We Are One
Trading Conglomerate Space;
Orbital Trading Center;
Inner Chambers.
[member="Grimm"] | [member="Macharius Solaire"] | [member="Killian"] | [member="William Kerkov"]
[member="Azreal "]| [member="Bhaltair Dhimani"] | [member="Drax Thorin"] | [member="Seanna Vel"] | [member="sabrina"]
She almost found the whole ordeal to be unneeded, and yet Xenia couldn't skirt that unmistakeable prickling feeling she assumed anyone might feel before placing oneself in front of so many important dignitaries and business men of the higher echelons. She had been apprised of numerous big names, men and women of both human and alien origin who, for some reason or another had made themselves well known not only to herself but surely the others gathered here. High ranking members of other, non hostile factions. Company men of well to do trades, skilled workers, experienced politicians and far more experienced liars. She was no different herself but for one point. The derivative of her own popularity hadn't come from her expertise, at least not at first. She had only acquired her now omnipresent reputation in the more recent years, in her time with Nastass-Tech and even more recently the Trade Conglomerate.
Even separated by a thick wall, Xenia could hear the booming encore of Jaster's voice and the then louder thunder of applause. It had been like this for longer than she liked, time only feeding the butterflies which flocked about in the lower regions of her abdomen, an anxiety which bloomed into charisma in the eyes of publicity. Her garb was anything but simple, a combination of Naboo's extremities and the Conglomerate's own colors. Multiple layers of sleek shimmer-silk covered her like a dress, synched and made to fit comfortably around her figure. Greens and whites, transparent veils and more proper under layers. Her hair was woven in a chaotic system of streaming braids, wrapped then again like a tiara around the base of her head and leaving the rest to cascade down her back in thick waves of deep browns and lighter blacks. Green eyes burned with a fire as bright as blaster bolts, caught in a stunning surround of fierce but intricate paints and make up. Crimson red lines streaking at angles set to define her features, her cheeks, the razor edge of her jaw. White painted mouth, save for the red descent centering the bottom lip and bisecting it, pure enough in color to have mimicked a human's blood.
The last spur of noise marked the end of Jaster's time on stage and the beginning of Xenia's own. With a short and needless gesture from one of the men waiting with her, she breached the entrance at the stage's rear most angle and let the lights set fire to her visage. It had always been there though never defined to a point of justice, that way in which she beheld the others there. The glinting pleasure she knew made manifest in her appearance when so many looked upon her. The giddy, almost contagious sense of fun and unbridled possibility she conveyed even without words. Some of the noises were too boisterous for the strict business class, roars along the crowd's back most layers suggesting a following of more than respect, but delighted entertainment. Many called her name to the beating thrust of pumping fists. Many more still attempted to quell those beside them and let the woman begin speaking. Eager to hear what she might divulge, hungry for whatever she offered, and starving for the chance at partnership.
"Greetings," she started softly, a voice made loud not by her but by the audio systems she spoke into. Her own voice came back in tempting echoes, bouncing off the room's rounder features and giving the speaker an heir of unspoken promise. The whole experience was surreal to her, even while expected and planned. Thought out and prepared for. So many faces and eyes hidden by the bright lights which shone down upon her. A stage's attempt to make combat with fright or any other deterrent a speaker might face- though she had never felt pressure from the thousands of eyes staring back up at her. Xenia's fear came from the chairs which weren't filled, though there were none of those here. In fact, for hours Jaster's people had been made to filter out more personnel than the room was meant to hold and even still there was a posterior lining of bipedal organics on their feet. Xenia was pleased to see them here, raising her arms as if to take it in though with the combined effect of sending silence slithering like snakes through the arena.
"Your warm welcomes are well received." She needn't thank them for coming, those gathered here were hoping to make their own profit. Practically begging to enlist in the Conglomerates generous programs, begging to sponsor such lucrative figureheads and take a portion of the credit. Xenia knew that, they knew that. "Truly it is I who should be introducing Jaster and his successes, as well as many other names I haven't the time to mention. I don't know that I've seen someone work so hard on so few hours of sleep without being a droid." Again Xenia lifted her embrace to the room around her, more than that, the trading station itself, rich in its design. An empathetic though manageable secondary applause clapped like a storms rainfall against tin roofing, dying with the same speed which brought it on.
"When first Jaster suggested I fill the position I was on Iskeria, in armor and at negative temperatures, in a blizzard no less, regarding him curiously for wanting me to represent such a position of prestige. I had just lead the," and Xenia gave accent to the word "successful reclaiming of our property there. I had a gun in my hands when he informed me of the Directorate's will-- I think I was still shooting, actually. Strangest interview I've ever had." The light smile on her face allowed the audience to giggle and laugh at the re-telling, pointing their gaze gaze from first Xenia to Jaster and back again, regarding the smiles and obvious familiarity shared between the two. Neither would deny Xenia's re telling, only nod and continue with the audience's adopted comfort.
"Since that time we've been busy. We've taken territory, we've advanced our sciences, secured our military presence, drawn connections to powerful allies. We've developed one of the largest trade empires the unknown regions have seen in decades. We've provided work and pay to residents of outlying worlds, feeding the very same central economies we then provide for in material goods. We've secured rings of protection along our most revered routes and created a resistance which cannot be opposed."
As she spoke the shined metal bodies of NN unit droids lined the stage's rear quarters, armed but only in aesthetic show. Men in uniform forming rows behind her and various blown up display screens projecting images of prosperous words, relations with the political leaders therein and examples of the Conglomerate's own success. Each member of the board had at least one appearance, kind though stern portrayals, some on their own world and surrounded in their own product, others leading troops against small scale resistances.
"So what makes us different than the galactic powers, you ask. Why spend time here when you could just plug yourself into the Republic's commerce guilds, the edgy approach of the Sith or the head over heels Techno Union? Why take part here? Because why suffer the bloated boundaries of such core systems. Why swim through the oppressive taxes and tariffs, or the loads of red tape and restrictions. Why involve yourself in a system of sale where you work, you pay, and you receive only the least of their concern. They don't require the same driving force, they run on rules and techniques made perverse over their long years of existence. They run on their own machines, their own preferences, they have the companies they need. They take the workers to run them, or breed them or synthesize them. We are made powerful by you, and in turn you by us. We're not at war as they are. We seek no ulterior motives, and we defend our own."
Guns, battle droids, clean lines of military provision played out on the screens around her. Her face, Jaster's face, hopeful planets and heart warming depictions of aid. Conglomerate doctors and nurses on their knees to treat those plagued to a point of unrecognized distortion. Good images, powerful images, and she rode the momentum they provided as if she had picked the exact moment each image appeared so as best to convey the meaning in her words. "The more we are offered, the more we can give back," Xenia summarized atop the trills of applause. Those who had come were already interested prospectors, she didn't have to convince them of anything factual so much as stoke the fires which already warned them and illuminated their excitement.
"With my position I will further our progression into both unknown space and towards the rich core worlds. I will help free us from an obscurity which is already being drained. Together we will tear down the mantle of superiority these violent powers have crafted themselves and insert real business in their place. We fight for a fairness they find threatening, but cannot stop or openly oppose. They the Sith, they the Republic, they the bloated guilds who lobby for ever more dominance over the trade market of today. I ask only for your continued support as we prove ourselves time and time again, in each and every endeavor."
There was a growing swell of climactic enthusiasm, some clapped, other sat at the edge of their seats in silence. "We will not fail you, our friends and associates. I will not fail you, this Conglomerate, will not fail you..."
Orbital Trading Center;
Inner Chambers.
[member="Grimm"] | [member="Macharius Solaire"] | [member="Killian"] | [member="William Kerkov"]
[member="Azreal "]| [member="Bhaltair Dhimani"] | [member="Drax Thorin"] | [member="Seanna Vel"] | [member="sabrina"]
She almost found the whole ordeal to be unneeded, and yet Xenia couldn't skirt that unmistakeable prickling feeling she assumed anyone might feel before placing oneself in front of so many important dignitaries and business men of the higher echelons. She had been apprised of numerous big names, men and women of both human and alien origin who, for some reason or another had made themselves well known not only to herself but surely the others gathered here. High ranking members of other, non hostile factions. Company men of well to do trades, skilled workers, experienced politicians and far more experienced liars. She was no different herself but for one point. The derivative of her own popularity hadn't come from her expertise, at least not at first. She had only acquired her now omnipresent reputation in the more recent years, in her time with Nastass-Tech and even more recently the Trade Conglomerate.
Even separated by a thick wall, Xenia could hear the booming encore of Jaster's voice and the then louder thunder of applause. It had been like this for longer than she liked, time only feeding the butterflies which flocked about in the lower regions of her abdomen, an anxiety which bloomed into charisma in the eyes of publicity. Her garb was anything but simple, a combination of Naboo's extremities and the Conglomerate's own colors. Multiple layers of sleek shimmer-silk covered her like a dress, synched and made to fit comfortably around her figure. Greens and whites, transparent veils and more proper under layers. Her hair was woven in a chaotic system of streaming braids, wrapped then again like a tiara around the base of her head and leaving the rest to cascade down her back in thick waves of deep browns and lighter blacks. Green eyes burned with a fire as bright as blaster bolts, caught in a stunning surround of fierce but intricate paints and make up. Crimson red lines streaking at angles set to define her features, her cheeks, the razor edge of her jaw. White painted mouth, save for the red descent centering the bottom lip and bisecting it, pure enough in color to have mimicked a human's blood.
The last spur of noise marked the end of Jaster's time on stage and the beginning of Xenia's own. With a short and needless gesture from one of the men waiting with her, she breached the entrance at the stage's rear most angle and let the lights set fire to her visage. It had always been there though never defined to a point of justice, that way in which she beheld the others there. The glinting pleasure she knew made manifest in her appearance when so many looked upon her. The giddy, almost contagious sense of fun and unbridled possibility she conveyed even without words. Some of the noises were too boisterous for the strict business class, roars along the crowd's back most layers suggesting a following of more than respect, but delighted entertainment. Many called her name to the beating thrust of pumping fists. Many more still attempted to quell those beside them and let the woman begin speaking. Eager to hear what she might divulge, hungry for whatever she offered, and starving for the chance at partnership.
"Greetings," she started softly, a voice made loud not by her but by the audio systems she spoke into. Her own voice came back in tempting echoes, bouncing off the room's rounder features and giving the speaker an heir of unspoken promise. The whole experience was surreal to her, even while expected and planned. Thought out and prepared for. So many faces and eyes hidden by the bright lights which shone down upon her. A stage's attempt to make combat with fright or any other deterrent a speaker might face- though she had never felt pressure from the thousands of eyes staring back up at her. Xenia's fear came from the chairs which weren't filled, though there were none of those here. In fact, for hours Jaster's people had been made to filter out more personnel than the room was meant to hold and even still there was a posterior lining of bipedal organics on their feet. Xenia was pleased to see them here, raising her arms as if to take it in though with the combined effect of sending silence slithering like snakes through the arena.
"Your warm welcomes are well received." She needn't thank them for coming, those gathered here were hoping to make their own profit. Practically begging to enlist in the Conglomerates generous programs, begging to sponsor such lucrative figureheads and take a portion of the credit. Xenia knew that, they knew that. "Truly it is I who should be introducing Jaster and his successes, as well as many other names I haven't the time to mention. I don't know that I've seen someone work so hard on so few hours of sleep without being a droid." Again Xenia lifted her embrace to the room around her, more than that, the trading station itself, rich in its design. An empathetic though manageable secondary applause clapped like a storms rainfall against tin roofing, dying with the same speed which brought it on.
"When first Jaster suggested I fill the position I was on Iskeria, in armor and at negative temperatures, in a blizzard no less, regarding him curiously for wanting me to represent such a position of prestige. I had just lead the," and Xenia gave accent to the word "successful reclaiming of our property there. I had a gun in my hands when he informed me of the Directorate's will-- I think I was still shooting, actually. Strangest interview I've ever had." The light smile on her face allowed the audience to giggle and laugh at the re-telling, pointing their gaze gaze from first Xenia to Jaster and back again, regarding the smiles and obvious familiarity shared between the two. Neither would deny Xenia's re telling, only nod and continue with the audience's adopted comfort.
"Since that time we've been busy. We've taken territory, we've advanced our sciences, secured our military presence, drawn connections to powerful allies. We've developed one of the largest trade empires the unknown regions have seen in decades. We've provided work and pay to residents of outlying worlds, feeding the very same central economies we then provide for in material goods. We've secured rings of protection along our most revered routes and created a resistance which cannot be opposed."
As she spoke the shined metal bodies of NN unit droids lined the stage's rear quarters, armed but only in aesthetic show. Men in uniform forming rows behind her and various blown up display screens projecting images of prosperous words, relations with the political leaders therein and examples of the Conglomerate's own success. Each member of the board had at least one appearance, kind though stern portrayals, some on their own world and surrounded in their own product, others leading troops against small scale resistances.
"So what makes us different than the galactic powers, you ask. Why spend time here when you could just plug yourself into the Republic's commerce guilds, the edgy approach of the Sith or the head over heels Techno Union? Why take part here? Because why suffer the bloated boundaries of such core systems. Why swim through the oppressive taxes and tariffs, or the loads of red tape and restrictions. Why involve yourself in a system of sale where you work, you pay, and you receive only the least of their concern. They don't require the same driving force, they run on rules and techniques made perverse over their long years of existence. They run on their own machines, their own preferences, they have the companies they need. They take the workers to run them, or breed them or synthesize them. We are made powerful by you, and in turn you by us. We're not at war as they are. We seek no ulterior motives, and we defend our own."
Guns, battle droids, clean lines of military provision played out on the screens around her. Her face, Jaster's face, hopeful planets and heart warming depictions of aid. Conglomerate doctors and nurses on their knees to treat those plagued to a point of unrecognized distortion. Good images, powerful images, and she rode the momentum they provided as if she had picked the exact moment each image appeared so as best to convey the meaning in her words. "The more we are offered, the more we can give back," Xenia summarized atop the trills of applause. Those who had come were already interested prospectors, she didn't have to convince them of anything factual so much as stoke the fires which already warned them and illuminated their excitement.
"With my position I will further our progression into both unknown space and towards the rich core worlds. I will help free us from an obscurity which is already being drained. Together we will tear down the mantle of superiority these violent powers have crafted themselves and insert real business in their place. We fight for a fairness they find threatening, but cannot stop or openly oppose. They the Sith, they the Republic, they the bloated guilds who lobby for ever more dominance over the trade market of today. I ask only for your continued support as we prove ourselves time and time again, in each and every endeavor."
There was a growing swell of climactic enthusiasm, some clapped, other sat at the edge of their seats in silence. "We will not fail you, our friends and associates. I will not fail you, this Conglomerate, will not fail you..."