Private AEGIS GALACTICUS // The Search for Gianna Sal-Soren

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: R'ayne Asara
Attire: Link​

Stepping off the dimly lit, elegantly decorated elevator, Brandyn found himself confronted by a milieu of the most patrician crowd he had mixed with in many a year. Most had their hoods down and faces exposed, yet they still spoke in hushed tones as though an eavesdropper lurked in the shadows. Such was the nature of this meeting.

Having secured an invitation under the pseudonym Gaelid Ca'Nostra, Brandyn felt a flicker of gratitude for the facial plate that marred his appearance. It was a constant, painful reminder of his failures, but it served a purpose. Facial recognition no longer registered him as Brandyn Sal-Soren. For someone adept at spycraft, it was a dark gift from the Force itself. Being outed as the son of Baros Sal-Soren would ensure a swift and violent end to his day.

With his hood up and the pointed brim pulled low, Brandyn glided through the room. The air was heavy with a thousand competing scents - expensive perfumes, burning incense, exotic spices from the Arkanian dishes lining the central banquet table, and enough pheromones to drive a lesser man to distraction. Fortunately, Brandyn was in no mood to be distracted.

The atmosphere in the room shifted. Brandyn instinctively coiled his Force presence even deeper within himself as a man in a golden, embroidered robe entered. The newcomer moved with a grace and dignity that commanded instant authority, despite his face being hidden behind a tribal ceremonial mask Brandyn did not recognize.

"Patrons of the Aegis Galacticus," a formless voice boomed, its low, rumbling monotone sending a chill down Brandyn's spine.

"Non vis, sed civis," the crowd chanted in quiet, practiced unison. Brandyn mumbled only the final word, catching it just as it was being formed. He could only hope no one noticed the slight delay.

"Non vis, sed civis," the low, steady tone echoed back. "Seek answers among friends."

The room fractured into idle chatter once more. Attendees broke off into small clusters, though everyone seemed to look over their shoulders more often than they looked at the people they were speaking to.

Brandyn continued his understated tour of the room. If his intelligence was correct, a certain scientist, formerly of the Unblessed, was present tonight. And Brandyn had a few choice questions for her.

 

[R'ayne Asara]

​

[]

Comfortable Liar - by Chevelle​

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren

The doors of the elevator groaned apart before me like the opening jaws of some ancient leviathan, and I stepped into a chamber vast enough to berth a warship beneath its vaulted ebony ceiling. Wisps of incense coiled through the air in silver ribbons, mingling with sweeter aromas of exotic wines, spiced meats, and perfumes expensive enough to ransom a moon.

Banners draped from towering pillars carved with golden sigils of their organization while orchestral hymns whispered softly beneath the layered conversations of these cultists; gathered in mass beneath shimmering chandeliers forged from fractured kyber crystal.

I could feel the hundreds of eyes brush across me as I advanced deeper into their decadent abyss, yet none dare lingerd for long. They knew predators when they see them. Tonight I came not for spectacle, but to broker two pacts that, with success, would conjure long damning effects for the galaxy.

The first is simple in concept, if not scale, financial backing for a project so secretive its existence survives only in fragmented whispers and encrypted ledgers.

The second pact interested me far more. Scientific exploits concerning the nature of the Force itself. Not theology. Not Sith mysticism whispered by corpse-priests in forgotten tombs, but dissection, experimentation, understanding. The invitation had omitted the female scientist's name entirely, which only sharpened my curiosity further. Anonymous brilliance is often far more dangerous than celebrated genius.

I accepted the gathering knowing full well that if even half the rumors surrounding her work proved true, then indulging this invitation would be well worth sating my appetite; for knowledge, for power, and perhaps for something far more intoxicating hidden beneath the surface of this beautifully corrupted assembly.

Off to my left, the corner of my peripheral captured a man rise above the chittering sea of bodies, his voice sharpening into something almost ritualistic as he began rilling up the crowd into a prideful frenzy only they seem to understand; spitting out a mantra drenched in manifest destiny and self-anointed prophecy, I think. The chant caught like wildfire through incense-thick air, prompting me to roll my eyes slowly, the motion heavy with disdain as their devotion curdled fervently in my stomach.

"I despise religious zealots and fanatics no matter what umbrella they seek shelter from," I said in cold and cruel, measured tones, "they are best purged before their rot spreads further, but they do, for now, serve a purpose to me."

Then as the chant slowly faded into mere hushes, the crowd began fracturing into smaller pockets of conversation, the grand hall's once unified fervor dissolving into clusters of scheming voices and glittering ambition and I casually observed the shift with quiet satisfaction.

"Time," I said in dark, venomous tones, eyes drifting across the bloated assemblies of pomp and pretense, "to thin out some of these overly swollen, self-important leeches' accounts before they convince themselves they matter more than they do."

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: R'ayne Asara
Attire: Link​

"Gaelid Ca'Nostra," Brandyn said, his accent thick with a Llordian cadence. The attendant dipped their head in acknowledgement, and he was led towards a small group of interlocutors.

The small circle consisted of two planetary governors from the Expansion Region, a wealthy Kuati shipwright, and the woman herself. Up close, her clinical posture stood in stark contrast to the bloated decadence of the politicians. She listened to their empty posturing with an expression of profound boredom, her fingers absently tapping the surface of a data-pad.

"Ah, Lord Ca'Nostra," the Kuati shipwright droned, gesturing to Brandyn with a half-empty glass of Alderaanian wine. "We were just discussing the logistical nightmare of tracking Force-sensitives within the mid-rim sectors. The bureaucracy is staggering."

Brandyn adopted the precise, calculated posture of a Llordian kinetic-communicator, offering a stiff, aristocratic bow. "The bureaucracy is a symptom of a deeper disease," he replied, his manufactured accent smooth and detached.

The scientist's eyes snapped toward him, sharp and calculating. The subtle shift in her attention was instantaneous.

"And what, pray tell, would that be?" She murmured, her voice carrying a cold, professional edge. She turned her back completely on the Kuati noble, effectively cutting him off. "Gentlemen, if you will excuse us. Lord Ca'Nostra and I have private matters to discuss."

The politicians offered polite, if slightly insulted, murmurs before drifting away toward the central banquet table, eager to find more agreeable company.

Left alone in the shadow of a towering ebony pillar, the woman stepped closer, her clinical gaze tracing the edges of Brandyn's face plate.
"Your pseudonym is elegant, Lord Ca'Nostra," she said in a hushed, sharp tone. "But it was the encrypted addendum you attached to your message that caught my attention. Your notes on Force-user neurology and the suppression of the neural pathways that channel their...anomalies. You claim to have access to live test subjects."

She leaned in, her eyes burning with a dark, scientific fervor. "Your message was of great interest to me. I am Dr. Aris. Tell me what you brought me, before the rest of these self-important leeches realize what we are actually discussing."

Brandyn opened his mouth to respond, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught the silent, predatory approach of another who looked to encroach upon his moment.

R'ayne Asara​

 

[R'ayne Asara]

[]

Comfortable Liar - by Chevelle​

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren


I wandered through the immense chamber like a phantom adrift with blasphemous intentions, the black edges of my robes gliding over polished floors veined like a rainbow beneath the colourful flickers of towering braziers. The zealots and fanatics still lingered beneath the intoxication of the man's speech, gathered in fervent clusters with shining eyes and feverish smiles as though they had glimpsed the dawn of divinity itself.

I moved amongst them with measured grace, indulging them in brief conversations and idle curiosity.

One banker proudly described how he had manipulated supply routes across three sectors to engineer famine and profit from the desperation that followed. Another whispered of hidden accounts swelling with blood-soaked credits in preparation for the coming of a "New Age," whatever absurd revelation that was meant to entail. They spoke of economic conquest with the same reverence ancient priests once reserved for prophecy. I found the entire spectacle quietly comical.

I allowed their nonsense to wash over me like distant chanting while my attention drifted ceaselessly across the chamber, searching. Then at last, through the haze of incense and undying devotion, she arrived.

The scientist entered with none of the theatrical arrogance possessed by the fanatics and cultists surrounding the room, yet she drew attention all the same; carrying herself with the restrained tension of someone whose mind constantly threatens to outrun the limits of flesh.

A small congregation of admirers and intellectual parasites quickly formed around her, eager to bask in the gravity of forbidden genius. I watched from afar for a moment in silence, studying the exhaustion etched into her features, but ambition burned beneath it like a dying star refusing extinction. A faint smile touched my lips beneath the hood. Ah, there you are. Without haste, I began moving toward her and the gathering orbiting around her presence.

I slowed to a graceful halt before the small congregation surrounding the woman, my gaze drifting across each figure with quiet scrutiny; the two planetary governors from the Expansion Region dressed in silks heavy with vanity and political anxiety, the wealthy Kuati shipwright adorned in polished onyx jewelry that gleamed like fragments of space itself, and the peculiar man beside them whose partial mask concealed half his face in cold silver shadow. Then at last my eyes settled upon the scientist herself.

"You must be the elusive scientist," I said at last in smooth, professional tones touched with faint amusement, inclining my head politely toward her. "The one who withholds her name from invitations to cultivate an air of mystery around herself. I am Lady Sycophantia, and I believe your message implied you may possess something of a scientific nature that could prove, how did you phrase it, oh yes, of great interest to me."

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: R'ayne Asara
Attire: Link​

Brandyn did not hide the annoyance at the Twi'lek's intrusion. His one good eye narrowed, while the light in his implant seemed to change its hue ever so subtly. He needed to move this Lethan on before his ruse fell apart.

"Lady Sychophantia," said Dr Aris, eyebrows raising as greeting, "I was just beginning a conversation with Lord Ca'Nostra. Though I suspect if I do not get what I wish from both of these conversations, you might find one another...complimentary."

Brandyn swore internally. He needed to get Aris alone again, or risk his entire ploy. Should he be outed as a Jedi, this room would quickly turn its full ire against him.

"Such a name," Brandyn said to the newcomer, a little too quickly, "putting your mode of operation front and centre?"

Aris looked neither pleased nor amused at his attempt at undermining Sycophantia.

"Lord Ca'Nostra," she said, posture adjusting to show her displeasure at aristocratic cattiness, "should you wish my services, I would kindly ask you refrain from mockery. It is beneath your station."

He simply replied with a bow of his head. Though internally, Brandyn berated himself for his childish tactics.

Something about Aris' posture, and the way she looked at Brandyn, concerned him. It was as if his cover was blown, or at least was almost so, and she had not finished processing her deductions.

"Perhaps we can talk just a moment, in private, Dr Aris," Brandyn said, voice still holding the thick accent of Ca'Nostra.

Dr Aris did not hesitate in directing him towards a side room, with a sweep of her hand. "Perhaps Lady Sycophantia and yourself would await my return in the adjoining conference room. I shall arrange the slaves to tend to our needs, and find the one that is the last piece of our impromptu summit..." She again gestured towards the door. "...please, if you will."

Again, he replied with a simple bow, though he found it necessary to suppress the growing frustrations at not getting the private meeting he wished.

"My Lady," he said, hand gesturing for her to go before him.

 

[R'ayne Asara]

AEGIS GALACTICUS

[]

Savage Queen of Hearts - by Neon Dreams​

Tag > Brandyn Sal-Soren


"I am rather certain our interests already slither along the same dark current, Dr. Aris," I interjected, my voice smooth as grave-silk. "But perhaps I race too far ahead of the moment." The words escaped me with uncommon warmth, a rare softness curling beneath the usual frost of my demeanor as I regarded the man beside the doctor, briefly.

Yet before I could continue, the man abruptly cut across my speech, his curiosity fastening not upon Dr. Aris, but upon me, his words heavy with mocking interest. A faint scowl tugged at my lips, subtle but unmistakable, the sort of expression born less from anger and more from predatory scrutiny.

I turned slightly toward him, prepared to answer Lord Ca'Nostra myself, when Dr. Aris suddenly stepped between the moment with a sharp interruption of her own.

Dr. Aris reprimanded the nobleman in hushed but stern tones, chastising him for interrupting and reminding him of proper decorum in her presence. I merely exhaled a quiet, amused breath through my nose before lifting one red hand in dismissal, waving away the offense as though he had committed no trespass worth remembering at all.

"Think nothing of it," I said calmly, the shadows beneath my hood shifting with the motion. "Curiosity is rarely a sin. Only what one chooses to do with it determines whether it becomes wisdom or doom."

I smiled inwardly as Dr. Aris politely declined Lord Ca'Nostra's request for a private discussion, the scientist's restraint revealing a discipline I found increasingly respectable among the sea of self-important fools that infested gatherings such as these. Then, catching me off guard, she suggested that Lord Ca'Nostra and I wait within one of the adjoining chambers while she concluded her matters.

I answered with a slow, approving nod. "I am patient, Doctor," I said softly, my voice smooth beneath whispering undertones. "Take whatever time you require." There was no irritation within me, only quiet amusement, for patience was the favored weapon of predators far older and crueler than any who lingered within these decadent halls.

My gaze shifted toward Lord Ca'Nostra, and the corner of my mouth curved with the faintest trace of hidden mockery. "Well," I sighed, folding my hands behind my back as though addressing a student eager for forbidden philosophy, "here is your opportunity to harvest answers to those previous circling questions of yours."

My red eyes briefly flicked toward the nearby bar, where crystal bottles gleamed beneath cycling lights like captured relics from fallen empires. "Though knowledge, regrettably, is never free. It will cost you a drink from the bar over there."

A low chuckle escaped me before I inclined my head toward the adjoining chamber. "See you in the room, Lord Ca'Nostra." I then offered Dr. Aris a final respectful nod, one scholar of darkness acknowledging another mind of value, before my robes swept behind me and I turned toward the corridor, vanishing slowly into the gloom beyond.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: R'ayne Asara
Attire: Link​

He stood in the corridor a moment longer than was polite, the mask of Gaelid Ca'Nostra settling more firmly across his face. The dismissal from Dr. Aris was far from ideal, but these things rarely served themselves up on platters. Nonetheless, it irritated him.

Brandyn moved toward the bar, each step noting an option he had at hand. How to approach this unfolding dynamic would require a deft touch, and patience that was in short supply.

The room was slowly taking on the feeling of a curated altar to indulgence. Crystal decanters caught the shifting light of the chandeliers and fractured it into pale ghosts across the counter. Brandyn selected two flutes of something pale and effervescent. It was the sort of drink designed to be seen in hand as much as it was to be consumed. He did not taste it.

Instead, he carried it carefully back through the hush of the adjoining chamber. Sycophantia was already there. And upon entering the room, Brandyn felt immediately isolated from his objective.

Brandyn set the flute down on the table, then slid it across the polished surface with controlled precision. The glass stopped well short of her reach, an intentional distance. He remained standing on his side of the table, the barrier between them a sign of his intent.

His posture stayed formal, measured, almost absent of interest. Only his eye moved as it tracked her movements.

For a moment, only the muted murmurings of the adjacent room at is milieu filled the ai .

"You invite yourself into conversation easily, Lady Sycophantia," he said at last, tone even, carrying the faint Llordian cadence without strain. "Welcome...or otherwise."

He glanced toward the door once, then back to her. As he calculated the moment.

For a moment, he considered the angles again. Aris was not simply separating them. She was likely studying them, or had someone watching them to understand if they were foes, or allies. Aris needed to understand if she was being played.

Brandyn exhaled softly through his nose.

"You know she put us here to get rid of us, right?" He said, lying with proficiency.

 

[R'ayne Asara]

AEGIS GALACTICUS

[]

Savage Queen of Hearts - by Neon Dreams​

Tag > Brandyn Sal-Soren

I stood amidst the chamber's oppressive stillness, my calculating gaze drifting across its profane adornments with measured disdain. Every art decor, every blasphemous idol, every threadbare banner seemed stitched together by the same crude fanaticism that festered beyond these walls, a tasteless reflection of the cult's desperate hunger for meaning in powers they scarcely understood.

I found myself wondering whether this place was merely a shrine to ignorance; or the mouth of a deeper abyss waiting to reveal its teeth.

At last, the nobleman finally crossed the threshold of the chamber, bearing two flutes with all the ceremony of a courtier presenting tribute before a queen, and he carefully set one beside me; just beyond my reach, as though testing whether I would stoop to claim it.

A crooked smile tugged at my lips as I tilted my head and purred, "How curious? It must be fate, Lord Ca'Nostra. You knew precisely my favorite drink," the mockery wrapped in velvet flattery before I dismissed the offering entirely, leaving it untouched upon the table between us.

It was my crimson eyes that settled upon him instead, drinking in every word that fell from his lips, and with each syllable I felt the playful monster coiled within my heart stir awake, stretching its shadowed claws beneath a veneer of regal amusement.

I offered Lord Ca'Nostra an exaggerated curtsey, the gesture dripping with theatrical reverence as black silks whispered across the ancient floor, before I straightened with a faint, amused smile curling upon my lips.

"Communication has always triumphed over manners, Lord Ca'Nostra," I said in off-hand tones, as though discussing the weather rather than the ambitions of predators. "Better to interject and seize the moment than spend an eternity huddled in a corner with the Children of Well-Versed Manners, accomplishing nothing but a collection of 'What Ifs' and forgotten opportunities."

Beneath the chamber's dim light, my expression darkened into something more cryptic. "Of course she did, Lord Ca'Nostra. A woman like Dr. Aris may be far more ambitious than she realizes, but she is no fool."

"Which leaves only two possibilities, either she saw precisely what was unfolding before her," I paused, allowing the silence to breathe between us like a living thing, "or she believes that we are the fools, and that is a far more interesting possibility."​

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: R'ayne Asara
Attire: Link​

For the first time since joining her in the room, Brandyn smiled. It was a small thing. Hidden almost entirely from her view. It was a smile of observation, not amusement. Her comment about fate had brought a reaction. "Then fortune has been unusually generous to me this evening."

His gaze drifted briefly toward the untouched flute resting between them before returning to her crimson eyes. He made no effort to encourage her to drink. Nor did he reach for his own. The glasses remained precisely where they had been placed, suspended between them like an unspoken agreement neither cared to acknowledge.

The woman was dangerous.

Not because of her power. Not because of her confidence. The galaxy was littered with powerful people and overflowing with confident ones. No, what interested Brandyn was the speed with which she sought to define the game being played. Every sentence she spoke arrived wrapped around a conclusion. Every observation carried the faint implication that she already understood the answer.

It was a habit he recognized. And one he had spent most of his life learning to distrust. "Or perhaps there is a third possibility."

"One could...simply choose not to play." The words were left hanging there, undisturbed by any attempt to elaborate upon them. Whether they referred to Dr. Aris, the gathering itself, or the woman opposite him was a matter of interpretation. "Regardless, I suspect we can save ourselves an evening of circling one another."

He adjusted the cuff of one glove, his posture relaxed despite the careful calculations unfolding beneath the surface. "I require only five uninterrupted minutes with Dr. Aris." His head tilted, only slightly. "No more."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Five minutes is generally sufficient to determine whether a conversation is worth continuing." Again, the statement was left deliberately ambiguous.

He stepped away from her, and towards the door. For a brief moment his gaze lingered upon her. Not upon the crimson eyes. Not upon the silks. Not upon any single feature at all. Simply upon her. The look lasted a fraction longer than courtesy required. Brandyn immediately regretted it. Not because the woman lacked beauty. Not because he found her appealing. But because the gesture had been intentional.

Lord Ca'Nostra might have allowed himself such indulgences. Brandyn Sal-Soren had no business doing so. The distinction mattered. Unpacking the morality of the moment would have to wait for the trip home.

Turning away, he crossed the chamber toward the door. Sychophantia may have become an interesting complication, but Dr. Aris remained the objective. And Brandyn had never much cared for distractions.

 

[R'ayne Asara]

AEGIS GALACTICUS

[]

Savage Queen of Hearts​

Tag > Brandyn Sal-Soren

I arched a single brow, the motion slow and deliberate, as though even the air itself should pause to witness the man's proposed third option; this elegant suggestion that the game might simply be refused altogether, as if fate were a polite host one could decline at the door.

For a moment I let the idea turn over in my mind like a blade between fingers, testing its edge, its audacity; its simplicity. Then I laughed, softly, almost amused at myself for not seeing the shape of it sooner; and gave a faint nod, the kind that seals a thought rather than merely acknowledges it.

Yes, there was sense in this refusal to play, in this quiet subversion of expectation. And beneath it all, beneath the wit of his answer and the calmness of his defiance, I could not help but think there was still more to Lord Ca'Nostra than he had yet allowed the shadows to reveal.

But before I could offer a retort, Lord Ca’Nostra turned from the table’s dim glow and moved toward the threshold, his silhouette sharpening against the pale spill of the chamber's lights.

There was intention in his stride, carefully contained, almost ritualistic; as though defying Dr. Aris’ instruction to wait was not rebellion, but a more private arithmetic of consequence only he could solve. Five minutes alone with Aris. Five minutes uninterrupted.

A simple request on its surface, and yet it pressed against my curiosity like a thumb against a bruise. I told myself it was incidental that I too had business with Dr. Aris, one does not come to these halls without crossing debts and necessities; but even I could feel the familiar itch of disregard for both superior and inferior instruction alike.

Still, intrigue is its own gravity. And Lord Ca’Nostra had just shifted the orbit of the room.

I rose without ceremony, lifting the two flute drinks from the table before the decision could fully settle into hesitation, and followed him into the chamber's threshold. “Your five minutes are safe from me,” I called after him, my tone light, almost teasing, carefully sharpened into something that could pass for amusement rather than pursuit.

“But since you’re the one responsible for piquing my interest, I suppose I’ll have to see how your option three fares in practice. Good or ill.”

I closed the distance in a few brisk strides, extending one of the flutes toward him as though it had always belonged in his hand. “You might need this for a conversation accessory.” A pause, just long enough for implication to settle.

Then, softer; less a command, more a blessing wrapped in curiosity I added, “Good luck.”​

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: R'ayne Asara
Attire: Link​

Brandyn paused as the offered flute entered his field of view. It was unexpected, but more unexpected still was her willingness to grant the arrangement. Without ceremony, he accepted the glass with a quiet, "My thanks." Whether he referred to the drink, the luck, or the five minutes she had agreed to afford him was left deliberately unclear.

For a moment, his gaze lingered upon her. He wasn't searching or appraising, but simply reconsidering the woman standing before him.

"Something tells me we will meet again," he murmured. The faintest trace of amusement touched his voice before vanishing, and with that, he turned away. The flute in hand.

He found Dr. Aris almost immediately upon returning to the gathering. She was moving with purpose until she caught sight of him, her expression instantly shifting into a look that suggested she was already composing a harsh dismissal.

Brandyn inclined his head anyway. "Doctor."

"If this is an attempt to circumvent my instructions..."

"It concerns the Unblessed," Brandyn interrupted softly.

She stopped. It was only for a moment, but the hesitation was enough. Brandyn stepped closer, lowering his voice into the low hum of the room. "Their research into Force-sensitive children."

The annoyance on her face disappeared instantly, replaced by something much sharper. It was a volatile mix of interest, deep concern, and cold calculation. For several seconds, neither of them spoke as the weight of the revelation hung between them.

Finally, Dr. Aris exhaled through her nose and glanced toward a quieter, shadowed section of the hall. "...walk with me."

Brandyn offered a small nod and fell into step beside her, the untouched flute still resting loosely in his hand. At last, the real conversation could begin.

R'ayne Asara​

 

[R'ayne Asara]

AEGIS GALACTICUS

[]

Savage Queen of Hearts​

Tag > Brandyn Sal-Soren

I offered Lord Ca'Nostra nothing more than a measured inclination of my head, a silent acknowledgment as he strode toward whatever private communion awaited him beyond the threshold with Dr. Aris.

The gesture was small, but my attention lingered upon his retreating form for only a heartbeat before dissolving back into the greater mass of bodies gathered beneath the oppressive weight of that place.

Like a shadow slipping between the ribs of some sleeping beast, I drifted through the congregation of the Unblessed. Their voices merged into a low, droning chorus that reminded me of distant insects chittering beneath rotting bark. Yet beneath the mundane murmur of conversation, another current writhed unseen.

These people smiled, conversed, and carried themselves with the ease of true believers, yet something beneath their flesh seemed ever so slightly misaligned, as though their spirits had been threaded together by unseen hands into a tapestry whose design remained hidden.

Curiosity has always been among my most dangerous vices. Rather than resist it, I fed it.

Allowing myself to become another participant within the gathering, I approached a cluster of faithful followers surrounding the same man whose words had earlier ignited this extravagant assembly. Their attention orbited him with a devotion bordering on reverence, and as I stepped into the circle I felt countless subtle glances settle upon me.

I regarded the man in silence as he lifted a finger to his pursed lips, the gesture carrying with it the self-assured cadence of one accustomed to being heard. Around us, the faithful listened with attentive eyes, their devotion hanging in the air like incense before some unseen altar.

At last, he inclined his head slightly toward me. "You must be the guest Dr. Aris personally invited," he said. "Though honestly, I cannot imagine why she would seek outside assistance for any of her projects, especially a Twi'lek, unless she believes you possess some exceptional value."

The words were offered with the veneer of a double-sided courtesy, yet beneath them I detected the subtle edge of scrutiny. It was enough to draw a faint narrowing of my eyes.

"It is generally considered impolite," I replied in curt, razor-edged tones, "to evaluate a stranger who has been invited by this cult's benefactor and honored guest. Perhaps your lack of manners, or your lack of scientific understanding, is precisely why Dr. Aris sought my counsel, a Twi'lek, rather than yours. Certainly she didn't choose me for my manners."

The surrounding listeners fell silent as my words settled over them like frost upon a grave.

The man's complexion immediately darkened to a deep crimson. Through the Force I felt his irritation surge upward, hot and immediate, a bitter flare of wounded pride that rolled from him in palpable waves. I indulged the sensation, savoring it as one might savor the scent of ozone before a storm.

"First," he snapped, struggling to maintain composure, "we are not a cult. Second, your manners are indeed waning." A smile slowly spread across my lips. The reaction was everything I had hoped for. Victory, however small, swelled within me like a dark tide beneath moonless waters.

"Yes," I said, my voice softening into something almost pleasant, which somehow made it all the more dangerous. "My manners are considered undesirable by most people. You included, it seems."

My gaze drifted briefly across the gathered followers before returning to him. "But we are not gathered here to squabble. We are here to celebrate the progress of your cult."

I paused deliberately before adding, "Or whatever term you prefer to use for it." The smile never left my face as fresh irritation rippled through him, feeding the unseen currents that churned beneath the surface of the gathering.​

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: R'ayne Asara
Attire: Link​

Rain hammered against the durasteel awning overhead, spilling from its edges in silver curtains that vanished into the darkness below. Beyond the balcony, the city was little more than scattered lights and distant silhouettes, swallowed by storm and night.

For several moments neither spoke.

Dr. Aris stood with her arms folded, studying him with the growing intensity of a scientist confronting an impossible result. The conversation had drifted far beyond pleasantries. Beyond the Unblessed. Beyond research. It had become personal. Dangerously so.

Brandyn felt her gaze lingering upon the prosthetic plate that obscured part of his face. Slowly, he lowered his hood. The rain-muted silence stretched between them.

Confusion flickered across her features. Then realization. Color drained from her face. "Baros?"

The word barely escaped her lips. Brandyn moved. One moment he stood several paces away. The next, Dr. Aris slammed against the stone balustrade hard enough to drive the breath from her lungs.

His hand closed around her throat. Her eyes widened. Panic overtook her. A small communicator appeared in her hand. Brandyn's gaze dropped to it. His free hand squeezed, the Force rippled. Metal let out a scream. The device crumpled into twisted fragments beneath his grip before a signal could be sent. The muffled sound that escaped her throat vanished beneath the pressure of his hand.

Rainwater ran from the edge of the awning behind them.

Brandyn leaned closer. For a moment there was something in his eyes that looked dangerously like hatred.

"Do not ever," he said quietly, each word too calm, "call me that again."

The pressure eased just enough for her to breathe. Barely.

"I want the coordinates." His gaze never left hers. "The Nantoon facility." Another slight tightening of his fingers. "Now."

 

[R'ayne Asara]

AEGIS GALACTICUS

[]

Savage Queen of Hearts

Tag > Brandyn Sal-Soren

The persistence of the Unblessed had begun to grate upon me like rusted durasteel dragged across broken nails. Their hollow proclamations and fevered certainty echoed through the hall in monotonous waves, each word a reminder that zealotry often mistook volume for wisdom.

I was preparing to endure yet another tedious declaration from the principal cultist when a sudden ripple coursed through the Force.

Across the chamber, isolated knots of cult adherents began pointing toward a distant balcony, their voices rising in agitated hushes.

Even the security personnel seemed alerted, several lightly armed cultists posing as guards weaving through the sea of guests toward the same destination with notable urgency.

I allowed my gaze to linger upon the cultist before me, my patience finally exhausted. "Your presence has expired my patience," I said flatly, the irritation in my voice carrying all the warmth of a tomb left unopened for centuries. Without waiting for a response, I turned and pressed through the crowd.

The mass of bodies parted reluctantly as I advanced, guided by equal measures of curiosity and the strange disturbance that still resonated within the Force. By the time I reached the balcony entrance, I arrived alongside the guards themselves.

What greeted us there was not violence, conspiracy, or assassination, but something far more entertaining. Lord Ca'Nostra and Dr. Aris occupied a predicament so scandalous and compromising that even I found myself briefly surprised.

The scene possessed the absurdity of a cosmic jest, and despite myself, a flicker of amusement stirred beneath my otherwise composed demeanor.

My eyes drifted from the pair to the assembled guards, then back again. The cultists gathering behind us seemed equally captivated, though their fascination carried the unmistakable scent of impending hostility.

Folding my hands behind my back, I tilted my head slightly and regarded Lord Ca'Nostra with the measured expression of a disappointed instructor.

"Your manners remain intriguing," I observed in calm, lecturing tones, "but it would behoove you to conjure an explanation with remarkable haste. Your five minutes have elapsed, and these guards, as well as a considerable portion of this delightful cult, appear poised to harbor rather unpleasant intentions toward you."

Somewhere behind me, a familiar voice bellowed, "We are not a cult!"

Ignoring the uninvited attempt at correction, my gaze shifted toward Dr. Aris, lingering there with renewed interest. "I, too, have business with you, Dr. Aris. Though I confess, you have now become considerably more interesting than you were moments ago."​

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: R'ayne Asara
Attire: Link​

The moment stretched, taut and fragile.

Overhead, rain drummed a relentless rhythm against the awning, throwing down shimmering curtains of water that bled the city's neon sprawl into the dark, erasing the galaxy until nothing remained but the balcony and the distant, weeping lights. Behind Brandyn, the soft rustle of armour announced the gathering guards. He could hear the sudden shift in the air, the brewing murmurs, the quiet crystallisation of accusation, the heavy weight of their assumptions.

Good. Let them assume.

Slowly, deliberately, he released Dr. Aris. There was no sudden jerk, none of the telltale panic that would betray a guilty man. He simply let his fingers slide from the pale column of her throat and took a half step back, granting her space while maintaining himself in absolute composure. Beneath the heavy folds of her sleeve, her knuckles remained white around the ruined communicator, completely shielded from the eyes of the crowd.

For a heartbeat, they hung in suspension, frozen like statues in the downpour. This required theatre, pure and simple, but theatre was his native tongue.

Hhis gaze drifted lazily toward Sycophantia.

"You honor me with your concern," Brandyn said, his voice a smooth, measured glide, treating the near-fatal encounter as an elegant inconvenience rather than a catastrophe. "And I am deeply grateful to see our agreement was taken so seriously."

The barest ghost of amusement laced his words. He turned his head slightly, offering Dr. Aris a polished, deferential nod. "Though perhaps the good Doctor can explain..."

Aris cut him off with a look. It was a long, unblinking stare weighted with suspicion, sharp calculation, and something that thrummed perilously close to fear. Finally, she let out a slow, ragged exhale.

"A lover's quarrel," she said, the words dragging reluctantly from her throat. "No more than that."

An audible wave of relief swept through the spectators, the high-wire tension dissolving instantly into a collective groan of disappointment. Several guards visibly stiffened, suspicious despite being robbed of a far more scandalous spectacle.

Ignoring them entirely, Aris kept her eyes locked onto Brandyn, her gaze burning into his.

"You," she commanded, the word dropping like an iron anchor. "You are coming with me."

Only then did she cast a brief, frigid glance back toward Sychophantia. "I'm afraid our meeting will have to wait for another occasion."

Without waiting for agreement, she turned on her heel and strode back toward the interior of the estate. Brandyn watched her go for a moment, tracking her retreat, before looking briefly toward Sychophantia. There was no triumph in his expression. Only curiosity. Then, with a courteous inclination of his head, Lord Ca'Nostra began to walk past the Twi'lek.

 

[R'ayne Asara]

AEGIS GALACTICUS

[]

Savage Queen of Hearts

Tag > Brandyn Sal-Soren

I turned my head toward the gathered cultists, allowing my gaze to drift across the congregation as one might study carvings upon an ancient mausoleum. Fleeting expressions; raised brows, uncertain glances, whispers smothered before they were born, rippled through the assembly after both Lord Ca'Nostra and Dr. Aris had delivered their explanation.

They wished the matter to settle like sacred scripture upon receptive minds, yet I found little nourishment within their words. Skepticism coiled through me like a patient serpent beneath cold stone.

Whether their account concealed an inconvenient truth or merely soothed frightened imaginations was no concern of mine. I lifted one hand in a small, almost dismissive gesture, as though carefully placing their explanation upon a distant shelf reserved for beliefs held only by those who uttered them.

"If Lord Ca'Nostra required more than five minutes," I said with measured composure, my voice carrying the weight of a mourner's bell through the chamber, "perhaps he and Dr. Aris should have selected a less exhibitionist room for their private affairs."

Dr. Aris met my gaze only long enough to insist that I would have to wait to reschedule our meeting. Without another word, she turned and departed, Lord Ca'Nostra following close behind as though eager to escape the lingering gravity that hung over the hall.

I did nothing to impede them. Instead, I simply stepped aside, my red eyes following their retreat with the slow patience of some abyssal predator watching prey wander beyond the light. Beneath my breath, so quietly that only I could hear the words, I whispered, "Poor Dr. Aris, how tragic you are mistaken. I am not done with you tonight."

The promise vanished into the silence like incense offered to unseen gods. Then I moved. The scattered onlookers drifted apart before me, unconsciously yielding passage as I glided through their ranks.

My cloak whispered across the stone floor while I caught sight of Lord Ca'Nostra's back just as he disappeared around a shadowed corner, vanishing into the labyrinth where secrets believed themselves safely hidden.

And now, I thought mischievously, drawing ever closer to the corner, I shall discover who both Dr. Aris and Lord Ca'Nostra truly are.​

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Tag: R'ayne Asara
Attire: Link​

MINUTES LATER

By the time they reached the parking terraces, the sky had completely given way, heavy with an unforgiving, rhythmic storm.

Rain swept across the rows of speeders in long, silver sheets, turning the polished duracrete below into a fractured mirror of shifting light and jagged shadow. Dr. Aris walked beside him beneath the relative shelter of the overhang, her arm firmly clasped in his hand. To a distant eye, the gesture might have carried the soft, deceptive shape of intimacy. But up close, the illusion crumbled entirely. It was undone by the rigid, brittle tension in her posture, and by the raw fear she could no longer find the strength to hide.

Brandyn said nothing. Silence was a tool he knew how to use, and besides, he had what he needed. Or at least, he had enough to suffice.
The distant, lonely whine of a repulsorlift drifted through the wet night as they drew near his speeder.

"Please," Aris whispered, her voice fragile and undone by the wind. "You don't understand what you're involving yourself in."

Before Brandyn could offer a reply, a security droid stepped smoothly from the shadows between two parked speeders, its metallic frame gleaming in the dampness. "Attention," its mechanical voice droned. "Please halt and identify yourselves."

Aris did not hesitate. She seized the moment like a desperate gambler. She lurched towards the droid, stumbling out of Brandyn's grasp and into what appeared a tacking position as she charged the droid. "Help! He's..."

But the world moves far too quickly when violence is involved. The droid reacted instantly.

A sharp, deafening crack tore through the downpour as a blaster bolt severed the air. Aris staggered to the side, her breath catching. For a single, fleeting heartbeat, a look of profound confusion crossed her features...the quiet surprise of someone realising their story is ending too soon. Then, the spark left her eyes, and she collapsed heavily onto the wet pavement.

Brandyn simply stared, the sudden weight of the moment pressing down upon him.

The droid pivoted toward him, its sensory eye glowing. "Threat assessment revised."

There was no time for thought, only the sharp, familiar instinct of survival. An emerald blade erupted into existence with a low, vibrant thrum.

Where the rain struck the plasma, it hissed into violent, frantic steam. The droid managed only a single, heavy step forward before Brandyn's lightsaber carved a bright, clean line through its metal torso, scattering a brief shower of molten orange across the dark duracrete.

Then, the sudden silence returned, heavier now, filled only by the steady drumbeat of the rain.

Brandyn looked down at Aris's broken form, then turned his gaze toward the distant, glowing estate. He had stayed too long already. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and regret. With the Force coiling uneasily around him like a gathering storm, he turned on his heel and hurried toward his waiting speeder.