin]

Vereshin swallowed in contemplation as Samka grabbed the drink from the table, wondering idly whether he had said something wrong. She addressed him in a tone which sounded almost like sarcasm, to which he raised a finger innocently in preparation to respond before lowering his wrist and holding back his words. The atmosphere grew even more tense when the Slave made a comment regarding the pheromones causing Vereshin to make bad choices. With Pom by his side, the timing appeared unfortunate. The Sith slid a finger into his collar and pulled away from his neck as he tried to find his breath. He felt the woman's shoulders stiffen in his arms and he only assumed Pom believed The Slave referred to her specifically as a bad choice he had made.

Women were a mystery to him.

"I assure you, friend, I have made only the right choice." The sorcerer reached over to the table to down the rest of his vodka and inhaled deeply on the cigarette, discarding of the remainder in the shot glass. His lips parted in a smile towards the Slave a chortle accompanied his words. The glare in Samka's eyes met his own and Vereshin held his breath, gently rubbing his hand up and down Pom's arm in a comforting gesture. He did not understand her offence towards what was a general comment. "I shall leave you to your conversation, we have many faces to meet." He smiled towards Samka and the Slave once more, before ushering Pom away to the dance floor.

"It was only banter, he did not intend to demean you." He held her hand and lead her towards a secluded corner beneath a dim mirage of light. A fast paced song of a deep mood began to play as he placed one hand on her shoulder and one around her waist. "Do not let it spoil your night." Speaking softly, he pulled her closer to his chest and gently swayed back and forward to the music, while stroking his hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. Her head leaned against his collarbone and he caressed her fingers in his other hand. As they danced, Pom moved back and forth from his shape, bringing her face close to his before moving away and then returning to sway along with the rhythm of the song. Vereshin truly had no desire to speak to anybody else, he wished to only spend the night with her.

[member="The Slave"], [member="Samka Derith"], [member="Pom Stych Tivé"]

 

[Samka Derith]

'Don't have one.'

The host's response repeated in her head. This question for a question game was no longer looking as fair as it started out as. Circumstances had given her a very bad hand indeed. The temptation to walk away was there but she needed to redeem herself, her pride would allow no other solution.

She drank, pretending not to notice the changing atmosphere between [member="Vereshin"] and [member="Pom Stych Tivé"], withholding a playful smirk as she did so. Whether the host's remarks were intended to cause upset for his own amusement, she wasn't sure, but it certainly amused her.

At least until it was pointed back at her.

Samka bit the side of her cheek in displeasure but adjusted her seat, leaning forwards to show the man her full attention. "I'd imagine that it's a bore to a man like you but it's very simple." She stirred her drink as she spoke. "We provide stability, a good quality of life. We allow the arts and culture to flourish. So it's all about helping people. I'm a very caring person, you see."

She took another sip of spirit, noting already she'd drank half the glass.

"And here's my question to you, boy." If he wouldn't give her a name, she'd have to make one for herself. A dark shadow seemed to fall over her child-like face, "How many people have you killed?"

[member="The Slave"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave didn’t offer either Vereshin or his date a goodbye, only a cruel grin and a passive glance. It still wasn’t known whether he said what he said on purpose or not, but his almost knowing glance seemed to imply a demeaning game he was playing at. In truth, it didn’t matter; he hadn’t invited them over, and his malignant ego was something of an illness to the relatively inexperienced Acolyte.

Still, as his gaze came back to the progressively annoyed Samka, he could tell she was getting bothered by his answers. Far sooner than he hoped, but the game they were playing was exactly that; to find out as much of the other while giving out as little as possible. Or so it seemed.

In truth, The Slave didn’t care what she knew about him. To him, it wouldn’t make a difference, but what he would learn about her meant something to him. For whatever reason, he couldn’t tell, but it was something about her lack of a smile, the way her molten eyes dripped with hate, down to the very way she sauntered onto his boat with every intention to kill.

It tickled his curiosity. Leave alone the attractive features.

As she said the word boy, his grin grew and he offered her a quick wink. Something about the venom she said it with only made him more jubilant, far from her intention.

“You’re really asking the wrong questions here, Samka.”, he began to chuckle.

“How many times have you blinked today? Why would you count, right? You know as well as I do that our profession doesn’t allow the luxury of remembering.”

“So to answer your question, I don’t know.”, he said with the same cruelty he had offered the two recently departed.

“Here’s a better question, what do you think are the right questions to ask?”

[member="Samka Derith"]

 

[Samka Derith]

"On the contrary," Samka slow blinked and offered a charming smile, "I'm learning what I need to."

She'd never expected a straight answer, of course he wouldn't remember if he was anything like she had assumed. She had stopped counting after the first couple of dozen bodies piled up. It was how he'd respond to the question that was of interest, not a vague number. Bringing up the concept of killing brought a cruelty to the surface that he appeared to delight in. No regret, no avoidance of the subject.

She didn't need a name to judge a soul.

She held up a hand to shush the man as he drew to a close. "I believe that was three questions. We agreed one each so I'll take the first one and say it must be around 21,000 times I've blinked today. The others you can ask later," a slightly smug look on her face as she reestablished some semblance of control.

"Alright then, boy, what is your profession?" She asked, alluding to what he had hinted earlier.

[member="The Slave"]

 

[The Major]

Below such gripping conversation.​

...A bar amongst the dozens that sprawled about this testament to excess...​

Such fortune, if even brief and fleeting forevermore. The Ren took a little of the bait and played along -all to the whooping thumps of lung shoving bass. Wonderful. Anticipation bubbled in the Major’s chest as she awaited more of those syllables from this magnificent specimen of everything the Order could achieve. Her accent implied a more rigorous education than most of the hum-drum that was to expected in a place like this; the forward and unabashed staring from the Ren showed focus and hinted at a nature unrelenting. Naturally, all this combined with her quickly speaking did wonders for the hazel eyed dynamo’s first impression.

"I am Mishel Zanteres, University of Avalonia."

The gothic, morbid laced inclined woman could marr this moment with schemes or immediately running a fortnight’s worth of network checks that would filter discreetly through her dataglasses. Every bit of information could be gleaned, picked apart, and discarded as though all people could be manipulated like the garbage matter they all became in the end. Why? Why ruin the simplicity of this moment, this conversation. One thing that piqued the Fallanassi’s interest was the bit about being a student. Fascinating cover. She was aware that her organization roped in force sensitives as early as possible. So many questions flickered through her mind, and flashes of terror and pain clicked like a sequence of broken images. The training of the knights was a closely guarded secret, even kept hidden from nosey Security Bureau agents like the auburn haired one watching Mishel with pleased eyes. Rumored to be brutal, the Major couldn’t help but stop and fantasize about this very woman standing before her wracked in the ancient and draconian methods that were consistently gossiped about by those not privy to that group of foster siblings. Nay, not fantasize; empathize.

A warm smile crossed her otherwise placid features. On the cusp of moving closer to the student and answering the million credit question, a bolt pierced their momentary veil in the form of a voice.

"And I was just coming to find you and give you my name first."

Clearly, Mishel wasn’t only spouting a line before. She really did manage to procure the curiosity of strangers, and possibly upon the turn of a coin. Normally, the Major would regard the Echani with such an air of annoyance that you might call it a thought crime. Who was this interloper? How dare she? So on and so forth. It was her lucky night: it gave the bespectacled aristocrat another chance at watching the Ren perform in her chosen habitat.

The Major touched the brim of her feathered top hat with a flourish of those white gloved hands.

“Be it far from me to stand in the way of your queue. Have at it, Silversun.”

And with that she straightened herself up, downed her bubbly red drink and motioned for a refill, momentarily turning away from the Echani and the Avalonian student.

[member="Jorryn Fordyce"] [member="Mishel Zanteres"]​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

She had used his answer against him, an interesting ploy considering he was the one that made the rules for their little game. A grin swept over his expression instead of offering any rebuttle to her stylish answer, letting her move about her next few questions unimposed. She’d earned it, at the very least.

“Tool.”, he offered back simply. Perhaps the most direct answer he’d given all night.

“I do what must be done, just like you.”

He offered her another wink before moving to drink from his pink swirled concoction next to him; one that smelled of exotic berries and by appearance alone likely cost more than a month's salary for the convention First Order Officer. A glimpse into the decadence he held, but enough of one to show that ‘Tool’ wasn’t entirely correct. The Slave himself was somewhere in between rewarding her for playing along, or continuing to be difficult; something he was sure she knew.

“Do you enjoy sunsets, Samka? I certainly do.”, his voice taking on the faintly light qualities of someone mixed between teasing and knowing prying. His question seemed to ignore any tension in the air; letting her comments fall around like a breeze while he simply inquired into her preferences on the moving of the sun.

It was hard to tell if he was actually invested in the game they played, or just a man who worried more about the frivolities of someone enjoying the party or not. Despite the way he posed his question, it was still easy to surmise the prior; with whatever he seemed to be playing at.

[member="Samka Derith"]

 

[Kaalia Pavanos]

Kaalia let her dancing partner take the lead as they floated in zero-g. Simply moving in tandem with Ishana took over her senses completely, everything that happened around them didn't seem to exist to her. They were in their own little bubble with nothing that could burst it, and if she could she would remain there forever. The memories of loneliness, desperation to be accepted, and desires to have a place to call home slowly faded out of her mind. They meant nothing to her anymore, her past was nothing more but just that. It was no longer reality, a life she no longer lived. As long as her wife with her, she had everything she needed.

As the redhead was pulled closer she honed in on where her body was in contact with Ishana's, her wife's touch combined with the pheromones set off a wildfire within her. How the brunette was able to enchant her and disarm her was a mystery, yet she did it every waking moment she was with her. Not a trace of the Sith Darth Avacyn was present in her being, her uncorrupted gaze lost in the maze that were Ishana's brown eyes. The Force allowed Kaalia to do the most incredible things, attain power previously beyond her imagination, but that all paled in comparision to the woman she was dancing with. If she would have had to choose between Ishana or her ability to command the Force it would always be the first, life simply wouldn't be as rich and colorful without her beloved. For her she would sacrifice everything if necessary, nothing meant more to her than her wife.

Almost instinctively she followed Ishana's motions, yet there was an air of grace to it. Perhaps she did not have a lot of experience, let alone in zero-g, but with Ishana's lead it was barely noticeable. The place where her hand touched her cheek felt like it was on fire, but it was a feeling she didn't want to disappear. While they danced the redhead was silent, almost like she was hypnotized but her eyes said more than a thousand words, and they showed want, want for everything Ishana was.

[member="Ishana Pavanos-Voldaren"]

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

Sith men receive all the training the galaxy has to offer, and still not many of them have learned to possess the intuition of a woman. Why the heck is that?! Pomst was not one to miss the subtle nuances, as her servants of the ethereal realm enhance her perceptions. She did not need to see glances exchanged by their host behind [member=Vereshin]'s back to be sure of her impressions.

Pomst had brought a gift for her host [member=The Slave], but she decided against presenting it to him the manner she originally intended. She placed her hand over the pocket of her shaw and while Vereshin danced her around, she thought of a better scenario that would play out.

“Vereshin,” she said, her lips wispy over his ear, as she held onto him in return. “Surely you realize your in a class above this?” So far Pomst has only met the Lords of the Sith, and found them to be far above the mental games among the lower ranks. Her opinion of the Sith underclassmen tarnished tonight. “I cannot believe that anyone who is to become a leader of the Empire, should be found in such company. You know my Grandparents, both Lords, would disapprove you engaging in this particular type of rivalry.” She felt just being present could effect his future.

Pomst took Vereshin's arm and she strolled with him out of the nightclub, back to the hangar to Vereshin's readied ship.

Back in the nightclub, on the buffet table where all the succulent desserts drew a large gluttonous crowd, was displayed a small decorative box of chocolate truffles. There were made special by a particular Nightsister, enchanted with a strong ancient Love Potion, which was specifically designed to draw anyone who partook of the delight, to immediately lust after the host of the party. But rather than let the host decide who to give them to, Pom Stych Tivé preferred to let the devotees be picked at random; and partake of the delicacy, they did!

The Nightsister had a satisfactory smile on her face back in Vereshin's ship, as he ignited the thrusters and together they headed for their next adventure. They would have plenty of time for her to tell him what she did back there.

//EXIT//

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Mishel's eyes zeroed in on the mysterious gothic red as her ears picked up on the other woman's voice. She did not turn her gaze right away, instead her gaze lingered a moment too long on the redhead. Slowly she turned to focus on the woman she met earlier in the evening. The music seemed to drown away, it nulled her senses just as the drugs that floated within the atmosphere make her mind slow to react. "And now that you have it," she replied in a low whisper. She pushed herself away from the bar, her head canted to the side with a playful, almost absent smile, and the she walked around [member="Jorryn Fordyce"].

The Tygaran leaned against the bar, her eyes once more made for the redhead. If only briefly before she whispered with the warmth of her breath against the Echani's skin. "What do you intend to do?" Mishel pulled away once more, and looked over her shoulder into the crowd and then up as those above them partied the night away. Her arm outstretched as her hands moved into a come hither motion. The pulsating lights and the vibrato of the sounds pounded away against anything that she may have had left to hold onto. Mishel by this point was gone, and there was a dangerous possibility that Meszrouz could take over. A stronger, more violent personality when compared to the naviete of the eighteen-year-old that most knew.

Mishel's mind danced with the possibilities with her gothic friend of whom she knew not the name of, but kept in her mind. Even as she enticed the Echani toward her, who was she to turn down a good time? No one. Ren were scarcely afforded the opportunity to pleasure themselves, let alone engage in the debauchery that had been offered on that night. And it was always said that Mishel knew how to have a good time.

[member="The Major"]​