The Emperor's Ball

[Vestille Thumahra]

Vestille Thumahra​

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Blakeslee Falls Estate, Galdiraan​

Accompanied By: [member="Kylea Varjo"] | Interacting With: [member="Darth Maliphant"], [member="Nilia Saavilin"], [member="Vaylin"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"], [member="Taeli Raaf"]​

Objective: Survive.​

​

If he had his way, everyone would have a concealed blaster on their person.

It would have certainly made for a more comforting evening.

The General had nodded firmly to Admiral Yvarro's offer of a meeting later on on Bastion, no doubt to discuss military matters and the bridge that remained solidly placed between Legion and Armada alike and how the relationship between the ground and air forces could be extended. That was only guess and Vestille wasn't the greatest when it came to people reading; besides interrogations and able to read between the lines when it came to such matters but-- It felt as if this very event was his interrogation, his very own stint of torture. Vestille's voice eventually came through; "Of course, Admiral. Simply provide me with the dates as to when and directions of where and I shall be there-- Provided the ceaseless work of the Legion allows such visit." at least that avenue was covered as the General soon turned to the lady upon the Admiral's arm, the name striking more than several bells in regards whom the identity belonged to; "Lady Raaf, I am honored by your presence, my Lord. Your words are appreciated." the words were genuine, professional; as a matter of fact everything he said sounded as if he had rehearsed every syllable and constructed every sentence months before the ball had even been drawn up; it certainly brought the idea forward that the General was not a social man. Not by a long shot.

Deep within his mind, he could hear the beast snickering away in delight as Vestille had no choice but to go deeper down into the social rabbit hole that he found himself crawling through. It didn't seem to want to release itself nor did it want to cause mayhem and bloodshed-- Tonight, it would get the easy meal of torment by watching its partner be trapped in a situation that took his mind around the bend and open up to new ideas and repressed thoughts that, if the General had his way, would have stayed buried. Alas, there he was, a beast among men, drinking champagne and watching in horror as the shutters he had reinforced and never saw fit to raise crept upwards and allowed himself to be the one thing he had left to die-- Human. Behind all that armor and doctrine was a man that had thrown himself through the mud, blood and fire of war, allowing it to mutate and taint what could have been a man into a beast of war. The demon inside would not have existed had he not walked down the path that saw to the rise and fall of Empires and the lives and deaths of friends and enemies. Perhaps this was some strange form of karma, the powers that be delivering unto him the misery and destruction of himself in payment of all that which had been destroyed by his hand. No friends, just allies. No rivals, just an enemy that was to be destroyed no matter the cost.

Perhaps the only true enemy was himself?

That thought was quickly brought to pass as the Admiral and Lady Raaf eventually took their leave, no doubt to dabble with the other guests, dance and be merry-- Not without Lady Raaf leaning in and whispering to Vestille, mentioning the monster to him directly. His blood froze over as the demon allowed itself to flare like an animal would perk up an ear upon hearing its name. Many had remained silent about Vestille's predicament, namely the men under his Command; keeping absolutely silent whenever their Commanding Officer was in earshot. It had become something of an urban legend that spread among the Legion with several variations of the tale; many no doubt assumed it to be a very entertaining story to be told during those long nights on duty. Vestille had no time to respond properly, by the time he had regained control of his internal processing Ladt Raaf and the Admiral were long since gone. It was a bittersweet feeling, in a sense; someone had offered to help him control it, harness its powers for his use rather than allowing it to fester and continue the internal war that had the General's mental state hanging by a thread but--

The appointments were surely adding up.

Returning to his position leaning against the architecture and taking a swig of the champagne rather than a polite sip, a deep inhale and exhale followed. It seemed the longer that he remained here the deeper the nails of the coffin were hammered in. Perhaps his only solace in the hours that were to follow came not a moment too soon; Lieutenant Varjo. They had met briefly one time or another, during times of lower rank and secrets that had remained under wraps. Upon her announcement of her arrival by her voice, Vestille looked over and gave her a firm nod but this time, he would not fall back upon the demeanor of rehearsed words and diplomacy-- Perhaps it was the fact that she herself was nervous and didn't feel comfortable during this whole event that gave him the belief that if there were anyone he could be honest with and drop the facade, it was her; "I remember, Lieutenant. You don't need to congratulate me, was just doing my duty but-- Thanks." the words came as dry as the desert as he'd tip his head back and downed the last of the champagne that was in his glass before placing it down; "Care for a drink?"

The answer would no doubt have to wait, yes or no the General managed to get a glimpse of the woman he had seen earlier; the potential former member of the Sovereignty that hid among the Sith, similar to how he had done so. She was close to Darth Maliphant it seemed, an easy opening to get the chance to speak with her. He had questions that, in his mind, she no doubt had the answers to. As he spotted the servant making his rounds again, he saw his opportunity-- He stood up and looked towards the Lieutenant that stood by his side, a glint of opportunity found within his otherwise neutral and cold eyes; "If you wish to accompany me, there's someone I need to meet. A potential drink, as well."

His people skills were non-existent in a setting like this but with that absence, there was nothing more than military precision. Maybe that counted for something. Nonetheless, he made his way towards Darth Maliphant, the woman by his side and the Zabrak through the crowds. Infiltration, adaption, survival. Treat this as it were a military operation and he figured he'd survive.

Survive the music, dancing, drinking and talking.

 

[The Major]

Galidraan
Blakeslee Falls Estate
Undisclosed Hour, 853 ABY
Interacting With: [member="Tez Bola"]
Morale: Neutral
Outfit (or outfits if you will): Link

The Major’s bare hand reached out towards the greeter, handing the young man a red invitation on behalf of the Sith Empire. She declared formally that the more visually appealing woman to her right was her guest, and the polite and glorified guard stepped aside with a bit of Galidraan’s renowned charm, causing the good Major to return the gesture with a small bow. A light security checkpoint scanned them in and access was granted.

And so the two stepped across the threshold and past the congregation which always choked up such entrances before stopping at the primary area of the main floor. Throngs of people milled about and between one another, each puffed up and polished to a sheen of excellence that gave the Major a distinct impression of a galaxy being set the way it simply should. Almost instantaneously the tall Almanian woman had to resist fidgeting or slinking away into a corner. She felt exposed, and it was not so much a social phobia as it was gallivanting about in this black silk dress that was her Partner in Crime’s fault. It shimmered, it flowed, and it somehow always gave her the impression it was loose. The straps which flowed from the deep v plunge of her dress and up her shoulders felt like they could be a convenient place for an attacker to grab and pull. Conditioned air wafted past her exposed toes, and the strappy high heels only exacerbated her height among those in the crowd. At least, mercifully, most of the forces of the Sith Empire underwent some sort of augmentation which produced products both large and tall. Yet still, she hated this slinky exposure. Where were her thick leather gloves, huge steel tipped boots, tailored blouse and armored vest, her thick dataglasses, or the wool phrik plated greatcoat? All had been laid aside because a certain other person thought it would be a great idea to dress this way in order to get into with some illusive mindset called femininity.

“...”​

So it was that the acting Director of the First Order Security Bureau felt not so secure.​

Even bothering to wear lipstick, this one bright and red, was something outside of normalcy for the Major. As usual with most humans, when doing something out of the ordinary they suddenly developed the cruel habit of picking at the new thing: in this case Sybil contended with not licking her lips, which Tez informed her she had a done a few times on the way here, causing the Almanian hunter to have to reapply the work.

Performed music worked its charm and the Fallanassi could at least appreciate the fact that not a lot of trance bass was thumping away at her ears, or more accurately eating away at her brain. Frankly, with the amount of guests present and most of the evening still quite a long way from wrapping up the options for their invasion into this space were nigh limitless. Focusing on that and not how her contacts stung her eyes ever so slightly, the Major turned to Tez and waved a hand across the space in front of them.

“So here we are amongst the galaxy’s. . . finest. Need a drink?”​

 

[H3xle]

LOCATION: The Emperor's Ball
OBJECTIVE: Don't Die
ALLIES: [member="vestille thumahra"]? Who is interacting with [member="darth maliphant"], [member="nilia saavilin"], [member="vaylin"], [member="fiolette yvarro"] and [member="taeli raaf"]
ENEMY: Socializing

"I remember, Lieutenant. You don't need to congratulate me, was just doing my duty but-- Thanks." the words came as dry as the desert as he'd tip his head back and downed the last of the champagne that was in his glass before placing it down; "Care for a drink?"

"What I was always taught was that people see the concept of duty differently. Some just see the minimum of their duty and do it, others see their duty encompassing far more, and strive to do it. The latter is who we commend, and the former clean the head." She chuckled awkwardly, remembering her mothers words. She relaxed slightly, as the conversation was on somewhat familiar grounds.

"If you wish to accompany me, there's someone I need to meet. A potential drink, as well."

"A drink would do. I'll stick with you, no reason to fly alone." She replied, putting a smile on that was only partially forced. Whether she was referring to herself flying alone or Vestille, even she wasn't entirely certain. "If you need a quick exit, just remind me that we need to speak with the Director. That was always my fathers go to out."

She flushed slightly at the offer, but knew that if her companion needed to get away from a conversation, she likely wasn't going to see it naturally. She could pick out a stealth X-Wing on a scanner from the slight heating of an area of space seven times out of ten, but seeing anything but the most obvious of social cues wasn't within her ability, and she knew it.

 

[Vaylin]

Location: Galidraan, Blakeslee Falls Estate - Ballroom | Second Floor
With: [member="Darth Maliphant"] | [member="Nilia Saavilin"] | [member="Mythos"] | [member="Mara Rockwell"]

Vaylin had approached this knowing something was off, but was still surprised at the reaction she got. There was none of his usual habits, nothing of what he was like during their previous encounters; the non-hostile ones anyway.

Not a single one.

She was sure he even shifted away from her touch. Which wasn't exactly surprising if she was a stranger to him, but it struck her as incredibly odd given the person she knew always tended to be handsy before.

Their little scuffle on Zeltros had been evidence of that.

Oh, she had a little enigma standing before her, didn't she?

The Zabrak was still holding her drink, untouched as she stared down the mystery that was Maliphant. She raised an eyebrow when he finally spoke, confirming for definite; in Vaylin's eyes, that he truly didn't recognize her.

If she wasn't standing before him, Vaylin would've figured she had mistaken his identity. But she was certain it was Slave...and not him at the same time.

New mind, but same shell perhaps?

But then again, she had little knowledge of what happened between Dubrillion and now.

Speculation whirled around in Vaylin's mind for a moment, silently debating whether she should bring up previous encounters; Technicolor Beat...Club Blush. But the Zabrak decided against it, instead taking a sip of her drink finally.

"My apologies, I must have been mistaking you for someone else." For a moment she went to raise her hand, to go for a handshake, but recalled his initial aversion to being touched. "I'm Vaylin, I don't think I've seen either of you around before."

It seemed as though the Valkyrie was going to need to do a little bit of digging after tonight. The thought was interrupted though when a new duo suddenly arrived. Neither of which she particularly recognized, aside from the fact they had made a rather loud entrance earlier.

 

[Irella Toldreyn]

The Outer Rim, Galidraan, Blakeslee Falls Estate, The Ballroom, Unspecified Time
Outsider | Interacting with [member="Ronan Vizsla"] | [member="Koda Fett"], [member="Tamara Wren"], [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Briika Munin"], [member="Preliat Mantis"], [member="Darth Carnifex"] ~ Hushh ~ "I'm not sorry for what will come, what you don't know."
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It might have been a bad idea to laugh at a mad dog, but Irella had to raise a beskar-coated hand to her mouth to hide a smile upon seeing Ronan's reaction to his fancy stiff drink. The obscuring hand was quickly replaced with her own glass, she didn't seem to mind the taste as much as he did, but, then again, her and her new Alor were distinctly different people. Even being reared on the Smuggler's Moon, she could still appreciate finer things in life.

Those differences, though, became starkly aware to the former Jedi Padawan when a long, cold shiver crossed down her back. A chill. She was primarily facing Ronan but did not want to have to turn the rest of the way and look, acknowledge what she suspected; that a Dark Lord's twisting eyes had fallen in her general direction. Probably not at her, per se, but nearby. Maybe to Ronan. He'd been invited, after all, so he must have had some connections. How high did they do? Did she even want to know? Decidedly, not. After tonight, Irella Toldreyn truly was dead, as were her morals. The engima of a Vizsla to rise in it's place.

"I'm not sure if it's worth a return, considering what we put it through," The new Mandalorian replied a little hesitantly, slowly, choosing her words carefully, "But you're right. There was less..." The blonde trailed off, biting the inside flesh of her cheek briefly before finishing.

"...Political simpering." If there was one thing they seemed to have in common, it was a dislike for the braying and bleating that often came with events such as tonight. The bowing, the too-polite smiles, the false agendas. How many people here were truly so honest?

Quick to drink again and definitively turn her back to the Dark Lord, more properly facing Ronan, she decided that continuing this path of conversation, their past, "At least it'd be good and reliable stress relief."

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Evening Wear Attire

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Galidraan, Blakeslee Falls Estate

Currently In: The Ballroom, second floor, near the bar.
Interacting With: [member="Nilia Saavilin"] │ [member="Vestille Thumahra"] │ [member="Vaylin"] │ [member="Mara [/FONT][FONT='courier new']Rockwell[/FONT][FONT='courier new']"] │ [member="Mythos"]
___________________________________________

Before the small crowd could form around Maliphant, his apprentice, and the Zabrak, he cocked a brow and looked her over curiously; though his expression certainly showed no signs of pretending, and after her initial greet he seem to lose a portion of his aversion, simply nodding before speaking himself;

“I’m Darth Maliphant, and this is my apprentice, Nilia Saavilin. We live here on Bastion, though don’t appear at many larger scale events. First time I’ve been invited, you see.”, he said with a quiet upturn of his tone, as though the last part amused him.

Maliphant glanced to his apprentice, to ensure she wasn’t too hostile in the eyes as he had at the sudden intrusion, but wouldn’t stop her for the moment. If she truly found a reason to be hostile, he only hoped she could back it up; always a learning experience no matter where they were. Instead however, he turned back up at the additional greet of the Sith Lord known as Mythos; one he had met on Muun, though at the time he was considerably less intoxicated.

“A pleasure, Mara.”, The Sith said with a gentle smile directed as the Chiss, “I see you’ve chosen yourself a great companion.”

Was that snark? It was hard to tell when it came to Maliphant, many of the things he said could be taken in a number of directions, and calling it out would make the accuser the worse off of the two, though this at the very least seemed less of a jab than anything else. Still, his attention to the new group lasted only a moment before he noticed Vestille making his way to the five, motioning him over with a hand;

“Come, Vestille, join our happy circle. My apprentice wanted to meet you.”, he said with an almost intentional attempt to embarrass his companion.

 

[Tez Bola]

Galidraan
Blakeslee Falls Estate
Interacting With: [member="The Major"]
Status: Trepidatious

Tez Bola the Inexperienced looked around the entrance hall in wide eyed wonder. Never before had she seen such grandiose opulence nor this many elegantly adorned people. For a flitting moment she felt as if she horribly stood out in comparison to all the lords and ladies though she tried her best to blend in. Her dress was carefully chosen for its hues- it was a calf length muted red number with a row of buttons that went down the front side along her left hip. The dress also had a striped white frill accent along the neckline and held up against her body with slim white straps. Upon her feet were open toed red and white heels (what other opportunity would she have to wear them?), where her blood colored lacquered toes could be seen by anyone that happened to be glancing downwards. Her hair, which she normally wore down in its natural state, was pulled back and parted, arranged in a neat bun. After several moments of silent observation she realized that she wasn’t a fleck on anyone’s radar and gradually became less tense.

It would be a lie to say that Tez didn’t feel almost entirely out of her element. She was, at the moment, officially bereft of a nation and held no real loyalties to any one group. To be surrounded by so many powerful people from numerous different factions and walks of life made her entirely grateful for the woman on her side and the training she had received under her tutelage. When [member="The Major"] (the person who her loyalties truly belonged to), invited her to this event she initially assumed it was a sly ploy of potential recruitment. To have her bask in the pleasures of decadence and interact with all the powerful people within the First Order and their allies would surely be tempting to cross the line from “observer” to “player.” However, upon seeing her over-towering companion’s apparent discomfort, all conspiratorial thought vanished into the ether.

“No, I don’t need a drink,” Tez answered sardonically. “I need several. Ah!” A conveniently timed server walked past with an ornate silver tray with crystal goblets of vintage red wine. Tez took the liberty of helping herself- one glass for each hand. “Grab one for yourself too, Sybil,” she suggested with a toothy grin and wink. Tez proceeded to drain the first glass and carefully placed it back on the serving tray a moment before the man walked away with a bemused face. “Now what?” she asked, continuing to look around. “See anyone worth talking to or should we continue lurking?”

 

[Jor Kvall]

The wary guest
who comes for a meal
is silent with strained hearing,
listens with ears
and examines with eyes;
so each of the wise searches about himself.

-House Kvall saying

Time passed, tea came, and terrible forebodings​

for the fair [member="Lady Kay"], fraught with sorrow.​

Dirge was aplenty, the doldrums of fate did bellow sourly​

for Jor as well, young Alor.​

He had his homeworld, but for how long?​

​

When called to speak, cautiously he did, his countenance​

might be met poorly here, the malevolence of the Empire​

permeated eyes, pierced ears, caught prattling tongues.​

[member="Krest"] the alien could not be known, yet Kay trusted him​

And so Jor settled, speaking finally.​

​

"Mand'alor means well, has fine policies. But her interloping with the Sith Empire can only end one way."​

 

[The Major]

Galidraan
Blakeslee Falls Estate
Undisclosed Hour, 853 ABY
Interacting With: [member="Tez Bola"]
Morale: Neutral

Watching her compeer grab a pair of drinks caused the obvious reaction of having Sybil reach for the spare, but then Tez quickly downed the contents of one and suggested that the Major should grab her own. Shocked by the sheer nerve of the act, she couldn’t help but smile a twisted smile at the timing. Looking somewhat like a hound which had lost its prized Nubian frisbee, the Fallanassi took her own glass which the waiter offered with a knowing, slight nod and a twinkling eye. Downing it just like her friend would have been choice, but a bit unseemly, and if she was going to be putting on airs of behaving like a proper lady, downing wine and spitting out flecks of the stuff in conversation would run contrary to the attempt. Sipping gently from the glass, the Major turned her gaze over the floor, looking for someone familiar to approach to get their evening started.

The honor of such careful consideration from a pair of slightly squinting, sharp eyes befell upon [member="Shoma Ike"], a lad who was engaged in a conversation not so far from their position.

“Let’s introduce ourselves to that young gentleman right over there,” she indicated with a subtle nod. “He’s the Prince of the Atrisian Commonwealth, and it is a wonderful, ancient land. We should take a trip there soon. Maybe you’ll make an impression upon him and we’ll get a chance to visit some of the old palaces thereupon. So no pressure.”

The Director flashed a pointed, wild, and wide animalistic grin before adopting a more placid, peaceful look. Of course, she grabbed Tez’s hand just long enough to drag her along in the right direction.

 

[Abel Forsworn]

With the amount of liquor already in his system, Abel was grateful for the clearly stated no. Giving the women another deep bow, he extricated himself from both empresses [member="Salara Zambrano"] and [member="Invicta Zambrano"] . Turning from the thrones his eyes fell on the form of the Sith Emperor, [member="Darth Carnifex"] as he made his way slowly through the room among his entourage.

Still wishing to go for a spin on the ballroom floor he snagged a rather large mug from a passing tray and frowned slightly as he dwelt on the words of the women. "Truly, although I know our husband loves to dance. There with the bright red Imperial uniform, the tall one with the shoulders. You may know of him, but he is such a treasure and we love him dearly."

As he drained the rather large vessel of some form of liquor he wondered at the words in his slightly inebriated state. It was a shame for someone to miss the chance to do something they loved right? And as he shared the same passion for dance then it seemed a match. Glancing back to the empresses he understood their words. They didn't want their husband, who was greatly treasured by them, to miss an opportunity to indulge in something he thoroughly enjoyed. And as a guest here it was his duty, no, his responsibility to offer his services to their gracious host.

Throwing back his shoulders he moved into the circle around the Emperor and have a low bow to great Lord. Straightening he looked up, and up, into the visage of the Sith Emperor. It was a strange sensation looking up to another, not one he was used to. Clearing his voice he spoke.

"Great Lord, Emperor Carnifex. Your wives were just mentioning that you have a passion for dance. As host to this great gathering it would be a tragedy if one wasn't to offer to be your partner on the floor so you can partake of a past time you so thoroughly enjoy. It would be my pleasure to serve you in this, great Lord."

With the liquid courage and abandon rushing through his veins he inclined his head once more as he offered to dance with the Sith. His blurry eyes took in the form of a mando'ad in beskar'gam and he clasped his shoulder, speaking to [member="Vilaz Munin"].

"Oya ner vod. Great times eh?"

Then he waited on the Sith Emperor's response to Abel's offer that Carnifex's wives had so generously and graciously pointed out.

 

[Tamara Wren]

She reached out a gauntleted hand, an offer to help him up-

Aaaaand retracted it again when he didn't take it. It was hard to stay annoyed when she'd just knocked someone to the ground when she hadn't meant to. If she'd meant to that'd be different.

Needing something, literally anything to do with her hands that wasn't stand there with the left one stuck out aimlessly like a loon, she reached up, unlocking the helmet and pulling it off. Maybe if she'd had it off she wouldn't have run into him to begin with, ugh Tam. A keen eyed observer might notice in the dark that the gauntlet on the right hand was custom made, the shape wrong. Perhaps it was easy to brush off as an affectation, something to frighten in battle or just some weird mandalorian thing.

Force knew there were a lot of those, easy to assume.

"At least it's not the marble inside?" She said, trying to make a joke. "Would have been much worse in there-" which fell entirely flat.

She reached up, scratching her hair awkwardly.

"I'm really sorry," she repeated, the chagrin clear on her face, where he couldn't have seen it the first time she said it. "I'll be more careful."

[member="Anden Fancelo"]

 

[Briika Munin]

Galidraan
Balkeslee Falls Estate
Ballroom - First Floor
w/[member="Vilaz Munin"]
Vode present [member="Ronan Vizsla"] [member="Irella Vizsla"] [member="Tamara Wren"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Preliat Mantis"]

​

[ A book you say, ner cyare? Well then, you better get your reading glasses out old man because I am a whole encyclopedia set with lots more to enjoy, something new to learn on every page. ]

Briika loved the easy going banter with her husband. It's how their relationship started while on a crusade together all those years ago when the Alor of Clan Munin was Mand'alor the Unyielding's Akaan; Ra's first reign as Sole Ruler. Those were the good 'ol days when one knew what it meant to be a Mandalorian, well in her opinion any way. Since then the Munin's love for each other had produced two children to add to their already blended family from previous marriage and adoption as well as an ever expanding clan.

[ Our beskar'gam has never made it awkward for anything else... And elek, I would like to meet the one who has your other ear from time to time. ]

As they approached the area in the ballroom where the Dark Lord of the Sith was enjoying the festivities so far, Briika could feel eyes of distain fall upon the Mandalorian couple adorned in their armor, or maybe it was who they were. If only these people could see her face hidden by her T-visor, the Tor-Munin did not care what they thought. The Baar'ur was proud to be on her riduur's arm portraying themselves as what they are wholeheartedly... Mando'ade.

Of course just as Briika was going to respond to Vilaz's kind introduction of her to [member="Darth Carnifex"], the Infernal's Warmaster had to butt in, delivering a barb at her husband's expense. Which then garnered a retort from the Concordian and Bree biting her lip to keep her own mouth shut during the exchange.

[member="Kaine Australis"] comment had been rude and out of order yet who was the one cautioned? Some things never change. It just gave more credence to the animosity felt against those who ruled and called Manda'yaim home nowadays. She referred to them as MINOs, but that was just her own personal musing during pillow talk.

[ Steady, Vil'ika... Let it go. Their time will indeed come, but it is not today. We are here to enjoy what is generously offered and the company of those we call allies. ] she conveyed in her wifey way over their encrypted private comms.

Briika turned her attention back to the Emperor when the interruptions were over, then gave a respectful cant of her helmeted head towards the Sith Lord even though she bristled at being called 'radiant'. Mandakarla women did not like to be told they are beautiful in any form. A good shot or skilled fighter yes, but the former could be taken as a belittlement. Today though, Briika would let it slid and be gracious as that is how it was meant.

[ Lord Carnifex... You are too kind. Vor entye. It is an honor to finally meet you and your kin. ] Bree replied in a thoughtful manner, giving an appreciative tilt of her buy'ce towards the ladies and others nearby as well.

 

[Valgærd]

We danced

In the garden of the Emperor’s estate, to the sound of the music as it was carried on the breeze. Our bodies moved in time, pressed together, arms around one another. This should have been a simple, romantic moment, right? A handsome man, a relatively pretty girl, swaying to the music amid the bouquet of the garden.

But the circumstances made our dance so much more than that.

I had noticed Julian, for all his easy confidence, appeared to not be the strongest dancer. I could have lost myself to the music regardless. My uncle hadn’t been the most capable either, yet he’d still taught me, standing on his feet, giggling as I learned to move with the music.

His voice brought me back from… it wasn’t quite a trance, but he brought me back regardless. I blushed at the rustling bushes, realising sort of for the first time that we weren’t the only two here.

“One day you’ll have to show me your style, Jul.” I replied softly, turning my gaze back to him.

At his question, I shrugged slightly,

“Secret for secret…” I began, subtly asking him to share his own as well, “… many things. Remembering where I learned to dance, wondering what your… style is… deciding whether or not to try and meet the emperor or simply take to the skies and flee this gathering of Sith altogether.”

Of course, ‘taking to the skies’ was not a thing most girls could do, but I wanted to see how he reacted to the statement.

[member="Julian Imani"]​

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Preliat looked over at the younger man. He was accomplished, and knew much, much of which Preliat probably would never know. Preliat ran a hand through his closely cropped hair, sighing.

"Failure once does not equate to failure unending, Koda. Loss once, does not mean to loss unending."

He swiped a drink from a nearby Imperial officer, chatting with some...harlot. He sneered at the Officer, wondering how he would taste over a slow-roast and with just a light seasoning. Probably the same as most of his kind, weak, skinny men with power coming from their positions rather than by their own hands.

He turned back to the Bounty Hunter.

"There aren't enough credits, enough bounties, enough fame or glory to vanquish your demons. There will come a time in which you have to face them, rather than ignore them."

Preliat was the master of running away from his problems, ignoring them. Not any longer. He faced his demons. He controlled them now. He was at the helm once more.

"When you leave this plane of existence and pass into the Manda- the ether, the void- no one will remember your credits, most will not remember your glory. My memory will forever be tarnished by the fact that the Infernal bares my name, and that insufferable spawn of hers. That is my memory, that will be my legacy. Could you imagine a worse way to be remembered?" He took a swig of the girly drink. Hardly even befitting the weakest Mandalorian.

"So I pose a question to you, Koda- what will you be remembered for? Bounty Hunters come and go, you know that. So what else is there to Koda Fett, besides the hunt, besides the money?" The Wolf locked onto where he knew Koda's eyes were.

[member="Koda Fett"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Location: Ballroom, Blakeslee Falls Estate
Objective: Enjoy Primat’s company and dance
Dress: Red and Black Gown
With: [member="Primat Ren"]

Varas leaned into the kiss, wishing that she and Primat could be utterly alone. The Gardens were beyond beautiful as was the castle, as was the ballroom, as were a multitude of places and faces they got the luxury to see.

Then again, she remembered the two of them side by side being patched up by surgical droids. How long would the elysium last before they were pitted against others? Against themselves as her father had warned them during a feast in the Bastion of Ren?

"Yeah, definitely."

Primat’s deep and familiar voice broke her out of her worries. Varas and he clasped hands again and walked towards the music, letting the orchestra help them find their way to the ballroom. And this time their dance was less awkward and clumsy as the night on The Carbonite Contessa. The Knight knew his body better now and vice versa. This time, hands were placed strategically low upon spines, not low enough to be improper, but tiptoeing on that line.

“Can we run away? Tonight? What would happen if we just left this place and never went back? Stole a luxury ship…” Varas cracked a smile, the line between fantasy and reality blurring. But still her words held an urgency as though she just needed that push to go through with this crazy plan, like the way her lover gently pushed and pulled at her muscular form as they swayed to the music.

 

[Lynnori Cruz]

The Outer Rim, Galidraan, Blakeslee Falls Estate, The Outdoor Dining Area, Unspecified Time
Camellia; Pink | Interacting with [member="Kole Harper"] (Others TBD) ~ Young and Beautiful ~ "Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?"
——————————————————————

Oh, to feel comfortable in one's own skin.

Lyn had never had much luxury in that regard. Nights on Zeltros had been spent feeling the companionship of her parents deteriorate as others came and went, seeding wounds that all had been oblivious too; those emotions had scared her. Made her feel alone, truly alone. The polygamy of Zeltrons was what made them beautiful, but wasn't there always an uglier side to beauty? That was Lyn. She was that shadow of their culture. The one harmed by it, not helped. Her fingers crept across the surface of the bar to his idle hand, the smallest fingers gently curling around his. Ever since those times on her homeworld she had never enjoyed the fact she was who she was. That it was in her genetics to beguile and be drop-dead gorgeous and turn heads everywhere she went. Couldn't she just be the quiet girl she saw everywhere? Or did that just not compute with what she was at her core?

"You're forgiven," Lyn muttered, clearly indicating all the drama concerning him not calling following the Maltoya case, "At least we got a night out of it." It had been a little childish, sure, but it had hurt too when they'd been together for so long in such tense situations but then suddenly split. And yet divine intervention had pushed them right back together, go figure. The few fingers holding his tightened briefly, and the bartender slid her another drink.

——————————————————————
Evening Wear Attire

 

[Nilia Saavilin]

The Outer Rim, Galidraan, Blakeslee Falls Estate, The Ballroom, Unspecified Time
Deals and Deals | Interacting with [member="Darth Maliphant"], [member="Vaylin"] | [member="Vestille Thumahra"], [member="Mythos"], Mara Rockwell ~ Glory and Gore ~ "We mean it, but I promise we're not mean."
——————————————————————

Ah. Well. This was interesting, wasn't it?

Nilia was never one to appear too outwardly turned off by something. When her master looked over she was composed as ever, an almost friendly expression across her face. Those familiar with politicians, however, would see it what it was; a facsimile of an expression meant more to reassure those who wouldn't see past it. That expression turned from the Zabrak Vaylin, who got a nod and a more genuine grin before her eyes met the large man, his dead animal, and his blue female.

All walks of life, hm?

She didn't say anything as Maliphant spoke a greeting in direction of the Sith Lord and his lady, though they got the same pleasant, almost blank look. Then came one thing that seemed to get just a bit of a rise out of her; when her master so boldly invited the one raising her curiosity right on over, intentions clear. The arms linking them tightened. A heel clicked nervously against the floor, tapping, and dark eyes of ire turned up to him, sure to be met with some smugness across his annoyingly symmetrical face. His ploy to get her a little embarrassed had worked, for colour flooded her normally pale face and made her hollowing cheeks less gaunt, more alive, less like a Sithspawn.

"Thank you, for that, master." Nilia muttered in that way that sounded like water-and-wine, poison-and-antidote. The eyes turned from Maliphant to Vestille, the expression plain as day in his direction.

She saw him for what he was, too.

——————————————————————
Evening Wear Attire

 

[Darth Ferus]

"It would be neigh impossible without a pre-existing location to hide one as infamous as Veiere currently is. And with all your assets currently watched I imagine you'd have to have someone outside the current lock on your regime. How unfortunate no one owns something like a tomb on this planet who could assist you." Krest gave [member="Lady Kay"] a sympathetic pat on her shoulder before peering towards [member="Jor Kvall"] curiously.

"You would say the Sith are bad news then? Most often they are for many, yet the Mandolorian and Sith alliance has been going strong for a while." He paused, giving the Mandolorian a knowing look. "Or has it." He turned to the tea provided, idly sipping as he glanced about the gardens he had once walked among without worry of prying eyes alongside the Queen, a frown on his lips.

"Truthfully I don't think red suits Commonor, do you?"

 

[Koda Fett]

The Bounty Hunter had began to stare ahead with those vacant eyes that existed beneath his T-Shaped Visor, beneath his Helmet. His gaze was fixed, locked on the area ahead of him, but nothing in particular. His mind had been the instrument of his person that happened to become the most active in a moment of frivolous introspection, or so it typically had been. Everything that Fett was and had ever been shifted throughout his mind. Clone, Soldier, Slave, Husband, Father, Bounty Hunter, Mandalorian, Killer. That is all he could ever be remembered for; his killings, his fearsome actions and impenetrable reputation. There was an end for everyone in the Galaxy, and when all was said and done what was it that was left of them? Perhaps Fett could be remembered as the Bounty Hunter he aspired to be- had become, or he might simply be lost to the times.

He truly didn't know.

Fett offered a shrug of a his armoured shoulders, his voice dry and lacking any definitive emotion. "Nothing. I am the Bounty Hunter. It's my identity." It was such a lie told with such confidence. He had aspired to lead a regular life once but he's a violent man with an unquenchable thirst for it. His Wife, his Son, lost to time as he ventured forwards into the unknown. There hadn't been anything left, and thus the Clone took to the way of his template.

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Muad Dib]

Location: Ballroom
Interacting with: [member="Adrian Vandiir"] , @Shomo Ike
Wearing: Suit


Listening to both the Prince and the young Sith he nodded slightly as he took another drink. The previous tension had seemed to ebb away as mutual interests came to the fore. As he was called Mr Dib then astutely a Sorcerer, he couldn't help but let out a grin reminiscent of the togorian that ate the rishii. His introduction into the ball was negligent by design, his continued mystery merely a byproduct. Yet somethings we're obvious despite the miniscule subterfuge.

Looking once more to the Prince and accepting the nod with one of his own, he agreed with the sentiment that science was quite interesting and engaging. As the young Sithling spoke his eyes were drawn to his own arm which drew Muad's attention to it more closely. He had sensed the man's presence in the Darkside, but there had seemed an echo as if a shadow of himself was reflected. As glowing eyes focused more he sensed it. Something crafted and cultivated within the Darkside. Brow raised subtly in appreciation of the Sith and a higher opinion of the man.

"Muad will do just fine. I need no title nor desire one for myself. And I do agree with you, politics, scholarly pursuits, and science are quite the topics. I find it amusing how often the three subjects over lap. When following my own scholarly pursuits I was inspired to delve into science as well. To recreate a once mythic creature and breathe life into the race. The k'kayeh dragon is both a beautifully exquiste and dangerous specimen. Perhaps one day I shall be afforded the opportunity to show you both one."

Turning to Shoma he let a genuine smile ease through.

"As for the Yovshin Swordsmen, I find them to be a stalwart group of warriors. I have had occasion to test their mettle and the style of dual wielding has always fascinated me, even in my humble beginnings. What drew me most to the Atrisian combat form was the artistry within the movements. Precision and elegance, beauty and death balanced on the edge of a blade."

An indulgent grin crossed his face as he remembered more then one training session in his youth with Master Darkhold, the Togashi Shogun. Simpler times then, when all he existed to be was the warmonger. But as all things, he had evolved from just the Mad Man.

"Collaboration with mutual enlightenment and benefit. Not exactly a Sith doctrine, but neither is it fully embraced by the Jedi. Knowledge is power, knowledge is dangerous. Yet doesn't knowledge promote growth and evolution of character? I would find such an endeavor fortuitous."

His words made him smirk thinking of his brother Derek. Now he was the politician and the one who had a way with words. Muad always considered himself a man of action. Perhaps that was why the brothers worked well together, and badly together. He chuckled as he took another drink.