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

[Sibylla Abrantes]

Objective I - Lights of the Ovli Market​

Interacting with: Dominique Vexx
Mood: I'd make the best ice sculpture!

"Oh, now that is fascinating. I did not even consider that there would be different ways it would be celebrated on the surface and on the lower levels," Sibylla admitted. And truly, when she thought about it, it made sense. Much like Coruscant, Denon was a city world with massive city blocks spanning multiple tiers.

And while she had never visited Coruscant -- especially now that it was under Empire rule -- ecumenopolises were always a curious curio to a native of Naboo who was used to meadows, fields, mountains, and lakes instead of an endless industrial skyline.

"Are there any green areas on Denon?" she asked in passing, the idle thought slipping out before she could rein it in. It was quickly swallowed up by a light, joyful laugh.

"Well, I would desire you to seek no less than first place. If needed, I am prepared to offer myself as tribute to ensure your win." Sibylla teased, a wry smile flashing pearly white teeth at the Denonite as she continued to chuckle.

I certainly can't imagine walking with anyone else, Dominique realayed, and Sibylla's eyes shone with mischievous mirth.

"Ah, now you are feeding my ego... somewhere Chancellor Aurelian Veruna 's ears are prickling at an opportunity lost to make some outrageously brazen quip." She flashed Dominique a quick, conspiratorial wink.

Her laughter shifted into incredulity as she realized there was an actual crowd forming to present gifts and offer well wishes to Lady von Ascania.

"Well... remind me next time to ask if there is a quick pass option for such events," she joked, amused even as she let her gaze wander across the gathered guests. Her attention, however, snapped sharply at the sudden whinnying of hoofbeats and... was that a horse?

There was no time to think. Sibylla darted back, instinctively pulling Dominique with her, just as a white horse barreled past them in a flurry of snow and startled shouts.

"What in blessed Shiraya..." Sibylla exclaimed, eyes wide as the horse and its poorly balanced rider vanished into the crowd. The distinct whinny that followed -- and the sudden distant thud -- made it quite clear that the rider was no longer riding anything at all.

Not that he had been doing a particularly good job of it in the first place.

"That was one thing I did not expect," she laughed, shaking her head. "Goodness, are you alright?"

 

[Ala Quin]

His staff swept toward her midline, and Ala darted aside...or rather, she attempted to dart aside.

Her boot slid in the snow, her heavy coat tugged stubbornly in the opposite direction, and she made a tiny, scandalised sound that absolutely did not belong to the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. “Lorn!” she huffed, batting his strike away with her overly padded arm and an indignantly muffled grunt. “I can’t move in this...but I refuse to dress like you!”

She corrected her footing with an awkward hop that sent a puff of snow flying. Somehow, impossibly, her staff still found his with clean precision, the impact sharp despite the chaos of fabric and fur.

Her hood slid halfway over her eyes. She pushed it back with the heel of her mitten.

“Not the best time to be an ataru specialist...huh?!” she added, breathless, bright, and very much not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered.

Except she was. In the most Ala way possible.

She tried, clumsily, to spin the bow staff over her head, and then step forward into a long distance strike...holding just the end of the staff. It was slow...painfully so...and she missed him completely.

"BAH! FINE!" She said, tugging off her scarf and throwing it to the side. "At least let me move my head."

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |
​

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Objective III
Tags: Ala Quin​

Lorn watched her boot slide on the ice. Her whole bundled-up form wobbled like an affronted snow owl, and a sound he couldn't control escaped him. It wasn't exactly dignified.

A laugh, almost boyish, broke free before he could stop it. "I warned you," he said, easily blocking her flailing attempt. His staff met hers with a firm, practiced snap, and his smile remained impossibly soft. "You're absolutely overdressed for sparring. But did you listen? Of course not."

She lunged again, or at least made a valiant effort. Lorn eased back, letting her miss him by a heroic margin. The swing passed through empty air, slow enough that he could have sidestepped twice and still had time to ponder his life choices.

Then came a tiny, furious "BAH!" The scarf was ripped off and tossed aside like a dramatic declaration of war.

That did it. He laughed outright, the sound warm and unguarded. He watched her huff and adjust herself. Force help him, she was too adorable for him to even pretend to take advantage of her frustration.

He lifted his staff but didn't advance. Instead, he tilted his head, his expression alight with mischief. "Ah," he said solemnly, "yes. The scarf. Clearly the true opponent in this fight." He gestured lightly with the staff, inviting her in. "Now that it's gone, Miss Grandmaster, I'm in real danger. Please, do your worst."

 

[Roman Vossari]

​

Objective I
TAGS: Liana Organa

​

Roman puffed himself up, what little of him wasn't already bruised. "Yeah, it's a fact," he said, dusting snow off his jacket. "Though being a big deal around here is, y'know, like being a big deal around a bakery."

A tiny smirk tugged at his mouth. Aiden Porte would've had a field day with that comparison; the guy collected pastries and reputation in equal measure. Roman blinked the thought away before it could soften him too much.

He turned back to the mare, fumbling. "She's a present. For me." After a beat, he grimaced. "No. No, not for me. But the actual recipient isn't gonna appreciate her nearly as much as I will, so... borrowing? I definitely didn't steal her..."

The mare leaned into Liana's hand again, ditching Roman without hesitation. He pointed at her, defeated. "See? She's made her choice. Here, take the reins before she throws both of us."

As he handed them over, Roman noticed the drink staining the snow. He crouched, scooping a bit up with two fingers like he was gathering forensic evidence, and sniffed it thoughtfully.

"Hot chocolate. Tragedy." He stood, already turning toward the nearest booth. "I'm getting you another one. I caused it, so it's a moral obligation. Like... Life Day karma."

He stepped up to the stall and glanced back at her, eyebrow raised. "So, whats your name? Where're you from that you're a big deal? And how big of a deal are we talkin'? Bakery level? Or like..." He gestured vaguely toward the palace in the distance. "...full royal-tier big deal?"

 

[Isla Reingard]

Objective II

Isla was ready, primed to throw a devastatingly superior shot purely out of spite. And then Phillip started counting lanterns. Out loud.

"One… two…"

Her focus shattered like cheap glass. The axe left her hand half a second too early, spinning wide until it buried itself in a wooden support beam a solid distance from the target.

"Oh, for kriff's sake," she hissed, cheeks flushing hot under the winter chill.

Phillip's bright grin did not help. His gentle, maddeningly earnest encouragement didn't ease her irritation either. The fact that he didn't even laugh was somehow worse.

"Stop, stop being nice," she snapped, fighting a smile as she stalked back. "I cannot throw axes while you're being wholesome. It's distracting. Weaponized sincerity."

He stepped up for his turn, talking big about how pettiness doesn't get you anywhere, and Isla crossed her arms, fully prepared to watch him get smug. Except he missed. It wasn't even a respectable miss, it was spectacular. The axe hit the snow with a sad little thwump, bouncing like it was embarrassed for him.

Isla blinked once. Then twice. "Wow. Incredible form. Truly inspiring. You've reinvented gravity." She clapped slowly, the picture of deadpan admiration.

"Hey, you said it," she said brightly, poking his shoulder. "Pettiness doesn't get you anywhere. But apparently whatever that was doesn't either."

Her competitiveness flared, warm and sharp in her chest. She wasn't about to let either of them be the joke of Ukatis tonight.

"Alright. My turn. No distractions. No counting. No being earnest."

She tugged her gloves tighter. She bent to set her bag on the packed snow beside them, putting it far enough away not to smack with an axe by accident, before stepping up to the throwing line again. She rolled her shoulders and centered her breath.

"This one," she said, shooting him a quick smirk, "is going dead center. Watch and learn."

Phillip Slate | Abishai Jade​

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Objective II
Tags: Adelle Bastiel

Aurelian's second axe was already in his hand when the sting of the first throw caught up with him. It had veered embarrassingly wide, more flourish than precision. It was a classic case of his confidence tripping over itself, and he winced, subtle but undeniable.

"Clearly," he muttered under his breath, "I'm warming up."

Adelle's next throw landed close to her first, steady and irritatingly competent. He stepped sideways as Phantom drifted toward his boots, her expression one of regal entitlement. He pivoted around her like she had diplomatic immunity. Apparently, she did.

"Careful," he told the spukami, flicking the axe in his hand. "I'm fairly certain you outrank half the Senate at this point."

Phantom chirped something that sounded distinctly self-satisfied.

He shot Adelle a look. "You know, it's occurred to me, the only two times I've seen you were at my parties. On two different worlds." His grin sharpened. "I should start charging you an appearance fee."

He rolled the axe along his fingers, controlling the weapon with more seriousness now. He let the easy bravado simmer into focus. Her "slumming it" quip echoed back, and he clicked his tongue.

"Slumming it?" he repeated, stepping into place. "These are my people. Surely I have to make an appearance everywhere, even the slums."

He drew a breath, shoulders settling. "But yes," he added, voice dropping to something quieter, more honest, "it's nice to walk through my own celebration instead of standing on that stuffy dais with people who only want things from me."

He didn't linger on the admission. He never lingered on anything that even hinted at sincerity. Instead, he snapped back into motion: weight forward, arm loose, aim tightening with real intent this time.

He threw.

​

 

[Phillip Slate]

Tags: Isla Reingard Abishai Jade

"But being nice is my entire thing. We both know that if I stopped, you'd think something was wrong with me. And I'm completely a-okay. Out here, hanging out with my best friend."

Phillip kept the wide grin on his face, as he continued to tease Isla away. Slowly but surely, the nerves and awkwardness was melting away like snow under a warm breeze...Before it all came crumbling down around him. Isla had wanted him to stop being wholesome. To stop being distracting. And...she would get her request, as Phillip missed. Terribly. He had thought he done the technique perfectly. Reduce the amount of power he was adding, so that it wouldn't spin as much...but instead it had landed pathetically in the snow. It didn't even land head first, it bounced. And with that...Phillip just crawled into himself.

He didn't even react as Isla had poked him in the shoulder. Maybe it would have been better if he had. Even if it was to just push her away. Instead Phillip felt his cheeks burning a bright red. Not from the cold, no. But from embarrassment. He didn't want to screw up in Isla. There was a part of him that didn't understand why. They were friends. It was normal to mess up in front of your friends. But there was a part of him that had wanted to show off. But he was making himself more and more of a joke.

"Kriffing kark."

Cursing had never suited Phillip. But he didn't deal with embarrassment well. He already thought he was a joke to most people. To his family. To the masters. But he couldn't let himself focus on that. Today was meant to be a good day. It was just a competition? Did it really matter?...He did his best to ignore the voice in the back of his mind saying it was important,

"...Better luck next throw."

Phillip muttered quietly to himself, as Isla's next throw went wide. It was his turn to go up after her. That little nudging from the Force that insisted something was watching him pushed to the back of his mind as Phillip took the axe in his hand, trying to figure out how he wanted to throw it. Power was wrong. Technique was wrong. He just took in a deep breath, deciding to just...go with the Flow. Go with the Force.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Axilla, Ukatis
Tags: Aurelian Veruna

Adelle waited until after he had thrown before saying anything--she didn't want him to be able to accuse her of cheating or distracting him, although he might try that anyway. The second throw was an improvement on the first but both she and Aurelian weren't near enough to the center of the target. Ah well, this was for fun anyway and the banter was far more entertaining. A wry smile twisted her mouth momentarily--how many of those he'd just complained about would have envied her position? She tucked his moment of honesty away, getting the feeling that those moments weren't simply handed out often.

"I'm pleased to know you think Phantom is far better company," Adelle said, acknowledging the moment while trying not to draw too much attention to it. "Celebrations are always better with people that you like. Or at least can tolerate. Better still when there's alcohol involved and that will broaden the definition of tolerable considerably."

She leaned down to coax Phantom over to her and out of being underfoot with Aurelian, rubbing the feline's chin and face. "As far as parties go, you saw me on Nessantico as well if you were watching the jousts. But start charging and you'll no doubt deprive Sibylla of the opportunities to reconnect with Phantom, which I'm sure she would absolutely forgive you for."

The last axe and throw waited for her. Come what may, she was glad she showed up. Granted, she ought to at least congratulate the expecting couple if not give a small gift to the baby to be. Adelle had the credits: she hadn't been on Thyferra for charity.

She picked up the axe and flung it at the target. As soon as she had, Phantom jumped and climbed up the back of her coat, very nearly curling into a ball on one shoulder. <<Ground cold.>>

"Well that's all three for me," she said. "I didn't realize the Republic was so hard up for credits, but if you insist on a cover charge for your parties, perhaps a drink will cover my fee?"

 

[Ala Quin]

Something pinched in her expressio, a spark of actual irritation beneath the layers of pink-nosed cheer. Just for a heartbeat, Ala Quin, bundle of winter fluff and mischief, narrowed her eyes.

And she jabbed.

A sharp, precise snap of the staff’s butt end forward—instinctive, lightning-quick, and aimed directly at the center of him. The impact landed with a solid thunk against bare muscle.

Right in the fifth ab. The one she…may or may not have named.

Her breath caught. Her eyes went huge. “Oh...oh no...Lorn!”

Her staff clattered into the snow as she rushed forward, mittened hands hovering uselessly over his torso. “Are you okay? Did I hurt...oh stars...did I hurt Harry?!”

The moment the name left her mouth, her entire soul seemed to leave her body.

Her face went scarlet. “I mean...not Harry...well, yes, Harry, but...not...LOOK, IT JUST—IT LOOKED LIKE A HARRY AND I PANICKED!”

She gently pressed a mitten to the spot she hit, which accomplished absolutely nothing except making the situation infinitely worse.

Her voice pitched up, flustered and frantic:
“Don’t tense! Let me...let me check! Oh Force, I can’t even feel anything through these stupid mittens...why am I like this...”

She fussed over him in a whirlwind of wool, worry, and mortification, completely forgetting that they were in the middle of a duel and that half the settlement was watching the Grandmaster cradle a Jedi Knight’s abdomen like she’d injured a sacred relic.

| Tag: Lorn Reingard |
​

 

[Abishai Jade]

Ukatis crowds flowed like sluggish river water. They were too slow, too loud, and always in the karking way. But for once, they proved useful.

Isla stepped forward, boots carving a confident line into the snow. Phillip hovered beside her, shoulders hunched with the desperate optimism of someone trying to recover from social disaster. Both of them were staring straight ahead at the target board. No one was looking behind them.

Perfect.

Abishai slipped out from between two bundled festival-goers, hood low, stolen drink steaming in his hand. He walked with purpose but not speed. He fut un with the flow. A casual pivot, a feigned glance at the ground, and then he crouched as though picking up something he’d dropped.

His fingers closed around the strap of Isla’s bag.

No notice from the crowd.

Just the crackle of nearby lanterns and Phillip’s voice drifting, unbearably cheerful. "Out here, hanging out with my best friend."

The words hit Abishai like a stun bolt behind the ribs. His hand froze for a split second. Best friend. Kriffing best friend. He didn’t know why that bothered him so much. He didn’t want it too, but it scraped at something raw and unguarded inside him.

Too late to stop now.

He rose smoothly, the bag tucked under his arm, vanishing back into the slow-moving crowd as if he’d always been part of it. A few weaving steps later, he ducked behind a vendor stall overflowing with cheap cider.

Only then did he open the bag.

There. A flicker of warmth pulsed against his palm the moment he touched it, the kyber. His kyber. The one he’d bled for, nearly broken his ankle over, nearly crashed a karking Quadjumper retrieving.

He exhaled, tension spilling out in a single sharp breath.

Without hesitation, he pocketed the crystal, the familiar thrum settling against his thigh like a heartbeat finally returned.

But the bag remained in his hands.

He stared at it, jaw tight. Isla would lose her mind if she realized it was gone. Phillip would probably cry, or apologize to the snow, or both. And as much as he hated to admit it, Abishai wasn’t trying to ruin her night.

Just…reclaim what was his.

He tugged the hood lower, scowl carving deep across his face.

Fine.

He’d slip the bag back. Quietly. Before they even noticed. No harm, no foul, no reason for her to go shrieking across Ukatis about thieves.

And no reason for him to care this much.

Kriffing Ukatis. Kriffing crowds. Kriffing...

Time to move.

Phillip Slate Isla Reingard
​

 

[Makai Dashiell]

OVLI MARKET

Wearing | Gear : X | X | X | X | X | L3-37 | Interacting With : Myra Arceneau Dashiell

​

Makai rolled his eyes at the mention of the science kit. He wasn't sure why he still bought them for their daughter. Horribly mislabeled or just poor quality. He had been tempted to pick up a crystal making kit. One could do it with certain chemicals but chemicals and toddlers didn't mix. Maybe the one for children would be worth it this time.

“No. Although I did consider a terrarium for frogs but I think she is too young. Even kept in my office I would worry. Then considering we are moving sooner rather than later… I almost got one for Kellan since the boy is more nature minded but…”

Makai let his words trail off. Ellie knew how he felt about his half-brother's raising of his nephew. She was the only one who knew his true thoughts and displeasure at the direction Bale seemed to be taking the boy. Growing up all too fast in the name of religion. Brows furrowed slightly and he finally gave a shake of his head.

“Maybe in the new house. Maybe when she's a little older. I haven't seen any real interest in her for such a thing." Their daughter was overall bright and curious but hadn't latched on to much beyond language lessons. She had yet to be obsessed with one thing like himself. All in due time. "Perhaps a Tooka kitten or two in her future though. I'm sure Kuro would be thrilled."

Shoulder bumped hers with a small chuckle as she mentioned the other Holo Centaxday Sale items. There had been more items, quite easy to hit 'add to cart' during business meetings. The true perk of Holo Centaxday. There was one of those 'bought for the wife, really a gift for himself' type items but it was all in good fun.

"I do have something I bought for myself with you in mind. However...it will be best saved for a childfree evening." The half-Galan gave a playful wink in her direction, bumping her shoulder again. "How exactly am I going to be taking advantage of date night minus children in a public setting? Oh..Oh no. Don't tell me you're going to get white girl wasted."

 

[Makko Vyres]

MAKKO

Pale cheeks began to pink, and Cora said nothing. She did, however, briefly dig the heel of her shoe into the toe of Makko's boot.

"Mnph," went Makko.

To his credit he maintains a perfect facade. He smiled and wiggled his big toe within his shoe.

He decided that was enough cheek whilst they were on public display. Some of the Ukatis lords lingered near the crowd. Makko let out a sigh. He had heard that some wanted to talk to him.

A jedi knight wasn't quite a commoner, but it was close in the eyes of the Ukatis gentry. They were curious. If they didn't need political allies he wouldn't have entertained offering them any of his time.

"Hey Cora." Jonyna smiled as she approaches. "And, I take it you're Makko? I don't remember if we've met. I've had a busy last few months."

"Jonyna," Cora greeted with a warm smile. "Welcome to Ukatis - and to our Name Day festival."

She glanced to Makko, gauging whether or not he was familiar with the Cathar Jedi.

"We met actually. Though I think I was in armour. I don't do anything as cool as swing a lightsaber with a tail to stand out."

“I was very happy for the two of you when I read the news.”

She would have hugged them both, but something told her the guards wouldn't like that very much.

Cora leaned forward and gathered her old friend into an embrace, hoping that it would melt a little of the distance that was between them. It wasn't a rift, more like a long silence through circumstance.

Makko felt a swell of joy to see an old friend. As soon as Cora broke etiquette he followed. He gave Colette a brief embrace and stepped back.

"It's really good to see you."

She stepped forward and extended a small, rectangular box out for the couple. Inside the ribbon-bound package would be a holoviewer decorated along the borders with various animal figures and other childish symbols slowly fading into what a young person or adult would enjoy -- or be demanded of by society. "They grow up too fast." A holo album for them to store pictures and videos of their youngling.

And just in case they weren't aware, "You can shoot guests that you don't like. A Falleen lawyer would represent you pro bono." That actually managed to break Xazzex's cold features with a tug of a smile at the corners of her lips.

Makko glanced after the horse.

"Thank you so much for the gift," he said. "It's lovely. I... Maybe should go and see what happened to the horse."

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAGS: Corazona von Ascania Makko Vyres​

Jonyna smiled in turn, waiting her turn. Cora had plenty of people who wanted to see her, and Jonyna knew better than to hog the pregnant woman of the hour.

Still, she couldn't help but want to pull her former council member, and her husband, aside to have a private conversation. Maybe later. Of course, once it was her turn, Jonyna took a breath.

"You'll have to remind me. I've done too much fighting for my own memory to keep up with."

It was a sad fact of just how old she was. Her memory slipped in places. Her body wasn't meant to last 900 plus years.

"Hope you don't mind if I just stick around. Hoping to steal you two away later if I can. I don't do well with crowds like this."

 

[Elian Abrantes]

OBJ:2
@Open
​

Elian rolled his shoulders once, a loose shake that sent a few lingering snowflakes tumbling from his hair. The grin never left his face, not cocky, just energized, the kind of excitement that lived in his bones.

He nocked another arrow with smooth confidence, the motion fluid and familiar. The bow creaked softly as he drew back, but his posture stayed relaxed, almost effortless. He breathed out, letting the world narrow to the target and the clean pull of the string beneath his fingers.

"Round two," he murmured, amusement threading through the words.

Without waiting for the tease to land, he released.

The arrow cut through the cold air in a crisp line, truer and faster than the first. It struck the target with a sharp thwack, this time landing just inside the ring he'd missed before.

Elian's smile brightened, pleased but not surprised.

He lowered the bow, casting a sidelong glance toward Shade and Cassian.

"Better," he said with quiet satisfaction. "Much better."

 

[Persephone Dashiell]

Hot chocolate in hand, Persephone made sure to take a big sip to avoid answering the question. None of it sounded exciting to her. Being out in the cold didn't thrill her any either. Granted the fashion was great and she looked great but that was beside the point. The point was it was still cold and wet and best enjoyed sitting by a fireplace looking out the window.

However, she wasn't going to burst Kiran's bubble. It seemed he was thrilled for the typical rowdy teenage boy activities of sledding and throwing axes at stumps. Depending on how heavy the axe was, she could technically try such an activity out herself. Best of luck to the spectators as her aim left something desired.

Yet as she was trying to figure out a way to get out of any of the activities that didn't involve shopping or a fireplace, keen ocean blue eyes caught a familiar figure. One Corazona von Ascania , sitting up on a throne receiving her subjects. Brows furrowed at the man next to her, looking lost and confused. Typical.

"One moment. We....uh, I, need to do something."

Veering away from Kiran, he could follow or wait for her, Persephone made a bee line for the receiving line for Cora. Seemed there was someone else speaking to the woman, a Cathar if her memory was correct, but the Cathar woman was just finishing up. A friend or someone trying to be a friend, judging on the tail end of the conversation.

"Miss Cora." A small greeting. Persephone had noticed something else too, a baby bump. "Knocked up I see. " Tone carried the same approval one might have about a teenage pregnancy. Gaze flitted over to the dark haired man. "You're the father? Or Miss Cora's attendant? I suppose both could be true..."

Persephone hadn't see the woman since she had a short lived relationship with Lysander. A shame they hadn't crossed paths but Persephone wasn't exactly in any mood to see any von Ascania.

"Congratulations"

Kiran Arlos | Jonyna Si | Makko Vyres​

 

[Cassian Abrantes]

OBJ:2
Shade ​

Cassian had seen Shade assess weapons before,but watching her approach a simple festival axe with that same deliberate, almost reverent precision. He stood just behind her as she took her stance, the lantern glow catching the line of her cheekbone, the snow tracing pale flecks along her dark braid. The world around them, cheering crowds, distant music, the rhythmic thud of competing throws, seemed to dull beneath the clarity of her focus.

Then she let the axe fly.

It struck the target with a solid, confident thump, sinking deep into the wood just shy of center, closer than most first throws he'd seen all evening. Heads turned. Even a few seasoned locals murmured approval.

Cassian exhaled a quiet, stunned breath before he even realized he'd been holding it.

When she returned to his side, expression composed as ever, he reached for her hand without hesitation. His fingers slid around hers, warm despite the cold, grounding despite the stir running through him.

"Shade…" His voice came low, soft enough that only she could hear the pride and see the smile on his face. He saw her in action and knew what she could do. But seeing it now like this, it was different.

"Stars," he murmured, leaning in just enough that his shoulder brushed hers. "Remind me never to stand on the wrong end of your aim."

There was humor in his tone, sweet, warm, but beneath it lived something deeper, something reverent. He squeezed her hand again, unable to help it.

"And for the record," he added, eyes flicking briefly toward the archery line where Elian was glancing back between shots, "I think my brother is entirely smitten with you already. That smile he gave?" His own smile deepened. "I've only ever seen it when he's truly impressed."

He looked at her again, really looked, and the faint glow in her eyes met his with a quiet intimacy he felt rather than saw.

"Two more throws, you got this." Cassian said softly.

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti | Varin Mortifer | Acier Moonbound
Corazona von Ascania | Makko Vyres
​

Lysander registered that familiar tug of sibling connection, long dormant from their diverging paths. His lips parted in a boyish grin, twin emeralds bright and unguarded.. a version of himself he seldom allowed anyone to see, or in truth, a side slowly being carved further out of him in another corner of the galaxy. Ukatis slowed for a breath, and he found himself the younger brother once more, untouched by darkness, as if proudly showing off a drawing. Cora’s approval kindled a soft laugh. Already, the entire trip felt worth it.

Another quiver touched his mouth, paired with the faint crinkle of his youthful expression. “Why, of course I did. Anything for a noble cause.. and obviously, only the best for the promised Ascania. Someone has to make sure she sleeps soundly while the galaxy spins.”

Better than burning, no?

He gave the box a final glance before handing it over. “Don’t you worry. I left the planetary destruction part to the professionals. I had no hand in any of that..”

Words may have slipped away from him, but the rhythm of his sister's tone told a story. Of course she’d do that.. always keeping him on his toes. His gaze wandered to Naniti, recalling her newness to gatherings like these, just as Jutrand had shown him. At the offering of the bracelet, a small tilt answered.. not surprised by the devotion carved into each bead, for he was long accustomed to his co-apprentice’s ways. Then he found Acier, the newest shadow at the Covenant’s academy. Time to truly know one another had been scarce. Outside of their prescribed instruction, he found himself more skeptical on Desevro, for it was far more cutthroat than Korriban.

What followed was a full on public display of sibling sabotage. Lysander shouldn’t have been surprised; she’d been practicing the art of humiliation on him since the cradle days. At least, that was the truth he chose. He even considered plastering on a stoic Sith mask to make him untouchable. But almost immediately.. the idea fizzled. Why fight family?

So, he played along in the only way he remembered while being put in his place.. with theatrical flourish. The wince he conjured suggested horror, only to be betrayed by a hand at her back. “Alright, alright, Coruhh,” enough defiance to sell to the other three present. Or so he hoped.. even if he chose to linger at her shoulder a second longer.

“Well, some things are easier to face when you know someone else is watching out for you.” A memory of simpler days. “I hope it will give her courage.. my niece, when she needs it.”

There was more sitting on his tongue.. too much, probably.. but more guests were quickly arriving. Maybe before he left his homeworld, he’d find another moment. Pivoting back to the others, his head tipped toward the distant crowds. “There’s a test of strength nearby. I volunteer all of you as my competitors. A little competition will keep the blood warm.”

When he stepped past, Lysander's hand brushed the back of the Togruta's elbow for a second; small enough she might not even notice, but impossible for him not to.

 

[Nir Si]

​

Tag: Varin Mortifer​

Nir had been all over in the last few years.

Ever since the fall of the GA, hell long before that, he'd sort of fallen out with the NJO. What was left of it, at least. The Nobles had disappeared, the Council scattered to the stars.

No, he'd been on tour. H.A.W.K. was the biggest band in the outer rim now. 3 Albums, six singles. And yet Nir was doing what he always did. What he was expected to do.

Part of what Allyson Locke had told him back then rang true. He didn't want to be a jedi, not really. At least, be didn't want to be yet another cookie cutter goodie two paws who stood up for the code. Truth was, he agreed with Allyson. Not in that he had to chose between Jedi and Rock Star, but in that what the NJO was, what it was trying to be, was broken.

Nowadays, he ran with the Bokken. It was inevitable, he figured. Joining up with his ancestor, Jonyna. No escaping his family, after all.

But he never turned down a good fight. When Ukatis was offering sparring, he decided to pop in. Next show wasn't till tomorrow after all. He could get to Ryloth quick and easy.

On his way to the sparring ring, he couldn't help but eye up anyone along the way. Seeing who he could size up, who he could walk past, and who he could ignore.

Bumping into Varin wasn't the intention, but it sure as hell happened.

"Chit!" Nir said, looking over to the Dragon.

 

[Aiden Porte]

Arhiia Voronwe​

Aiden barely had time to register the stunned, rosy-cheeked glow on Arhiia's face before she moved. One moment she was flustered, soft, breath caught where his lips had brushed her cheek, and the next she was bending, gathering snow with a deceptively elegant sweep of her hand.

He saw the shift a heartbeat too late.

"Oh no..." was all he managed before the avalanche hit.

Cold exploded across his chest, cascading over his shoulders, soaking into his collar as a rain of icy crystals tumbled down his cloak. He staggered back a step, not from the force, but from sheer disbelief, blinking through the sudden curtain of white.

Somewhere behind the ringing in his ears, the younglings gasped, then erupted.

"MASTER PORTE GOT SNOWED!"

"GET HIM!"

"ARHIIA'S THE BOSS NOW!"

Aiden dragged a gloved hand down his face, clearing a path through the melting snow clinging to his lashes. When he finally looked up, Arhiia was standing at the head of a charging army of very small, very enthusiastic warriors.

And she was laughing. Force, her laugh, it broke through him like sunlight through storm clouds. Bright. Unrestrained. Pure. He could see the blush still lingered on her cheeks, warm even against the winter air, but her posture had shifted into something mischievous and fierce, a playful stance that would have fit any battlefield. Cloak flaring behind her, cane planted like a commander's staff, she accepted a perfectly packed snowball from a youngling with regal grace.

"Oh, you're in trouble," muttered one of the older younglings beside him, already arming himself with ammunition.

Aiden exhaled through a slow smile, half fond, half incredulous, as Arhiia drew back her arm and launched the snowball with elegant precision. It struck him dead-center in the chest with a satisfying thwump.

The square erupted in triumphant cheers.

He stared down at the growing pile of snow gathering at his feet. Then he looked up at her, her glowing cheeks, her bright blue eyes, the lingering echo of his kiss still shimmering beneath the laughter she couldn't suppress.

"All right," he said softly, a dangerous warmth in his voice as he reached down and scooped up a handful of snow, packing it with slow, deliberate care. "If that's how we're doing this…"

The younglings shrieked, his smile and demeanor matched Arhiia's. He straightened to his full height, snowball ready.

"Then consider this," he called out, voice ringing across the square around them as the younglings rallied behind him legs, "a declaration of war."

Snow flew, the younglings were there full of laughter, and hope. And Aiden had hands full of fresh winter ammunition as he threw one towards Arhiia. This, was exactly where he wanted to be.

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Objective II
Tags: Adelle Bastiel

Aurelian groaned the moment he saw where his second axe had landed. It was too far left and too shallow. Yes, that was the excuse he seized without shame. "Ukatis really ought to consider a climate adjustment initiative," he muttered. "Purely for athletic fairness."

Her mention of Nessantico stopped him mid-complaint. He blinked, then turned fully toward her. "You jousted on Nessantico?" His brows lifted, equal parts impressed and affronted. "That was my tournament. You were there, you competed, another one of my parties." A scandalized gasp. "I'll have to ensure all future invitations are delivered directly to your door, since you keep appearing at my events."

Then Phantom scrambled up her coat, a furry avalanche of entitlement, and Aurelian winced hard. "Shiraya preserve me," he murmured. "If she ever tries that on me, I'm fleeing the planet."

He rolled his shoulders, stepping forward for the final throw. The axe felt colder now, metal biting into his palm. He adjusted his stance, smoothing the last of the bravado back over himself like armor.

"How else," he said, glancing at her with that lopsided, dangerous grin, "do you think we afford all of this? Lanterns, ribbonwork, live musicians? I can't very well tax the poor souls of the Republic into oblivion just to keep the aristocrats entertained."

He lifted the axe, lining up the shot. "But a drink?" he went on. "That, I can afford." He threw.

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