The Hapes Consortium Masquerade Ball

[Aleister Grey]

It was not to entirely surprising a Zeltronain would pick out such a custom a scents. “That is very close”, little did Leilani know she was playing Hapen custom at the moment. A detail Aleister would share in a few. “This custom dates early into the Consortium’s history. It is very similar to the Naboo handkerchiefs. The ladies of Naboo would carry a handkerchief around with them. When they could smell a unpleasant scent they would put the handkerchief to their noise. In this case a Hapen lady would have a fresh cut flower. It then could be used in a subtle fashion when the lady is around a unpleasant scent. Well that is the origin of the custom and now it is more about fashion. Do you happen to see any others?”

[member="Leilani Paaie"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Dissero"] caught her eye from across one of the halls, his presence intimately familiar though they'd never met. She'd long since grown accustomed to calling herself Velok, but revealing her existence and nature to Dissero -- Dissero, who more than anyone else had the ability and the right to say 'you're not what you think you are' -- required the right moment. Maybe this was it, and maybe not. Either way, [member="Sicarius"] needed her attention.

And then there was the matter of the girl. [member="Verie Lacroix"], her borrowed memories said; Velok had known of her, but never met her, at least not that Selka could recall. Velok had never cared much about Dissero's private life, and Selka was surprised to find that the possessiveness, the allegiance which Velok felt toward his old partner translated into something like jealousy when seen through the lens of humanoid female brain chemistry. Another reason to avoid the happy couple, at least until she could get a handle on this, whatever 'this' was.

A touch, a thought, a coquettish request turned a waiter into an intermediary, bearing a note to the Archivist. The note contained enough private references that, frankly, it could only have come from one person; she left it unsigned.

Glad you could make it, old friend. I'm taking a great leap forward tonight. ​

​

Not exactly Rudrig, but it's the journey, not the destination.​

​

Watch for my sign.​

Standard procedure from the old days -- keep your options open so that, whatever happens, it looks like you were ready. Like you were behind everything, and everyone in attendance was a dejarik piece. Being Velok was about audacity, about the illusion of absolute confidence, as much as it was actually about outwitting people. Pretend you know what's going on, and they'll assume you know more than you do-

And when, exactly, had her old business partner started looking that good from behind?

Feth. This is not good.

 

[Verie Lacroix]

Verie murmured her pleasantry and thanks to the Queen Mother and the assorted retinue before following [member="Dissero"] out of the room. "You enjoyed that," Verie said, her voice low but full of unexpressed laughter. It was an accusation but not an acrimonious one, and she squeezed his arm lightly before freeing it to snatch two champagne flutes from a passing waiter. She offered one to him and then once again slipped her hand around his arm, tucking her fingers into the crook of his elbow as they walked down the corridor, her gown swishing expensively around her feet.

As they walked, Verie glanced sidelong at Dissero. How strange and wonderful it felt to be with him like this, after all this time. She had grown up with Avadreia Lacroix too much to know what he saw in her, why he seemed to want her at his side at an event like this when there were dozens, if not hundreds of other women, better bred, more accomplished, and more beautiful than she. Verie was grateful that it was so; apart from Dissero, she was quite alone in the galaxy following the death of her mother and brother. She had no family and few friends, and so the ones she had meant a great deal to her.

And yet, as the encounter with the Queen Mother underscored, nothing was written in stone and nothing lasted forever. Love affairs came and went, Force knew, and even if Dissero cared for Verie in the same way she did for him, there was no guarantee that theirs would end happily. His was a dangerous life, and though she had swallowed her fear and agreed to plunge into it with him, she was haunted by the thought of living, as she had during her search for him, in grief of his possible demise, not just for a few weeks but for the rest of her life. She shivered violently and disengaged herself from Dissero and, as a way of disguising the sensation, moved to one side of the corridor where a painting hung in a large, gilded frame, a cityscape of the capital under a distinctly Hapan night sky.

She felt dwarfed by it, a sensation that did nothing for her suddenly morose feelings. Silently berating herself, she turned to Dissero just as a Hapan waiter approached. She waited for him to conduct his business, busying herself with another intent study of the painting before turning back. "I wonder what your sister would make of this. Maybe we should snag her one of the smaller ones as a souvenir."

 

[Leilani Paaie]

Leilani nodded, "oh that's very interesting but if they are trying to drown out the smell of the perfume they are wearing they will need something a lot stronger than a fresh cut flower" She kept looking ahead but she looked over at Aleister without turning her head, as she smiled.

"The men are all wearing black socks, the women all have pink painted nails, and no one smiles" Which only made her smile more "So is this just good grooming habits, or is there some secret code to it?" She picked up a glass of champagne as a waiter passed noticing that Aleister had a glass she did not offer another.

"And a question do they give all hapans a secret decoder ring in order to know all these customs?" She took a sip, she was very intrigued by this society of beautiful educated people with all their nuances and customs.

[member="Aleister Grey"]

 

[Aleister Grey]

[member="Leilani Paaie"] was not that far off with all her questions. “The truth”, he earnestly began, “There is all secrete code to all of it. Figuratively speaking of course. Just like this small game we have been playing. It is a diplomatic custom we Hapens have when in a social gathering with other visiting diplomatic official or just guests. Not only is it a way to have a quasi fun way to have a conversation. It also helps to introduce others to our culture. The game can work both ways. The visiting guest or diplomatic official can turn the question to their culture. Then it would be I who would be learning something new about you and your people.”

 

[Dissero]

Dissero was the cat that ate the canary, grinning in response to Verie. Yes, he'd enjoyed it - an ode to his darker origins where somewhere deep within, the man enjoyed the discomfort and pain of others to a disturbing extent. Eyes affixed to the grand hall and the elaborate decor, he paused only when she pulled away, sensing the whithered trail of worry on her mind. Dissero didn't press upon it, as much as he would have liked to.

Verie was as much his paramour as she was his student. Aside from the proverbial cough-in-hand-cliché, their's was a fate he believed instilled in the very fabric of time and essence itself. Perhaps he waxed romantic or mystical, but he could not help the innate gravity she held towards him. No matter how far they parted, they always seemed pulled back to one another again. As such, his lifestyle couldn't account for Verie's otherwise inexperience of the galaxy and all the shadows that plagued it. It was dangerous, nigh every step of the way at times, and one had to have their wits about them.

Coddling her for every moment of doubt or worry wouldn't help her to survive. Verie would need to build her strength and defenses, layer by layer. One day she would be as stoic and immovable as her mother, of this he had no doubt.

"Beg your pardon, Sire," a waiter had appeared before him, one he promptly attempted to dismiss by displaying the full glass of champagne in his hand only to pause as the waiter handed him a folded note, "from the lovely lady ... ah, well, from a lovely lady." Apparently whoever this lovely lady was had fled the scene, wherever it happened to be.

"...well that narrows it down," Dissero muttered to himself, blue gaze tracking Verie's movements along the hall, "thank you."

The Archivist unfolded the note and read it. Then read it again, whites of his eyes flashing as he looked up and around the hall.

A lovely lady indeed.

Couldn't be a joke. Couldn't have been written by the long-dead Master but couldn't have been written by anyone else, especially not a lovely lady. There was but one entity in the entire galaxy who could have written the note, and he was exactly the opposite of just that. Unfortunately there was no nine foot tall greying whiphid to be seen nor felt within the Force.

Dissero quickly downed his champagne, placed the flute on another passing waiter's tray and took another. He downed that too, eyes narrowing, flickering across the faces filling the halls with intense scrutiny.

Champagne wasn't strong enough for this.

"Ve," he pocketed the note and moved to find his date, hand at her arm tense and firm, "let's go find the bar, shall we?"

The walk through the crowd would afford him a chance to look more closely. That, and moving generally helped him keep his paranoia in check.

[member="Verie Lacroix"]
[member="Selka Ventus"]

 

[Verie Lacroix]

Verie looked down at Dissero's hand as he took her arm, her eyebrows furrowing. "Yes, all right," she answered pleasantly, and began to walk with him, as quickly as she could with her legs constrained by the confines of her gown.The sudden change in the Prince's demeanor was not lost on Verie Lacroix, with his attention seeming split in all different directions. "Is anything --" she began, before falling silent in the presence of other guests, strangers all to Verie. The whirlwind of the Hapan palace flashed before her eyes until they were crossing the threshold of the bar. She elected to stay with her champagne, which she had barely touched, waving off the offer of a fresh drink from the barman.

Eyes scanning the crowd, Verie was not expecting to see anyone she knew. Everyone she knew was dead, or touring with the Kuati Royal Ballet Society. Still, it was interesting to watch the movers and shakers of the galaxy when they were among their own kind. These are your people now. She closed her brown eyes and rolled them. Verie took another sip of her champagne and opened her eyes again to watch the crowd. The smattering of maskless Hapan women Verie could see were as beautiful as the rumors had said, and their men, predominantly servants sans masks, benefited from the good genes, too. But the Hapans were most certainly not 'her people'.

"I'm terribly pleased to be here with you," Verie told Dissero in a quiet murmur as she turned back to the bar. She took another drink of her champagne, finishing the glass, and then set it on the bar. A moment later it was swept away by an efficient Hapan manservant, who asked if she would have anything else. Verie again declined and turned her attention back to the Prince, upon whose arm she placed a gentle hand. "And I'll be even more pleased to get back to it, right after I go to powder my nose." As she moved behind him towards the room's exit, her hand swept over his neck and shoulders to his other arm before dropping. A student of the holofilm, Verie wanted to say something smooth and clever about not wandering off too far, or they'd each be lost in a sea of masks, but in the moment her words failed her so she simply smiled awkwardly from under her mask before turning and walking off, pausing to discreetly ask a servant for directions to the powder room.

[member="Dissero"] | [member="Selka Ventus"]

 

[Dissero]

"Bourbon," Dissero ordered, and would have been pleasantly surprised with the mark of quality served were it not for the thoughts racing through his mind. After pushing his mask up into his hair he gave the drink a tense sip, eyes roving through the myriad of masked faces surrounding him.

Velok would pick a masque to come out at.

Where was he. Where?

There was a hand on his arm that he nearly didn't notice, might not have were it not for the gentle words that followed.

"I'm terribly pleased to be here with you."

Dissero turned to Verie, his expression uneasy but affectionate, "Ve..." I would have it no other way, he wanted to say, but she cut him to the chase to excuse herself. Another sip of bourbon and the heat could not come close to un-knotting his insides. Jaw going tight and lips drawing thin, he watched Verie's figure disappear into the crowd with a deep sense of possibly unwarranted foreboding.

The Archivist downed the rest of his drink and ordered another.

Bourbon wasn't strong enough for this. Perhaps he'd be better off with jet-fuel.

His mind following Verie's presence instead, Dissero took his drink and slowly worked his way into the bodies as well. Searching. Hunting. Probing the Force for that singular presence...

[member="Verie Lacroix"]
[member="Selka Ventus"]

 

[Halik Falkosi]

Halik found the decor to be rather, well... blah. It just was exactly the typical travesty that one would expect from the Hapans. No sense of true majesty or beauty existed in this bunch. They feigned it. Went about pretending to be avante garde but it was the same standard stuff that was in a few years ago anyways. Halik found the entire venture to be rather boring. Planets existed to be subdued and glory to be obtained. However, he had to treat his date well after all. And what did his date want? Balls. Halik was obviously glad to oblige.

Standing his finely pressed tuxedo straight from the Arkanian seamstresses. He leaned against the tall table for a moment and spun a toothpick in his glass. To his date, "This is such a droll affair, would you say, Malik?"

[member="Malik Rodarch"]

 

[Sicarius]

Another movement, another shift. Another stretch, another reach. Another flex, another breath. Another crystal, another cloth.

The repetitive nature of his work would bore some and drive others mad. The life of a thief, according to fiction and drama, was one of high stakes. It spoke of risky gambits and masked infiltrators. It told stories of the gallant underdog who stole from the rich to aid the poor or of the lowest scum stealing from crime lords to prove themselves. There was the love interest, because what story was complete without a love interest. It was the romanticism of the thief and the pickpocket that had killed the concept of the thief. They had lost the idea of the professional thief, of the dedicated burglar.

Sicarius had not, however. As crystal after crystal found its way into his bag, he knew this was his path. A Jedi once, an assassin of sorts. Now a thief and problem solver combined.

As the last of the second tier entered his bag, he began work on the third tier. The labor and repetitive nature of his work reminded him of the chief rules of the professional thief.

Don't get caught, never give up, and finish the jobs you start.

[member="Selka Ventus"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Dissero"] [member="Verie Lacroix"] [member="Sicarius"]

Absent the distraction of the lanky man and the chandelier -- several rooms away for safety, but not close enough for comfort -- she would have had a plan. When the girl went off with the nearly universal mannerisms of a high-class woman on track for a good nose-powdering, she should have had a plan. The old her would have known what kind of opportunity this was, known it for sure.

Hesitation was not acceptable.

Watch for my sign, she'd said, without deciding what it would be. In hindsight, she could admit the childishness of spontaneity, but if this was who she was now, it was time to put on the mask.

She walked past, didn't slow down as she brushed his arm, whispered-

"Evening, Lord Dissero."

-and carried on. He'd have a lock on her, taste her mind, sense what she believed herself to be if he dug in. Maybe he'd stop her, or maybe he'd speak to her mind, or maybe nothing. Regardless, she didn't look back.

 

[Leilani Paaie]

[member="Aleister Grey"]

"Oh is that what it is Duch'ix" She laughed a little thinking about this little Hapan game of culture. "Are all the Hapans in on this secret or is it only just a few?" Leilani now looked at him with a different point of view they were a people who liked politics, games. She smiled then looked out across the room, "So, I would say that Hapans are the exact opposite of Zeltrons, do you agree?"

She smiled not knowing what he would say, but interested in it nonetheless.

 

[Aleister Grey]

[member="Leilani Paaie"]

“Opposite, really”, he questioned with a quirky smile. “Miss Paaie”, Aleister extended his hand. For a moment his eyes left her beauty and it looked to the doors that lead to the balcony that over looked the twinkling lights of Hapes Prime. It was an obvious request for to join him in a walk to the balcony so they may share a gorgeous night view.

“Are we”, he inquired, “please do tell. I would certainly enjoy to hear your perspective.”

 

[Leilani Paaie]

[member="Aleister Grey"]

Leilani took the offered hand "Well let us discuss then Duch'ix, Hapans are very controlled of their emotions is this not so?" She looked at him, and then to the other faces as they walked slowly past them headed to the balcony. Their conversation perhaps not always for everyone to hear.

This conversation on culture could not cause too much ill will. But it did seem to have the potential to create a stir.

 

[Alexandra Feanor]

[member="Darth Tsolan"]

"I could fix that if you want to have people shoot at you, after all it would only take the screaming of a pregnant woman, no?" She smiled at him and widened her smile when he had kissed her cheek, her own forehead coming down on his shoulder as they danced and listening to the sounds around them as she sort of eavesdropped on those in the area out of habit. "It is strange though, considering it would really only take them to know our signatures to know who we are."

 

[Edric Vanyan]

[member="Mirumoto Hitomi"]

He smiled and took the hand, raising an eyebrow behind his mask as he laughed a bit realizing his mistake. "Hmm, i suppose if you will give me your name i might as well drop the whole Alias thing, no?" He smiled and led her to the floor before giving her another quick bow and positioning his hands after giving her a moment to make sure it was fine. "Promethian, now, where are you from Miss Hitomi?"

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen chuckled as they continued their dance. "Speak for yourself. For me, it was a simple matter to take the darkness from my presence. I can't mimic light, but its quite easy to pose myself as a neutral user." As her head rested on his shoulder, he smiled and pulled her a bit closer in the dance. "For now I'm just happy I get to relax and dance among all these different people with the girl of my dreams.

[member="Alexandra Lianne Feanor"]

 

[Mirumoto Hitomi]

[member="Kharen Promethien"]

Hitomi laid her fingers gently onto the palm of his hand and then curled them on the edge secure in their position she turned to look up at him, "I am a Morganian Promethian, and you where do you call home?"

They began to slowly move with the music guiding their steps one, two, three. forward, side back together. She felt light as a feather as they moved her dress allowed for some movement but it was not the sweeping motion like those around them. The skirts billowed out and swept the floor they were beautiful but she felt beautiful in her own right. And that someone had asked her to dance was affirmation of her thought.

 

[Dissero]

Skin bristling, senses flaring, Dissero's head snapped in the direction of the passerby, following the figure of the woman as she weaved her way through the crowd. His mind followed, struggling momentarily with the instinctive reflexes to drop everything else - including Verie - to follow this entity. The man mustered his will and decided instead to pursue on foot. Determined strides carried him quickly after, twisting and wending with calculated ease through the current of bodies, depositing yet another empty glass on a passing waiter's tray.

He caught up to her finally at the edge of the dance floor and reached to press a hand at the small of her back, guiding her forward into the sea of couples and bringing her into the step of a waltz. Even if the woman didn't know how, the man lead with a firm and unyielding grasp, enough to contain [member="Selka Ventus"] should she attempt to flee.

A stride, a turn, a mental check - Verie was still at the ladies room. Two strides, his mind returned to the dark-skinned woman, "I don't know who you are, but the years have been unkind to my mind and good humor," his voice was low, deep, scathing as he leaned in, "I don't play games Miss, so I'm going to need you to fold your cards."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Dissero"]

Her society finishing had been recent; she'd crammed it between the multifarious demands of running one of the galaxy's largest corporations and its associated hyperlane. Before that, her three backgrounds went Metellos slumdog/Vagrant Fleet, Whiphid, and immortal Fallanassi assassin. She was, in short, a poor ballroom dancer. But when a man who looked like Dissero swept you into a waltz or whatever this one was called, you did your level best to keep up. Selka Ventus the malnourished street rat turned failed corporate messiah would have been breathless at this point, from low oxygen potential if nothing else. The rest of her was slightly out of breath, a little bit irritated, and a little bit amused.

"Spare me your indignation." Her eyes flicked across his face, clinically. "Is that one of Moridin's masks? It is, isn't it. Lovely find. But then you've always been one for making connections, Your Highness."