First Reply Among Marble and Moons (THR preferred)

[Vaerelyn Thorne]

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Location: Theeds, Naboo
Objective: Slow Introduction to Republic Life and Responsibilities
Outfit: Dress and cloak/cape
Tag: OPEN (Preferred Senator or Senator adjacent)

Vaerelyn Thorne had imagined Naboo a hundred different ways during the long hyperspace voyage from the Mokk system. None of them had been quiet enough. The world beneath the descending shuttle looked almost unreal through the viewport glass—vast lakes like polished mirrors, green hills untouched by industry, pale stone cities rising from the landscape with elegance instead of necessity. Even Theed seemed less constructed than composed, as though every tower and arch had been convinced to grow naturally from the cliffs themselves.

Gorath's Haven had beauty. But Gorath's beauty had always been survival. Weathered terraces carved into stubborn mountain stone. Timber halls reinforced against seasonal storms. The old Founder’s Hull still resting where it had crashed generations ago, preserved as both shrine and warning. Even Harvest Spire—with all its recent expansion—still carried the rough practicality of a people who remembered what it meant to nearly starve beneath an alien sky.

Naboo did not feel like survival. It felt like confidence. And that unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Vaerelyn stood near the shuttle ramp as it lowered with a hydraulic hiss, the warm Naboo air brushing against the layered fabrics of her traveling attire. The silver-blue garments had been chosen carefully before departure—formal enough for a senator, but unmistakably Gorathi in their cut and embroidery. Flowing wraps crossed over fitted leather beneath, accented with woven metallic threading that mimicked the sweeping curves of Mokk VIII’s rings. Upon her chest, held by a chain around her neck, rested a polished pendant carved from Havenstone, dark and flecked faintly with crystalline shimmer.

A piece of home. A reminder.

The sounds of the capital greeted her immediately. Waterfalls in the distance. Civilian speeders overhead. Music somewhere beyond the landing platform. Voices without urgency. Too many voices.

For a moment Vaerelyn simply stood there absorbing it all while attendants and protocol aides moved around her. The High Republic had approved Gorath’s Haven’s representation quickly enough once the Mokkan Directorate finalized its recognition of the colony’s autonomy beneath the broader Mokk VIII charter. Politically convenient. Strategically useful. Another vote in an increasingly unstable galaxy.

But convenience did not make her belong here. Her pale amber eyes drifted upward toward the skyline of Theed. Toward the Senate district beyond. Toward the place where she would now speak for an entire world.

The thought settled heavily against her ribs. Not because she doubted Gorath’s Haven deserved a voice. But because she knew exactly how small her world looked from here.

A remote agricultural moon orbiting a gas giant in an isolated system most senators had likely never heard of until the paperwork crossed their desks. A people descended from forgotten laborers and colonists. Farmers. Marsh hunters. River traders. Mechanics. Families that still measured wealth in harvest yields and community standing more than credits.

And now she was expected to stand among career politicians and Core World aristocrats as their equal. Vaerelyn exhaled slowly. Then straightened. No. Not their equal. Their representative. There was a difference.

The Force moved faintly around her—not dramatic, not mystical, just a subtle awareness brushing against the emotions nearby. Curiosity from aides. Mild skepticism from security personnel. Passing interest from civilians watching the newest arrival disembark. And beneath it all, her own nervousness threatening to tighten in her chest.

She buried it carefully. Gorathi did not survive by appearing fragile.

Her boots clicked softly against the polished stone as she descended the ramp at last. The twin moons embroidered into the edge of her cloak shifted with each step. Behind her followed a modest delegation from Gorath’s Haven carrying datacases and trade portfolios rather than ceremonial grandeur. Agricultural projections. Expansion proposals. Infrastructure requests. Real things. Useful things. That, at least, felt grounding.

Vaerelyn paused at the edge of the platform as the sunlight caught across the waters below Theed’s terraces. Beautiful. Peaceful. Dangerously easy to become lost in. A faint smile touched her lips anyway. “Alright,” she murmured softly to herself in accented Basic. “Let’s see if the galaxy is willing to listen.” And with that, Senator Vaerelyn Thorne of Gorath’s Haven stepped fully onto Naboo soil for the first time.

 

[Cynan Obaith]

Location: Theeds, Naboo
Outfit: Maroon Jacket and Black suit
Tag: Vaerelyn Thorne

"Mother, I do not think Gwen is going to be in trouble on her own on Corellia. It is not a planet living in some outlawed life." Cynan sighed deeply as he was realising it was not good that his mother was this upset over Gwen's staying with him. Especially since he had not yet broached the topic of Gwen not returning home after her break from studies was over.

That felt like it was going to be a conversation held not in person. Just to ensure he did not meet an early grave.

"She has both too many and too few guards on her at all times. Her retinue of protection is better than my own!" Cynan exclaimed with a sigh exasperated sense to his voice.

Cynan's mother turned fiercely towads him, a glare in her eyes that caused him to step back. "What do you mean too many and too few? Do you endanger my eldest daughter?!"

"No, no! Just that she has more than ten guards, that is more than most would ever need to protect them... However, she is still very capable in slipping from their protection when she desires a break from the crowding that they cause..." Cynan looked to Sawel with a plea of help in his eyes as his mother's stare only intensified. He knew full well that she was not pleased with his answer and if he wanted to survive this conversation then his right hand needed to grab him and drag him away.

"She escapes! Hire better guards! This is my daughter's life you toy with! Your only flesh and blood! How can you be so cavalier to hire mediocre guards! I knew it! I knew Corellia was too dangerous for that girl!" His mother ranted loudly, and very aggressively towards Cynan as he continued to take steps back out of the store. "Get back here Cynan Llewelyn Owain Obaith!"

"My lord, you are needed for a meeting at the senate?" Sawel offered weakly to help Cynan escape the situation.

With a quick wave, Cynan dashed out the store, "must go mother, discuss this more later!" Trailed behind him as he shifted through the Naboo streets. Breathing a sigh of relief that he had gotten out of that lioness den relatively unharmed. Looking back, he saw that Sawel was following not far behind. "You do need to work on providing better and quicker lies to my mother, Sawel. Nearly lost my head there. The woman is far too sharp for me to deceive, she has called out my behaviour since I was knee high."

Sawel nodded his head with a chuckle as they turned a corner and Cynan spotted the woman. Someone clearly new to Naboo, taking in the beauty of the world for the first time and enjoying everything that had to be offered. Cynan grinned, it was always good to see those new to Naboo enjoy what had once become something overly familiar and lost wonder to himself. The attire and the way that this woman carried herself held an air of authority that signalled to Cynan she was not just another visitor, offworlder coming to enjoy a vacation.

This was someone here with a mission. Which meant that he could offer his assistance.

Walking forward, Cynan tidied his hair a little and offered a casual, friendly grin. "Greetings, I can see you are new to Naboo. Cynan Obaith, senator for Corellia. Would I be correct in guessing that you are here for something important?"

 

[Vaerelyn Thorne]

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Location: Theeds, Naboo
Objective: Slow Introduction to Republic Life and Responsibilities
Outfit: Dress and cloak/cape
Tag: Cynan Obaith

Vaerelyn had only begun to settle into the rhythm of Theed when the sharp rise of an older woman’s voice carried across the nearby promenade. The Gorathi senator turned her head instinctively toward the commotion, pale amber eyes following the retreating figure of a man escaping with the practiced urgency of someone who had survived similar encounters before. The sight nearly pulled a smile from her before she caught herself.

Nearly. The exchange had been oddly...humanizing. Not polished political theater. Not carefully measured senate performance. Just family frustration spilling into public view beneath Naboo’s sunlight. It reminded her unexpectedly of home. Of stern marsh-matrons scolding grown sons at market docks while pretending not to be proud of them.

Her attention lingered perhaps a second longer than necessary as the man straightened himself and approached. The easy confidence in his posture suggested experience with diplomacy, but there was still enough lingering amusement in his expression to keep him from feeling rehearsed. Vaerelyn assessed him carefully as he drew closer. Well dressed without appearing vain. Alert eyes. Attractive.

That realization arrived more quickly than she would have preferred. The faint warmth that touched her cheeks afterward irritated her slightly more than the realization itself. Control yourself. By the time Cynan introduced himself, her composure had largely returned. Largely.

At the mention of Corellia and his senatorial position, Vaerelyn inclined her head into a respectful, graceful bow rather than offering an immediate handshake. Gorathi customs still clung stubbornly to gestures of acknowledgment before familiarity.

“Senator Obaith,” she greeted softly, her voice carrying the calm cadence of the Rim rather than the polished accents of the Core Worlds.

Sunlight caught across the gold filigree woven through her attire as she straightened again. Her clothing carried clear Gorathi influence while still embracing the elegance expected within Naboo’s political circles—a fitted deep green bodice embroidered with delicate metallic threading resembling curling vines and ring patterns inspired by Mokk VIII. Cream-colored layered fabric draped from her shoulders in soft flowing panels like ceremonial cloaks, moving gently with each shift of the breeze.

Golden jewelry rested in careful layers against her collarbone and chest, understated enough for diplomacy yet intricate enough to reveal status. Amber gemstones shimmered warmly within the settings, echoing the color of her eyes. The small curved horns rising through her dark waves only added to the striking impression she made amidst the refined crowds of Theed, while her long pointed ears bore delicate hanging ornaments that swayed subtly as she moved.

“You would be correct.” There was a brief hesitation then. Not uncertainty in who she was, but the lingering strangeness of saying it aloud here. Of making it real. “I am Xaerelyn Thorne,” she continued, the corner of her mouth lifting faintly. “The newly appointed senator representing Mokk VIII, its colony moon Gorath’s Haven... and the Gorathi people.”

Even now the title felt heavy. Not unpleasant. Simply immense. Her gaze flicked briefly toward the skyline beyond him before returning to Cynan. There was curiosity in her expression now alongside caution. Corellia was not some insignificant Outer Rim holding. Neither was its senator likely to be politically unimportant. And yet his first interaction with her had been fleeing his mother through the streets of Theed. That contrast amused her more than she expected.

“I admit,” Xaerelyn said after a moment, a touch more warmth entering her tone, “I did not expect one of the first senators I encountered here to arrive immediately after escaping familial interrogation.”

A very subtle teasing glimmer appeared in her eyes then. “Though I suspect your mother may still consider the encounter unfinished.”