Private After the Masquerade

[Korda Veydran]

The hum of the city felt distant here, muffled by the thick stone walls that framed the courtyard. Korda sat perched on the edge of a low stone wall, one elbow resting on his knee, the glass in his hand catching the faint glow of streetlamps. His suit coat was undone, draped loosely over his shoulders, revealing the dark ink of his neck tattoos curling up beneath his collar.

A slight warmth hummed through him, the drink loosening the tension in his shoulders, steadying the pulse of nerves that still lingered after the masquerade. He took a slow sip, eyes scanning the quiet street, half-expecting nothing and everything at once.


Somewhere in the back of his mind, the memory of her face flickered — the stranger at the masquerade. He hadn't caught her name, hadn't known what she was… yet there was a pull he couldn't name, a curiosity wrapped around that fleeting moment before he'd let his anxiety push him away.

He let out a slow breath, leaning back against the wall, the faint buzz of alcohol coloring the night.

"Why did I even talk to her?" he muttered under his breath, barely audible over the distant city hum. "If she knew… if she saw the real me… she wouldn't see anything but a monster. A blood-stained heart. Who am I kidding?"


His fingers drummed lightly against the glass as he imagined her walking away again, leaving him with the weight of his own hesitations. But even as doubt clawed at him, a small, stubborn hope lingered: maybe she'd show up again. Maybe this time… he could find the courage to stay.

Eira Dyn

 

[Eira Dyn]

Outfit: Dress with Mask
Equipment: None
Tag: Korda Veydran

Eira had found the masquerade ball somewhat intriguing. The fact that she had remained collected and undetected by the Jedi that were in attendance was something that she enjoyed. However, nothing she had gathered in terms of information since people were distracted or not interested in revealing secrets that Eira could use to her advantage. It was clear that the Sith Assassin would have to spend more time working on the tactical probing of people for information. Something to discuss with her Master after this was all done. Definitely not enough of a damper on her mood since there was plenty for her to be pleased with. If she had attempted this when she first joined the Sith, there was no doubts that Eira would have attempted to fight and kill any of the Jedi that she could have sensed and knew by their face.

That was something that showed she was stepping away from the feral attitude that she had recognised herself holding when her Master called her out on it. Especially given the feral attitude Eira held when fighting.

Breathing in deeply, the night air was refreshingly cool, letting her body relax and drop in temperature from the stuffy, warm grand hall. Eira walked gently, her heels clicking quieter than they did while she was in the masquerade ball. A softer sway of her hips as she was not attempting to draw attention to herself this time around. Eira was not working so she let herself be a bit more of her natural self. However, not fully the Sith Eira was, since she was still within the High Republic space. This was more of a relaxed lady after a long day.

Her hands were placed in front of her as she did not have any glasses of wine to tap with her fingernails. Eira had only consumed a glass, perhaps two, but she was not there to dull her senses or get drunk. That would backfire and Eira was rarely one to imbibe in such beverages. For now, she was getting a lay of the lands, seeing where attacks on the city could work and trying to think of ways to damage the Jedi presence here. Seeing what additional information that Eira could take back to the Sith Order in order to help in any plans that could be set to destroy the Jedi once and for all.

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda had been pretending to watch the street until he realized he wasn't pretending very well. The woman from the masquerade moved through the courtyard like a shadow with a purpose; something in the set of her shoulders made him stop timing his breath.

He pushed himself off the low stone wall and walked over, coat swinging loose, neck tattoos peeking at the collar. He kept his voice low—more to himself than to her—so it sounded like a mutter, the sort of thing you say when the thought won't leave you alone.

"—northwest gate light's on a short circuit when the gusts hit, blows the sensor out for nearly two minutes. Serves as enough of a blind spot to get past a patrol if someone timed it right."

He froze for a beat, embarrassed by the sudden tactical voice that didn't fit the polite mask he'd worn earlier. "Sorry," he said quickly, awkward heat rising in his cheeks. "I—I'm not trying to be weird. I shouldn't have just walked off in there. Crowds…they do a number on me. I meant to stay. Didn't. Sorry."


He rubbed the back of his neck, offering a crooked, apologetic smile. "I didn't catch your name. I probably made an idiot of myself at the bar." His fingers tightened around the glass as if it were an anchor. "If you—uh—if you aren't busy, I can…try to explain. Or not. Either is fine."

Eira Dyn

 

[Eira Dyn]

Outfit: Dress with Mask
Equipment: None
Tag: Korda Veydran

She heard the muttering of things that Eira suspected that Korda was either trying to supply information for Eira or poorly make a quiet note to himself. Though he could also not realise how sensitive the hearing of others was, though Eira's was sensitive due to the Force allowing her to hear more. It was something she had been doing all evening to eavesdrop on many of the conversations that happened. It was risky since the mind was something that could get sensory overload from all the new information and how much information it would receive. Fortunately for Eira, she did not suffer from that for tonight, perhaps the focus on tuning into conversations that she believed would gift her information was something that prevented it from feeling all too much.

"Talking of such flaws, publicly, I can only hope you are going to deliver such flaws to the security team of this fine mansion." Eira stated in a cool tone, she was unsure of why he stumbled away from her, heading off to the bar before she had a chance to converse with him. It was as if her presence had been too much for him. Which, she couldn't blame him if true since she certainly looked the most elegant she had in years. But it was rude to not mention that being the reason for leaving.

Then she couldn't be pleased with her appearance.

"Surprising you turned up to such an event then, crowds are pretty inevitable at balls and masquerade parties. Something to keep in mind for the future," Eira gave a small grin, keeping a teasing tone to her voice, though she tried to maintain a refined appearance. "My name is Lady Keela of House Caevolus from Kalinda. An honour for you, I am sure." She raised a hand for him to kiss, something she had seen and known many ladies of high nobility to do. Her attitude and the way in which she spoke was something she was mimicking mostly from her Master but also others that she had observed from prestigious families.

She blinked casually, looking around the empty space they were in, then turned back to him. "Well, there does not seem to be a crowd, or a bar. So, please, enlighten me on what occurred earlier." Eira gave a soft smile, showing that she wasn't trying to offend or hurt the man with her words or tone. Curious on what happened for his reaction to have happened.

 

[Korda Veydran]

Korda let out a low, humorless sound that might have been a laugh, though it carried the weight of a sigh. "Security can keep their flaws," he muttered, his gaze drifting toward the gate he'd pointed out. "Let them learn the hard way. Arrogance breeds the best lessons. It always did."

He stepped closer, his movements measured but heavy — like a man dragging chains no one else could see. When she offered her hand, he hesitated only a heartbeat before taking it. His calloused fingers, rough with old burns and scars, looked out of place against her smooth skin. He bowed slightly, pressing his lips to her knuckles in a gesture that felt borrowed from another life.

"Lady Keela of House Caevolus," he said quietly. "The honor's mine."

Then his jaw clenched. The veneer of formality cracked, and under his breath came a sharp curse in Mando'a. "Osik." He exhaled through his nose, as if forcing himself back into the present. "Sorry. It's… reflex."

He stepped back a half pace, tugging at the collar of his suit as though it were choking him. The fabric strained faintly across his shoulders — a cut made for nobility, not for a man built to bear armor and weight. The line of his body betrayed the tension he tried to suppress; every movement was deliberate restraint. The suit hid the scars but couldn't soften the man underneath.

"I thought I could handle it," he said finally, his voice quieter now, raw around the edges. "The crowd. The masks. The sound of laughter. It all looked so… clean. But under all that perfume and light, it smelled like every hall I ever fought in — the ones that burned after the fighting stopped."

His gaze dropped to the ground, the faint gleam of his glass reflecting his face in broken amber. "You ever stand in a place where everything feels wrong because it's too perfect? Where you start thinking everyone around you is wearing masks to hide what they've done?"

He shook his head, almost to himself. "I used to be a soldier. Shock trooper, siege breaker. I tore down cities, left craters where people lived. And for what? Orders. Pay. Names I barely remember." His throat worked, and the next words came softer. "You come home, and you start to realize there's no home left for people like that. So you put on a suit, drink expensive liquor, and pretend you fit in. But the suit always feels like it's trying to strangle you."

For a long moment, he stared past her — toward the lights of the mansion, the silhouettes of walls and towers in the distance. Then his voice dropped again, a rasped confession meant more for the night than for her.

"When I walked off… it wasn't you. It was me trying not to bleed all over something decent."


He looked back to her finally, eyes tired but steady. "Didn't work, I guess."

Eira Dyn