The Ziost Affair [The Primeval][PM for late invite]

[Neiros Starwind]

Time always was relative.

But, when alcohol and intoxication entered into the mix, time became very, VERY fluid.

How long had the rogue been at the party? None of the guests could hazard to guess, had they cared to. He'd arrived early, or late. He wasn't sure. He'd started drinking long before arriving to the ball, and decided formal-wear was no reason to cease his own festivities.

Neiros nursed his somethingeth drink, a bitter blue concoction that had this horribly pleasant burn as it went down. He'd sigh, back to the rest of the ball, as he gazed absently into the glass. What the feth am I even doing here... he thought to himself. I mean, free booze is fine and all.... but seriously.... Why am I here, and not out getting paid?

Time is relative.... but just the same, time is money.

The rogue finally shifted his gaze out to the rest of the gathering. He saw not one familiar face, his addled mind not so far gone to be unable to recognize anyone familiar to himself. He'd tip his head back, letting the burning sensation wash over him as the blue liquid ran down his throat. "To meet the natives, or not to.... that is the question, eh?" The safety, comfort, and familiarity of the liquid filled bottles at the bar were strongly tempting him to remain.... but, who knows.... perhaps someone looking to drop a few creds on a job for him was out there.... The choices were difficult.

The question was, just how social could the rogue force himself to be this day?

 

[Bolt]

Zaiden would arrive, with an amazingly beautiful Claire beside him, rather late. Though he immediately smiled around himself at all the people that already seemed happily drunk. Straightening his suits vest, he made his way slowly inside, while he held out an arm for Claire to grip. The building was a wonderful place for a party, and the ambiance was moving.

He would enjoy his time here.

Instantly though, he began searching for any faces that may know him well enough to want to cause a scene. Claire knew he was a Force User, but she didn't know really of what caliber, nor of what sect. How would she react if suddenly someone showed screaming about his past atrocities!?

[member="Claire Organa"]

 

[Rawnie Tal'verda]

A suit? Yes. That might be more comfortable. At least to have something covering her legs.

"We'll see. Let's just do our best not to find ourselves in this position again."

And by that position, of course, she meant at a fancy party. She rubbed the tiny bump where their child was growing. Every once in a while, she could swear she felt something moving around in there. Like right now. Just a gentle fluttering, but it was something. Yes. She was sure she wasn't imagining it.


[member="Doctor Azure"]

 

[Keira Priest]

The theatrics were entirely unnecessary. If there was one thing that never ceased to evoke at least minor annoyance, it was the fact that others always seemed to insist on making their entrances memorable, or at least something supposedly entreating to the other party. Why simply walking over and sitting down didn't suffice Keira would never understand. Anything more just wasted everyone's time, and that was something those that considered war their occupation didn't have much of to lose. That included people like the both of them. But still, she couldn't be entirely to irritated. Not when this time the mysterious act put on had the chance of revealing an old friend, or at least an old ally of sorts.

It was the voice that was ultimately recognizable. Of course, it was hard to forget when the individual it belonged to had helped to save her life on one occasion. Just what that occasion had been she still hadn't quite pinned down, but soon enough a locale came to her. And with that a tidal wave of remembrances best left forgotten. Teth. That day had been hell uprooted and brought to the surface, making it nearly impossible to forget. Thousands had been killed, leaving even more injured, the planet itself overrun with Rakghouls at the last word she had received. Even that had been years ago. It had all been a hazy cloud on the edge of her subconscious, until this shadow from the past manifested out of nowhere.

"Didn't think you ever paid much attention." Apparently this was the night where every ghost from some point in her life decided to resurface. "You've always had impeccable timing." Which was, of course, sarcasm at its finest. Sure, he had helped her out a time or two, but those allegiances were changed. Now they stood on opposite sides of the fence, though in some manner their lives seemed to intersect. Not quite enemies but not exactly allies either, they walked the fine line that separated the two with a predatory ease. However, his new associations were nearly enough to push her to one side. It was a line both would have to tread carefully, lest this equilibrium be disturbed.

When Connor approached she flashed a smile, kicking out a third chair, wordlessly inviting him to sit. "It's been seven years, Logan. Mind telling me where the hell you've been?"

[member="Evor"], [member="Connor Harrison"], [member="Slade Zambrano"]

 

[Evor]

A grin spread on Logan's face as he watched the surge of emotions flood across Keira's face. He furrowed his brow and studied her as she did, trying to discern any detail or sliver of information he could. Deep down he hoped that she did not hate him, that she would allow the actions of his past to come before her assumptions of him. Granted, they were probably correct but that didn't mean he wouldn't be offended if she assumed him to be a horrible person. "My timing has always been the epitome of perfect. There was no reason for me to be here any sooner nor later than I currently am." He stopped for a moment, reaching over the table and wrapping a meaty hand around the slim neck of the bottle of whiskey. He pulled it closer to himself, popping the top off and placing the bottle to his lips.

He threw his head back, letting the liquid burn its way down his throat and into his stomach. "Now as for where I have been, that is an interesting question I dare say." He waved the bottle around in front of him in a very "Captain Jack Sparrow" kinda way. "The simple answer, is everywhere. Beyond that, I dare say you would like to know, Now,Where have you been, my dear? I should be offended, implying I never gave a Bantha's ass about your or the rest of the Ravens." He leaned back in his chair and gave her a sly wink, not really sure what the hell he was saying. Truly, all he was trying to do was be a cocky, arrogant prick. It was her reaction that would shape the conversation and where it lead. He eye-balled the newcomer, watching his every move as he was not sure where to place him. He had never seen nor met the man before, that was for sure. However as he knew all to well, first impressions could be all to deceiving.

[member="Keira Ticon"] | [member="Connor Harrison"]​

 

[Kaster Sane]

Having followed them both out onto the terrace, But nit wanting them to suspect hed followed them, Kaster made his way to the terrace railing and began to make sick wretching sounds as if hed had a bit to much to drink. Though playing out this charade to keep his natural purpose from them both, And being turned slightly away from them he still managed to keep [member="Rawnie Tal'verda"] and [member="Doctor Azure"] both just inside his peripheral vision as his body contorted as he made the wretching noise.

 

[Keira Priest]

A roll of the eyes was really the only proper response. "You talk too much." Not that Keira really had room to say much of anything, given that her arrogance was more than capable of matching his at any point. That was the real irony of it; she couldn't tolerate others that mimicked her own behavior nearly exactly. And he was managing to do a perfect job of just that. "How long did it take you to learn those big words? Must have been awhile, with the company you've decided to keep." It was plain she was referring to The Primeval and any and all who willingly associated themselves with the group. Over the years she had developed a healthy contempt for anyone that followed them, and with good reason. However, this scenario had the capacity to develop differently. Not that it necessarily would, the more he ran his mouth.

The cigarette she held had been all but forgotten, and she once more brought it to her lips, blowing a cloud of smoke directly in his face. Two could play at this game, and she wouldn't be the one losing. "There was no reason for you to show up at all. And don't flatter yourself. You know damn well it's not 'my dear' to you or anybody." For all of her words her expression remained nonchalant, carrying on as if this was nothing more than a casual conversation not laden with poorly disguised insults at every turn. She had to at least pretend to be civilized, sometimes. Right now wasn't quite one of those. "I've been around. Your Host Lord would know a bit about that." That was one way to determine motive. "You have a funny way of showing that you don't care. Made it look an awful lot like saving each other's lives on Teth." His move.

[member="Evor"], [member="Connor Harrison"], [member="Slade Zambrano"]

 

[Evor]

The cloud of smoke hit him directly in the face, but years of puffing on the cancer sticks made it so instead of coughing, he inhaled deeply through his nose to make a mockery of her action. He smiled softly at her, clicking his tongue against his teeth softly. "Bah, don't be silly. You missed hearing the sound of my voice." He reached into his own pocket and pulled out a fancy cigarette tin; the Red Raven logo branded into one side and the Cæmel Dragon logo branded onto the other. He opened the top of the tin, making sure the logos were more than visible to Keira. Pulling one out, he reached across the table and extended it toward her in offering. Whether she accepted or declined the offer, he wouldn't offer one to Connor as a "macho, Asserting my dominance" kind of thing. "I'm sure these are much better than whatever you're smoking."

"I see no reason for you to be offended at me calling you 'my dear'. Such a lovely young lady like you should be honored to be the center of someones attention." He let another grin creep across his face for a second, before it returned to the usual stone look. He drummed the fingers of his left hand on the table, letting them fall and rise in a constant pattern. "This hostility towards me though...", he said, letting his words hang in the air for a second. "Rather uncalled for, isn't it? I haven't done a thing to hurt you. It's almost like you're looking for a reason to hate me, Keira." He put a lot of stress on her name, drawing it out slightly and putting an edge behind it as he said it.

[member="Keira Ticon"] | [member="Connor Harrison"]​

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

"Of course... " Just like that, Titus was erased. "I'm not surprised, given your particular infamy..." The Black Prophet resumed his conversation with the Voice of the Dark Lord. "The Primeval holds steady control of this wild region of space, ever vigilant to find the Rift to the old gods. World after world under our grasp... a few rumblings on Muunilinst... you understand. What you may not have known about me in particular however, is my life as of late." Giant reptilian eyes hidden behind that repulsive mask narrowed as they bore into the nothing beyond Vornskr. It was unlikely his nephew would understand, it was difficult to imagine the epicanthix actually caring about someone else beyond any superficial level. Additionally, he had never felt the touch of dying and the insanity that follows when experienced too often or too much. This was the first of any conversation anyone has had with the Hutt, that wasn't laced with insanity or impulsive action.

"After your father murdered me, my spirit had been sent into the void in search of a new host. The event was so sudden I hardly noticed when I woke up in this revolting bag of flesh. There was such a loss in consciousness, it is difficult to remember the past several decades, as anything more than one murder leading into the next." Without delving too deeply into the details, the Prophet outlined the specifics of his life leading up to the great tragedy that had fundamentally altered him. "But then, that life of mine, found love in a Jawa gifted in all the same ways it had been. Sick as it may be... I must admit I am still afflicted with that weakness which compels me to find the Unseen Rift... for [member="Mishk"], it was called, had been murdered on Korriban at the Eternal Pyre. It broke me, and granted me his piety in this faith." Explaining the death of Mishk had been difficult for many facets of his personality... but it could be seen that a number of self-conscious entities within the Hutt felt conflicted by the prospect of his lost love, and questioned his devotion. Even as the illusion of unity was held together by the Black Prophet, in reality the dementia the Hutt suffered was terminal. There was no repairing the scaring of multiple lives.

"I trust that you believe me a blight upon your existence, and understand my personal loss is a bore to you, but you must understand what compels me to act as I do, if you should trust me." This level of thought was sickening. Someone needs to tell this Hutt to snap out of it and murder something for no reason.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Doctor Azure]

Lor was about to say something to the effect of parties not being all bad, when something happened to make him stop talking before he even started. A tall-ish man was retching over the side of the terrace, but the Chiss certainly didn't move out from under his wife to help him. Medically trained or not, people who couldn't hold their liquor were on their own, where Lor was concerned. He simply let his head drop back own to rest on top of Rawnie's.​

​

"Don't worry. Any party I ever bring you to will probably involve less space magicians and more coffee. Maybe cards, too."​

​

[member="Rawnie Tal'verda"] [member="Kaster Sane"]​

 

[Slade Zambrano]

[member="Evor"] [member="Keira Ticon"] @Conner Harrison

In truth Slade loved Keira more than sharks loved blood, he wanted to hold her in his arms and run his hands through her hair and whisper just how much she meant to him. But there were lots of factors going into prevention of him doing said acts. One being the dependency to drugs. Slade just didn't feel that he could ever be the right person for Keira, he couldn't be the man she deserved. Two was that his father [member="Darth Vornskr"] was standing right over yonder talking up his great uncle the Hutt that he was some how related to, hopefully by marriage. There were ears everywhere and while this was accorded neutral ground as of right now, it didn't mean people didn't hear you and save those little tid bits of information to hurt you later.

"You all talk too much, I'd say have a good evening. But then that'd make me a liar." Slade said his guile starting to return to him as the pressure mounted on him.

His heart raced and his body screamed at him to just tell the truth, but he couldn't. Keira didn't know how things worked here, maybe even her friend Connor who had just approached. When at these types of parties you were guaranteed "safety." So say someone here spiked the punch with poison, most people here weren't exactly mortal or human. So for people like Keira who didn't know how to purge that poison from their bodies would die before they even saw the inside of a hospital room, and of course the host wasn't required to do anything to save their guest. Just a tragic attack on people who just happened to of died in a "attack" on everyone. Slade couldn't let any information get out or be seen being all buddy buddy with Keira or that would put him on the chopping block and focus on her to hurt him. So taking a shot of whiskey from another patron at the bar Slade grabbed it and raised it.

"To another successful Primeval Invasion." he said downing the shot and tossing the glass over his shoulder as he walked away from the group of people.

 

[Rawnie Tal'verda]

Rawnies attention was stolen by the man retching over the railing. What a way to spoil the romantic atmosphere. Not that Rawnie was very into it herself either. A hopeless romantic, Rawnie was not.

"Hey. Wanna feel something weird?" she asked, taking his hand and putting it on her stomach, "Just feel. I think it's trying to kick."

Maybe he'd feel it. Maybe he wouldn't.

[member="Doctor Azure"]

 

[Quietus]

"No more than the usual," was the simple answer. The Sith were liable to protest the moment anything within their sphere of influence was a hairsbreadth out of place, but a vast history of experience and practice in keeping them quiet went a long way in how the Queen of Kuat managed her affairs within her own sphere of influence.

The KDY had yet to stop churning out ships for the Empire since the day they came knocking. So long as the chain never broke and Kuat continued to honor its end of the treaty there was little for them to complain about.

"And my trip has only just made a turn for the better," green eyes scaled the man from polished shoes to platinum locks and back again, slowly, lips faintly curling upwards as she took another sip of her drink. She absently touched at the sapphire hanging at her neck before leaning towards him, "you'll be calling me Ane tonight."

[member="Gerion Ardik"]

 

[Blackthorne]

"I did not know we were coming to the gala. I feel underdressed."

There was a curious silence that hung in the air following those words. Loxa Visl did not look to the young man who accompanied her from Wayland, she didn't need to. Their wardrobe was considerably less than stellar for an event such as this - the Priestess maintained her usual robes and the young man wore training attire of drab brown and greys. Neither one of them were polished or primped, though made presentable enough for an audience with the Host Lord. Wayland was a dangerous and unforgiving realm even despite the new efforts raised in the unnamed valley.

"Have you been to many galas?" he asked, drawing further curiosity from the Priestess.

"This one is not here for the gala," Loxa replied bluntly, "neither are you."

"...did we not get invited?"

She did not dignify that with a response.

The pair exited the lift, stepping by the departing [member="Vaulkhar"] before making their way along the path he'd just retreated from. Through the crowds and beyond the congregation of dazzling masks they ascended the stair up to the library. The tamping of her phrik staff, a singular item she somehow was not required to part from, was all that announced their otherwise quiet arrival. White robes sweeping softly along her ankles, the woman lifted a hand to pull back her cowl as she entered the library proper, golden eyes spying the silent figure of [member="Anja Aj'Rou"] seated not far within.

"Host Lord," she greeted, stepping into a deep bow, "this one is not worthy."

Her right hand snaked up to tug her associate from his stunned daze at seeing the Host Lord in the flesh for the first time, down onto his knees where he echoed her words in a low, fumbling tone.

 

[Boethiah]

Anja's attention returned to the material world, her own eyes looked upon Loxa's face. "You have been by my side more than once," the Host Lord rose from her seat, walking towards Loxa and gesturing to her companion that he may rise. "Your worthiness was proven the moment the Gods placed you in my presence," she continued. Anja could sense that something was on Loxa's mind, although she knew not what or its nature. Presumably, it was nothing critical nor dire; as expected within the competency of someone such as her.

"I wasn't certain if you'd arrive, many of us are spread so thin in this galaxy." She was referring to the witches and Seekers within the Primeval. War with the Silver Sanctum, Mandalorians, and Republic have left their forces occupied with much. However; victory after victory has also lead to numerous successes that are incomparable to anything else. Despite their quiet, reclusive nature, the Primeval was changing into something else.

The nature of that change was yet to be revealed to the galaxy at large.

[member="Loxa Visl"]

 

[Doctor Azure]

Lor gasped again, much like when Rawnie had grabbed his butt. There really was a little bit of motion in his wife's belly. He gave her a kiss, and then smiled at the little baby bump. That was their child, sitting there, even though they didn't know if little Galaar was a girl or a boy yet.​

​

"Can't really move its legs yet, but that's some aggressive floating little Galaar's doing."​

​

He chuckled, and then blinked as his stomach growled.​

​

"Or your stomach was making noises, and the kid got annoyed."​

​

[member="Rawnie Tal'verda"] [member='Kaster Sane']​

 

[Keira Priest]

As much as Keira wanted to remain at odds with him for the rest of the night she knew it was next to impossible, even for someone like her. The simple fact that he was a familiar face was enough for her to want him around, if just for the lack of anything ordinary in her life. Even if ordinary didn't know what was best for him sometimes. "I'm not even sure if I remembered what your voice sounds like. Seven years changes things." And much more than just one's memory. Both of them were an example of that. But one thing hadn't, and that seemed to be the bad habit he'd always had and one she had eventually picked up on. Without comment she took a cigarette, lighting this one off the end of her first and stubbing the latter out. Just that brought back a flood of memories that she pushed away with the first exhale of smoke, this time directed away from him.

"Oh, kark off." The slightest of smiles turned up the corners of her mouth, a micro-expression he would no doubt pick up on with ease. "The only time I'm the center of someone's attention is when they want me dead. And you've never struck me as the romantic time. You'll need more than that to get close to winning my heart." No one had really come close in the first place, sans the one that thought it so much as probable to walk away from her. "You I'll talk to later." That was the only words she would exchange with [member="Slade Zambrano"], and telepathically nonetheless. Their true conversation would come later, removed from the general bustle that accompanied parties of this sort. For the time being this was her focus. "I don't need a reason when you decide to count yourself a part of this." She gestured to the current gathering. "Don't get so far ahead of yourself, Logan."

[member="Evor"], [member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Blackthorne]

"Asante, Host Lord," Loxa drew herself back to her feet with a short glance to her associate before turning her attention fully upon Anja, "this one wishes not to displease-"

"We're not here for the gala," the young with beside her spoke, the words having slipped out likely without him meaning to interject. His own gaze grew wide, drawing upwards only towards Loxa in an apologetic expression. He'd yet to look [member="Anja Aj'Rou"] in the eye.

"... the timing is curious. This one has come to discuss the progress of Wayland," a pause for Loxa to ascertain the reaction of the Host Lord before pressing on, "and to seek the help of the Host Lord, if it is no trouble."

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Rawnie Tal'verda]

She felt such pride in this, in her body, in the growing child in her womb. Rawnie was guessing she was about fifteen weeks along. But it really could be any amount of time, for all she knew. She was so tiny, it had taken forever for the baby to show. And now she had movement. A real sign of life.

"I guess ad'ika is hungry too," she smiled, getting off his lap to move to the seat across from him, "So. Are you hoping for a boy, or a girl? I know some people have a preference..."

Rawnie didn't. Either way, the child would be raised the same by her.

[member="Doctor Azure"]

 

[Boethiah]

Anja's attention was focused too greatly on [member="Loxa Visl"] for her to notice the mumbling of a servant. Great curiosity was placed on the witch's progress on Wayland and the inevitable outcomes of its success. That was all assuming it would succeed; if the Host Lord could help then she'd be willing to do so. "What assistance do you require?" She asked inquisitively, it all depended on if Anja had the resources Loxa required.

Of course resources weren't something hard to come by in Wild Space, yet somehow she didn't expect Loxa to ask for labourers or raw materials. A witch was always walking the unbeaten path, discovering secrets and unlocking mysteries.

If she did need raw materials, however, it may have been better to cut a deal with the Warlord of the Rift... Although deals with him always lead to uncertainty.