Populate A Winter's Blessing | THR Life and Name Day Thread [Resource Hex]

[Shade]

Shade accepted the mug from his hand with a quiet nod, fingers closing around the warmth as if she'd been aware of the cold only after it was gone. The steam curled faintly between them, carrying the soft sweetness of cocoa, and she took a measured sip—more out of acknowledgment than need—before her gaze followed Elian's retreat through the crowd.

There was no surprise in her expression at Cassian's assessment. If anything, the faintest lift of her brow suggested agreement.

"He is," she said calmly. "Impressing someone. Possibly himself."

The corner of her mouth shifted—not quite a smile, but close enough to register as one for anyone who knew her. Cassian's nudge earned a brief sideways glance, crimson eyes steady, amused in a way that didn't require emphasis.

"Practice is rarely wasted," she added, tone even. "Especially when ambition is involved."

Her attention moved to the competitors as his had, noting posture and balance, the way some overcompensated. In contrast, others underestimated the axe's weight or the bow's pull. She watched without judgment, simply cataloguing, the way she always did.

When Cassian gestured toward the lantern-lit stretch of the market, Shade followed the motion with her eyes, then returned her gaze to him. She didn't hesitate. She adjusted her pace to match his without comment, the shared movement an answer in itself.

"That would be agreeable," she said softly.

As they turned away from the contests and toward the glow and music, she took another small sip of the drink, then spoke again, quieter, meant only for him.

"Thank you. For the warmth."

It applied to more than the mug—but she left it there, walking beside him into the lights of Life Day, content to take the evening as it came.

Cassian Abrantes

 

[Isla Reingard]

Isla dragged herself fully upright, brushing snow from her sleeves with sharp, irritated swipes. Her ribs protested immediately and she sucked in a breath through her teeth, then waved it off when Phillip came skidding toward her, pale and frantic.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, a little too sharp. "I'm annoyed. There's a difference."

Her eyes flicked to the bag clutched to Phillip's chest and narrowed. "Where did you go?" she demanded. "You were supposed to grab the bag and follow me. Not… vanish with it like some kind of very polite goblin."

She took a step closer, lowering her voice but not her intensity. "I had him. I almost had him."

Then Elian spoke again, far too cheerful for someone who had just been used as a landing pad. Isla turned and smacked him flat-handed in the chest. Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to make a point.

"Oh don't," she said, rolling her eyes. "I know exactly who you are, Easy E."

She looked him up and down, unimpressed. "You absolutely got in my way. I was one step away from grabbing him and instead I got launched into you like a thrown pillow."

She gestured vaguely back toward the market, where the crowd had already swallowed the chaos. Music and laughter carried on like nothing had happened, which somehow made it worse. She groaned and tipped her head back. "Well chit is right."

Isla looked down at herself, at the wet snow soaking through her coat and the slush clinging to her boots. She flexed her shoulder, winced, then sighed.

"I'm freezing, I'm soaked, I smell like market snow," she muttered. "And the thief got away."

Phillip Slate | Elian Abrantes​

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Dominic Praxon //: Solaina Embarri //:

"How unfestive," Quinn chirped in response to Dominic's reassurance.

She hummed along as Ms. Chief Engineer explained her experience. In truth, Quinn didn't care how accomplished the woman was. Part of her hoped she wasn't experienced at all — perhaps then this little venture of the Republic's would fail spectacularly. A sizable portion of whatever military force Dominic was gathering, Isotope-5 for, would be wiped from the galaxy.

Fewer problems for the Princess. It is easier for the Empire to cut through its eastern neighbors.

Ms. Embarri mentioned plasma, which did catch Quinn's interest. While the Empire had access to Isotope-5, power of that magnitude wasn't always necessary. Plasma access would be useful — something she could even divert toward Black Sun. Another chip to slide across the table in her dealings with the Underworld Prince.

She didn't acknowledge much more of the woman's explanation, offering only a polite smile. Quinn kept her eyes on the pair and those gathered around them. Though Dominic reassured her she wouldn't be arrested, she kept her reservations. Mr. Praxon was a politician, and politicians were more untrustworthy than Sith.

When Dominic lifted the canvas doorway, Quinn paused, letting her senses stretch outward for a brief moment. It seemed safe enough, and the man appeared to be telling the truth. Still, she remained alert as she stepped inside. The space was open, warmer than outside — which, she hoped, might settle whatever errant energy bounced between them. Both Dominic and Solaina were beginning to irritate her with it, but she made no outward show of it.

Quinn removed her jacket and draped it over the back of a nearby chair, her gaze sweeping the accommodations.

"Classy," she remarked with a soft smile.

"I hope negotiations don't take too long. I do plan on admiring a bit of the Republic's festivities, in particular. There's someone I'm hoping to run into." Quinn sounded almost cheerful as she slipped off her dark gloves. Unlike the rest of her attire, they were noticeably worn.

She removed them carefully, finger by finger, before tucking them into her coat pocket.

"Now that we're away from the prying eyes of your fellows," she continued, turning her attention back to Dominic, "what exactly do you have to offer me, Mr. Praxon? As we both know, the only viable source of Isotope-5 at present runs through me."

Her smile sharpened as she considered the complications between the Republic and Black Sun. They held Mauve du Vain in their custody. Quinn doubted Praxon had enough pull to free her without drawing attention — too many eyes would be watching.

Meanwhile, Black Sun held the Chancellor.

Messy and inconvenient. But beneficial to the Sith, for now.

"I'm all ears for how you plan to trade," she added lightly, "or you could always remain in my debt."

Another sickeningly sweet smile.

"I promise not to tell."