Antebellum | CIS Dominion of Iktotch (U, 38)

[Shia Kryze]

​

Shia chuckled throatily into the kiss as Mishel pulled her close...

... some time later after a too-short flight she shook her head and gently pressed one finger against Mishel's lips.

"Incorrigible." She purred, not at all demanding or upset. She paused briefly to stretch a muscle back into place, then rose to her feet and padded down the access stairs from the shuttle, pulling Mishel along with her as she went hunting the front desk to collect these access cards.

"And going waaaaay back in the conversation, there's more to fashion than dresses. You don't see me in a dress that often, do you?" She gently poked Mishel's leather jacket. "That looks good on you, but... well, I'm sure we can work with that look." Yes. Thinking about it you could do a lot with a jacket like that, or leather jackets unlike that... she was pretty sure Mishel didn't know what she'd just opened herself up to.

The spaceport wasn't difficult to navigate, which was a lot better than some. The planet... actually wasn't that bad, not that she'd admit that just yet. She'd been on far worse, and the locals seemed pleasant and reasonably friendly at first brush.

She practically bounced up to the reception desk, a bright smile on her face as she confronted the droid receptionist.

"Su cuy'gar! We're here to pick up some access cards from the Minister of Commerce, for one Mishel? Mish, give the nice droid your DNA print."

[member="Mishel Noren"] | [member="Alessandra Creed"]
​

 

[Queen Bots™]

​

O P E R A T I O N​

A S S I M I L A T E​

Tags: [member="Helly Reyne"] | [member="Efried Halbrecht"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Alessandra Creed"]​

---

Taeree Uhn
Prime Minister of Iktotch
The Prime Minister remained silent for a long moment after each Confederate representative had their say. It wasn’t a matter of rudeness, or a tactic to delay, but more of a matter of gauging the temperature of the room before speaking. He could not read these people very clearly. Two of them barely seemed to be made of flesh. They carried themselves as if they were nobility, and the Iktotchi did their best to respect all cultures, even if, it seemed unnecessary to them. Another of the individuals seemed to be made of stone, whilst the last, the multi-colored female seemed to be, emotionally speaking, the most human of them all. Even if it wasn’t quite true.

“I am glad to hear that, Exarch Malvern. The overall safety of our people is all we desire. We are far enough from the Core that we escaped the wrath of the Sith but even still, we felt the waves, as I’m sure many nations did. We will send our military advisors to speak to your Minister of War to arrange the most advantageous placement of a starport and garrison. This is agreeable.”

The Viceroy of Tatooine [[member="Helly Reyne"]] spoke next. The Prime Minister gave the female the same rapt attention that he had afforded the Exarch. All of these titles meant something within the Confederacy, he was certain, but on this world, they were all people trying to make the lives of the Iktotchi safer. Better. “I am uncertain of the timeframe, Viceroy Reyne, though I am grateful for your concern. We simply know that something is coming. Our abilities to see that which has not yet unfolded can be obscured. The strongest of us are constantly communing with the Force but the future is uncertain. A single decision can change the course of any war.”

“We wish to be prepared.”

He quieted for a moment, waiting, while the dark-haired female beside the Exarch continued to make a few notes on a datapad. The Minister of Commerce was said to be a shrewd woman, though, fair in her assessments. When she spoke of the Planetary Tax he nodded his head in acceptance. It was expected. Trade was kept with fair, low tariffs, within the Confederacy—Balanced by fixed-rate taxation. “We are prepared to do our part. We will try to ascertain a Viceroy, however, if none seem fitting we will request a nomination at a later date. We will have time correct?”

Another question, this time, from [member="Efried Halbrecht"]. A soldier of the Eternal Empire. Taeree Uhn did not know what to expect, no truly, but the precognition that his species were blessed with gave him moments to prepare. His hand moved, slightly, as he nodded his head. “A reasonable inquiry. We can only give that which we have. Ourselves. Our bodies, our blood, our intuition, and our strength.”

The Iktotchi were resilient. They adapted, learned, and grew with the demands of the galaxy.

“We have capable warriors and adept pilots. We are willing to fight, though, we could use more stringent training with the future to come—but our strongest offering must be our connection to the ethereal. As I mentioned…We often witness events before they happen.”

Their people had even been banned from most casinos in the universe, simply, because there was no fooling them once the paths converged into a single truth. They were not popular at all on Canto Bight.

“Overall, we agree to terms. Have you further concerns?”

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Mishel smirked and did nothing to suppress her cat-like growl. "Mhmm always."

The Tygaran was happily dragged along behind and listened as Shia made mention of fashion, dresses and, "not very often, but I - I, hey, listen I love that you love to dress up but it's not my thing." And yes, Shia looked amazing in her current dress. Mishel could not deny it, "and yeah, yeah this jacket goes with like everything." She admitted, "besides have I told you that you look amazing in that by the way?" A gesture to the dress and then a series of chuckles as she watched the Rattataki bounce up to the front desk. Mishel laughed louder than she should have, admittedly.

"Oh yeah, forgot that was a thing," she walked up to the front desk and pressed her thumb to the card, "thanks, and plus - yeah."

"Here you go, babe." Mishel handed Shia her access card, they were also given a map, "oh man it's like I'm in SIthland."

She turned away from the front desk, "okay well we should ... uh, well let me text Alé."

Mishel sent a message to her sister; we're in the lobby, where do you wanna go?

[member="Alessandra Creed"] | [member="Shia Kryze"]

 

[Naedira Darcrath]

​

Location: Restaurant | Tag: @Ithiel Verd | Dressed in Plain Clothes​

There was a frame of mind that the young woman often fell into. It was one that fell into lines of absolute decision, and absolute, control. Everything she did as a Knight Obsidian was empowered by the leaders of the Confederacy itself. She stood on equal footing with her brothers and sisters in arms. They all held equal rank, aside from the Dominus, and they all suffered the same fates. With that in mind, regardless, whether she was a stranger or not—she would not hesitate to put either man through the well-maintained bar top if either moved in a way she didn’t like.

One, was a co-worker, and a brother. He’d survive it. The other?

She wouldn’t cry if the imposter permanently lost the use of his legs. Then, perhaps, he would learn not to take the identity of his betters.

Naedira stared long and hard at the man behind the bar. His goggles hid his eyes, unnervingly so, but she was no less aware of him than she was the newcomer. Every bit of her senses remained focused, almost, as if she had a line of sight where she should not. The tension was there, thick enough to cut with a knife, but she didn’t move yet. Not, yet.

She would wait until Faux-Ithiel showed his hand.

“Any day now. None of us are getting younger.”

If only it would be that simple.

Naedira turned to glance at the seated male that decided it was a good idea to level any sort of weapon in her direction. The goldenrod corruption that fled into chocolate eyes, clearly, expressed the strong desire to make him eat it. She didn’t miss the communicator. She also, didn’t miss the movements from Bartender Ithiel. He seemed to be trying to signal her, though still, she was at a loss. Who to trust?

“We could all leave together…”, she trailed off softly, and shifted her stance, moving closer toward the Gun-Happy Ithiel. If he shot at her everything would change. Everything. No longer would she play by the rules and seek to de-escalate the problem. “If you stopped pointing that at me.”

She smiled. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t nice. It wasn’t flirtatious, though, it would easily clue Bartender-Ithiel in on what she wanted. A brief distraction. When she heard the less than subtle crack of glass she moved, imbued with the Force, and faster than most could anticipate. She crossed the distance to the table and went for the weapon, first, and secured it by seizing the man’s wrist. She then twisted it as painfully as possible before shoving his head down face first into the table. “Who are you? Who were you talking to and why are you impersonating a Knight?”

She applied more pressure and the table creaked. Naedira was far stronger than she looked, especially, with Sith corruption burned in her eyes. Nothing about her found any sort of amusement.

“Lie to me, and I will hurt you. Avoid the question, and I will hurt you. Slowly.”

 

[Srina Talon]

​

Location: Seedy Cantina​

Objective: Meeting A Friend​

Wearing: Inappropriate Exarch Clothing​

Tags: [member="Darth Tacitus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Veronika Fleischer"]​

---

As dangerous as [member="Darth Tacitus"] was, in all his terrible splendor, it never occurred to Srina to fear him. He was powerful. Stronger than she was, certainly, but his beastly visage had never bothered her. Not once she realized he was still the same. Still the man she knew. It also never crossed her mind that anyone seeing the brief exchange, may wonder, about the nature of their friendship. Echani were physical creatures that were made for tactile stability over finding comfort in words. Kainan knew that.

As such, she didn’t blink when he sat with her, nor did she wonder why. He was her friend. Confidant. Of course he would share a meal with her.

The Echani offered [member="Veronika Fleischer"] a ghostly smile when she spoke her name. It was a relief to hear it without some sort of overused, overcomplicated, honorific attached. White-hold hair swayed like spun silk when she shifted to get comfortable. Truthfully, Srina had no idea where to start, when it came to getting to know the worlds of the Confederacy. There were so many. It was an endless swimming sea of faces. With that in mind, she often turned to the Holo-Net to take in different events around their space.

Sometimes, however, she had a hard time telling reality television programming from the truth of a people. That was where her lack of social awareness came into play.

Worse than that on occasion it seemed as if these shows weren’t entirely wrong. It was made for entertainment, and the loss of brain cells, but she still found some incredible similarities.

It was a small wonder she hadn’t started a war yet.

The subject of [member="Scherezade deWinter"] continued and Srina felt her eyes fixate on Madalena. It felt like a lifetime ago, since, she had last sat at a dinner table with the green-eyed Knight. She’d been so lost, before. Part of the Mandragora, but only, in the service of the Nightmother. “You speak of things that you do not know, Knight Antares. It is not common nor is it accepted.”

She did not scold her. The tone of which she used was plain, soft, though unyielding. It was terrifyingly strange to tell someone that they didn’t know themselves. “…I have already apologized for the misunderstanding, which is something I rarely do. Your doppelganger was very troubled. When I first interacted with her she attempted to stab my Master in the heart.”

Her attention turned, as if they had been discussing the weather, when [member="Darth Tacitus"] stated that he wouldn’t be eating anything. Srina reached out to touch his arm, a barely there frown crossing her lips, whilst elegant brows furrowed. “Nothing? If I must, so should you.”

Veronika let the group know that she had ordered something to share and Srina again rewarded the flaxen-haired female with a wintry smile. The changes in her expression were small, so miniscule, that one really had to stare to know they were happening. “Thank you. I would like that very much. I have not eaten many of these items…”

“And I have learned that the kitchen is not an arena I should enter.”

Not unless she wanted to blow someone up. Poison them. Or, give them some type of incurable cancer. Her focus shifted once again when [member="Scherezade deWinter"] began to discuss something called Bantha Wings. Her head tilted, white hair moving, before silver eyes flickered with a small light of recognition. “[member="Darth Metus"] spoke of this, once. But he called them spicy nuna wings. I have not tried that either.”

In truth, most would think that Srina was a vegan. It wasn’t true. She just couldn’t cook and had developed simple tastes. Sometimes, meat could be a little too strong, or a little too heavy, but she wasn’t against trying something new. When the wings arrived Madalena would find Srina watching her with expectant glacier eyes so she would know how to eat them.

The little Exarch was skeoptical. “They look…Messy.”

But, not unappealing. The smell was pleasant enough.

 

[Ithiel Vi'Dreya]

Location: Hole in the wall restaurant
Objectives: Politely Questioning a Rat, with [member="Naedira Darcrath"].
Post: #5
Gear: Grey Jacket with Hood, Black T-Shirt, Black Jeans, Filtering-Googles on as always. Some armorweave perhaps somewhere but not on show.
Weapons Under the Bar: Jacknife sonic concussion pistol(s) x2, his saber, and a scattergun laying holstered. Duel Vibroknives and a few throwing knives concealed.

Whatever bit of kit Faux Ithiel had been using to change his appearance didn’t like the table meeting it face first. It flickered, fizzed and went off to reveal a younger man about Ithiel’s size and build. Dark skinned, the same sort of voice, but a clearly different face. “Just doing my job lady, ease up.” He was a good pick to look like Ithiel from a distance, even without the stealth field, someone had hand-picked him.

Bartender Ithiel was walking over as well, with one of the other bartenders in tow. “Whatever this is, don’t wreck the tables.” Ithiels arms were crossed again, he did that a lot, it also kept his hands from being threatening. As far as the real Ithiel was concerned, he was a bartender and this was his shift. Wasn’t it? The drugs were wearing off.

Faux Ithiel gritted his teeth under the pressure, and the creaking table below him only frightened him some more. “Alright. Alright.”. He tried to compose himself. “Look! Just look. I send information. Wear this face or that, go where they tell me and play a part. Been here a spell.”

“Can’t we make a deal?” Faux Itheil asked. “Before you go questioning who or where lady, when he shows up, if you know who or where then I’m already dead.” The younger man under her hand tried to reason with her. “But if you just let me go, I’ll lead them off.”

The real Ithiel kept his distance, kept his hands where she could see him, he was smart enough to not antagonize the situation, not backing down much either. “Who are you?” Ithiel again looked at [member="Naedira Darcrath"], deadpan calm to his expression, “really?” He was beginning to remember faint images, things about the past. Luckily the bar wasn’t that busy, or people here were just used to someone getting their a** kicked because nobody else said much either. One or two drinkers had left but there was no substantial change in the atmosphere.

The nearest former clan Varad crusader offered over the bottle to Ithiel, but he shook his head. The Mandalorian took a swig himself, clearly going through the same symptoms, and hoping to wash his head clean with liquor. Probably not the best move.

[member="Naedira Darcrath"]​

 

[Luca Donskoi]

HERO’S​

WELCOME​

Location: Street of Ankhela, Iktotch​

Objective(s): Take in the Festivities​

Attire: Flight Suit (No Helmet/Gloves​

Tag(s): [member='Mauer'] (Feel Free to Join)​

Post: 1​

I didn’t get to do anything like this often, and really, it kind of seemed as though the Confederacy was laughing at me at this point. “Sure! You want to time planet side? How about Iktotch?” Yes, send me to a satellite to a gas giant that was practically inhospitable. It’s hard to believe any species evolved here to survive the cacophony of endless sand-and-gravel windstorms the ripped across the moon’s – well for lack of a better description – desolate, rocky surface. But there was a species that had evolved here and a hardy one at that. I really shouldn’t complain, though. I mean, I did ask for this after all. All I had to do was play escort for the transports carrying the various delegations to the planet and then afterwards was free time for me. At least until it was time to depart.

As I finally guided what was the final transport to the space port, I identified a spot for myself to land and requested my clearance to do so. It was given and I immediately made my way in that direction, seeing the people lining the streets as I made that last pass over the city. Easing back on the thrusters, I pulled the nose of the ship slightly upward and rotated her 180 degrees in a clockwise fashion, then set her down with the expertise of the most veteran of pilots. That’s one thing I was good at, and at that, I was good, really good. The landing gears hissed and moaned, letting loose a plume of white vapors before I power it down and released myself for the cockpit, pulling off my helmet and gloves. There they would be secured in the locked cockpit until I made my return to play escort once more.

The port was a somewhat extravagant one, or maybe the fact that all I’d seen lately in that regard had been ship hangars and Hutt space pads – if you could even call them that. It been since before the Alliance fell that my eyes had fallen upon a decent port; it was a nice change.

I motion to an Iktotchi that appeared to be a custodian for the port. “If you don’t mind topping her off, it’d be much appreciated,” I suggested as I walked past. The native didn’t respond in any kind of manner other than a slight dip of the head. Perhaps some sort of affirmation? Maybe not; he just might have been trying to be nice if he didn’t actually understand what I was saying. If he didn’t, it wasn’t like I didn’t have enough full remaining to get me through my obligations for day.

Still, this was a good day, even if it was on a Force forsaken moon. I knew this and that likely why I hurried my way through the port and out into the city.

As the city opened up in front of me, I really got a new perspective on it. One always does when they’re comparing to what they’ve seen while flying. I was late, but really it seemed as though things were just coming into full swing. I could see a few familiar faces from the Confederacy out in the streets and passing from vendor to vendor, but none I had seen more than a handful of times. And certainly no one I could place a name to.

Stepping further out into the city, I came to a stall conveniently poised by the street on my right and whatever they were selling there, really drew my attention. The smell was immaculate and if my growling stomach was any indication, I was starving.

 

[Shia Kryze]

“Sithland is a place? Do they do Sithshakes? Carnifex Fries?”

Shia stopped to consider what she’d just said, then looked around with a slightly more aware gaze, then she looked over at the map. Mishel’s irreverence was rubbing off on her, apparently.

“Oh, I see. Sorry, I was assaulted by images of you in a leather jacket. Just a leather jacket. I mean, if that’s your thing...”

She was not given to huge amounts of overt vanity, but Mishel’s compliment got a genuine smile from her and she spun gracefully on the spot as she let her sentence trail off.

“Not huge or lumbering?” She teased down at the smaller woman. Although smaller and women often went together with Shia, given the fact she was huge.

[member="Mishel Kryze"]​

 

[Veronika Fleischer]

HERO'S WELCOME​

Location: A cantina which she could not remember
Objective: Mingling with other CIS members
Wearing: A feminine red suit & Chrisyakova limited edition heels
Weaponry: Trusty lightsaber tucked inside her suit pocket

The blonde witch found herself in a somewhat awkward company. None of her companions were drinking, with the green eyed Knight who claimed not to be [member="Scherezade deWinter"] having a valid reason to abstain. At least Madalena was more socially adapt when it was time to mingle. The Sith lord [member="Darth Tacitus"] fared the worst with a thick wall built around himself, declining the offer of eating any food placed onto the table with a grim look. The Exrach was somewhere in the middle between awkwardness and friendly, offering the blonde an icy smile that she could only guess to be the equivalent of friendliness. Veronika had heard about the echani being more reserved than others, but [member="Srina Talon"] was extraordinary so.

"You will not regret trying the food that I have ordered, Srina." Veronika gave an appreciative smile back to the white haired lady who seemed glad to addressed by her name. The echani even did her best to uplift the atmosphere by asking the dark lord to stop pouring cold water over the gathering and eat something. Veronika made a mental note that the white haired lady was probably more approachable than her cold appearance, liking the Exrarch slightly more. The food platter was laid in the middle, consisting of finger food such as star fries, medium rare Bantha steaks, mini burgers with nerf patties and sweet tasty nuts. The pile of Bantha wings rested next to the platter, their juciness glistering with a mix of spicy sauce.

"Looks like today is my cheat day," Veronika beamed and whipped out of her holodevice, turning on the camera mode to capture the company around the table. She did not mind even if Darth Tacitus remained gloomy looking, deciding that the opportunity to capture the moment was too priceless. "The only good way to enjoy Bantha wings is to use your hands," she nodded and picked up one of the juicy wings in her fingers and took a bite. She knew that Madalena would probably understand the uselessnss of utensils for wings and would eat the wings. She could only hope that the other two would follow suit.

"Mmmmph... delicious..." The blonde waved at the holodevice which was still shooting her and smiled for her fans before stopping it with her clean hand. She then looked at Srina and Kainan with a purposeful glance, urging them to try as well.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

H E R O ‘ S​

W E L C O M E​

Wearing: Obsidian type Strike Armor | Honey Boo Prototype Combat Boots | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis
Wielding: 10 Czerka knives | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Fire and Smoke (lightsabers) | Hidden Wrist Blades
Location: Walking around, guard duty
Tags: [member="Darth Tacitus"] [member="Veronika Fleischer"] [member="Srina Talon"]

Of course Mr. Grubby Hands didn't want to eat anything. Why was Madalena not really surprised? Still, she watched him carefully as he made his little announcements, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of his eyes and claws and any other features that could make someone think he was anything other than human. While the blood hound could easily sniff out blood lines and species, there was nothing that ailed him that her special abilities could pick up. But it only took a moment to digest all of that before she shrugged, returning her attention to the two other ladies at the table.

First was Exarch Talon, speaking once again of that Scherezade that Madalena could never find. No, she did not know, but maybe it didn't even matter. She lofted her brow at the sound of that other woman having tried to stab Talon's master in the heart. But… Wait, who was her master? Master implied someone that outranked her, and the only person within the Confederacy who could make that claim was… The Vicedude.

So this girl had apparently attempted to stab the Vicedude in the heart. As a Knight Obsidian, the mere thought was abhorrent to Madalena. How had Scherezade come even close enough to make the attempt? Was security really that bad around him? And if she'd tried to do that, then why…

Madalen carefully regained control of her features. Of course. That was the only logical solution. There was a woman who attempted to assassinate the Vicedude, there were no records of her within Confederacy datafiles, and if she'd been that woman and gotten randomly grabbed like that, everyone would've been perfectly fine with it. So the only logical conclusion from all of that… Was that the Confederacy made that other girl disappear. Madalena Antares was sitting at a table with at least two people whom she could now see as potential puppeteers, orchestrating the disappearance of someone who in all likelihood had done something to deserve it.

It was an unsettling thought.

Forcing a smile on her face, Madalena looked at the Bantha Wings as they arrived with the rest of the food.

"Cheat day?" she blinked at the blonde sitting next to her. Why did someone like her need a cheat day? Usually those types of bodies tended to stay thin no matter what. Madalena herself ate pretty much whatever she wanted, but She was about five to ten sizes bigger than most of the other women in the Confederacy. She was pretty sure that if she didn't work out like a beast she'd easily end up a couch potato in front of the HNN or something. It was a good thing she liked to move around and be active.

Either way, she agreed with Veronika. You ate wings with your hands.

"It can get uber messy," she laughed, "but I found the trick for it when I was in high school. You only use one hand, and your tongue. This way you have one clean hand left for anything you might need to do."

To demonstrate, she picked a Bantha Wing up. Bantha Wings came in two shapes; the part of the wing that looked like a mini drumstick, and the other part that had two bones. The one she'd taken was a two bone one, and she put half of it horizontally in her mouth, shredding one of the bones away from the other. Placing it on the plate, she then proceeded to put the other half in her mouth.

When it came out a few seconds later, the bones were sparkly clean, white, and looked like someone had attempted to bleach them for cleanliness.

"Not a hard skill, but might require some basic training," she grinned. The taste of cream and chili and roasted meat was strong in her mouth. She loved it. "My mother used to be able to do it to entire wings in under two seconds. She won several eating competitions that way."

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

​

Post #5​

Objective: Deal with the 'food'​

Attn: [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Scherezade DeWinter"] | [member="Veronika Fleischer"]​

​

• The Last Call
  A seedy little cantina tucked away on Iktotch

Tacitus was not a malleable man. When he made a decision, it had the tendency to be final and irrevocable. While his demeanor was usually formal and diplomatic, he did not hesitate to put a swift end to things he disagreed with. So many would have been surprised of his reaction to the Exarch's insistence. The Emperor of Nelvaan simply shook his head, a the faint traces of a ghostly smile on his lips. Somehow, Srina always could get him to do what she wanted. His usual defenses and reservations had a way of crumbling before her.

Then focus changed to the topic at hand, that being Scherezade's questionable choice of food. He knew what these so-called 'bantha wings' were, they were popular amongst some the mercenaries he spent a sizeable part of his life working with. The loud and boisterous kind. Tacitus was not exactly delighted, though he kept his mouth shut, if for no other reason than to humor Srina.

It did not take long for the 'food' to arrive and it was just as Tacitus had expected. Veronika and Scherezade then proceeded to explain and then demonstrate just how these bantha wings were supposed to be eaten and even though Tacitus knew what was coming, he still felt his teeth clench. It was one thing to rope him into eating these things. But making a fool of himself in the middle of the cantina by eating with his hands like a savage? Now that simply would not do.

Regardless of what the two girls thought, one did not eat with one's hands. Not out in public, anyway. Especially if that someone was skilled in handling the Force. So while Scherezade made a mess of things, he proceeded to demonstrate exactly what was the best way of eating wings.

One of the knives tucked away in his coat seemingly produced itself out of its own volition while one of the Bantha wings levitated up from the plate. The knife then proceeded to dance around the wing, making quick, efficient cuts and thrusts, while the meat seemed to pull itself off the bones. The final product was then deposited back on the plate in the form of neatly portioned cubes of meat, while the bones levitated themselves onto the empty bowl that had been placed on the table for this exact purpose.

The same process repeated itself for several more wings, the Sith Lord also making sure that Srina would not be neglected, until both of them had a neat portion of processed meat that could be eaten with the proper utensils and the bone contained a neat little pile of bones, arranged in the most efficient way possible. And all this time, Tacitus had not uttered a word, his only gesture being the amused smile on his face.

Skewering a piece of meat with his fork, he lifted it to his mouth, but not before speaking to Srina. "Shall we?"

 

[Helly Reyne]

​

O P E R A T I O N​

A S S I M I L A T E​

​

Location: Ankhela Executive Spaceport​

Objective: Get all personal for a minute​

Tags: [member="Adron Malvern"] | [member="Alessandra Creed"] | [member="Efried Halbrecht"]​

​

Helly nodded and took what the prime minister said with the kind of attention it deserved. These were people who merely wanted to survive, to see a future that wasn't endless war and suffering. That was something she could strongly identify with, and something she could easily turn into an understanding between the Confederacy and his own people.

"I was there on the day the Sith came to Coruscant," she began. "I saw firsthand the atrocities they inflicted on innocent people, the heartlessness and sadistic nature that breeds like wildfire in Empires such as those. Still to this day, they wreak havoc on worlds that have done nothing to provoke their wrath simply because their greed knows no end. If there was a way to prevent those worlds from falling to darkness, I would personally be doing the same for them, but instead, we do whatever we can for the ones we're able to reach out to. I can promise you that your world and your people will be spared the same fate as worlds like Coruscant and that your foresight will be recognized just like any other acquired information."

Of course, not all of what Helly said was the genuine truth. She knew that the Confederacy looked out for its own and that if the Iktotchi hadn't agreed to lend them their aid, they likely wouldn't waste their time on them. That was why Helly knew she would need to take part in more of these discussions; she did care, likely to a fault, and she knew that the Confederacy was able to back up her promises with their military strength. She knew from her career as a musician that anyone, whether they be a fan or a reporter or even a politician, appreciated the value of a heart-to-heart. From what she could glean from the Prime Minister, he seemed as if he might have been especially appreciative.

 

[Srina Talon]

​

Location: Seedy Cantina​

Objective: Meeting A Friend​

Wearing: Inappropriate Exarch Clothing​

Tags: [member="Darth Tacitus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Veronika Fleischer"]​

If Srina noted that anything was awkward about the quartet in a terrible little cantina none would have been the wiser. The pale beauty seemed to be at home anywhere she went, even if, she stood out like a white winter rose among a sea of bloody red flora. She would never pick up on the subtle nuances that made her different than the rest of the patrons. Veronika informed her that she would not regret trying the treats that had been ordered and the Exarch inclined her head politely. “I will try anything once, Ms. Fleischer.”

Words to live by. The little Echani might have been reserved, however, fear of the unknown was not in her vocabulary. Especially when it came to something simple like potentially adding a new entrée to her short list of likes. She had learned, thoroughly, to enjoy sparklemint sticks from [member="Darth Metus"]. He had a habit of stashing all sorts of sweets around the Well on Ryloth. Srina, curious as a kitten, had discovered most of his stash locations by trial and error.

When their orders arrived Srina was immediately intrigued by the star fries. Her fingers moved, lifting one, before turning it neatly around in the air. “How curious…”, she trailed off whimsically, entirely confused, about how the chefs had turned spuds into little star shapes. The Exarch wasn’t kidding when she said she ought to stay far, far from the kitchen. Everything she tried to make typically turned out in disaster. Or, according to some, weapons of mass destruction. The intrigued creature let it twirl around in the air for a moment before bringing it to her lips to bite the ends off.

Her nose crinkled, just a little. The star fries were good.

When Veronika mentioned a cheat day, her head tilted curiously, but Madalena asked the question for her. Never would she put together that the Knight assumed that they had put an end to Scherezade for stabbing the Vicelord. Certainly, Srina had reacted very sternly, but the deWinter girl was seated not three feet from her. Perfectly fine.

Aside from some disconcerting memory loss.

Watching both women eat the bantha wings with their fingers left her feeling as if she were at a loss. She raised her hands but couldn’t bring herself to do it whilst she absently finished her floating star fry. Madalena devoured the wing as if it was some sort of sport. Her head tilted and mercurial eyes flickered. “Impressive, Knight Antares.”

“Eating competitions?”

Her interest was piqued. Srina was a curious sort. She could recite the names of most of the Viceroyalty and three-quarters of the Knights Obsidian by heart. She could name what side they favored when walking, describe the exact shade of their eyes, and could even read off accurate relations between most of their member worlds. But, eating competitions? Wings? Srina was befuddled. Just as baffled as she was by Veronika when she kept waving at her holo-device. Whom was she speaking to?

As oblivious as she could be she was not unaware that Tacitus was a little aloof to the situation. The Emperor of Nelvaan was not known for displays of affection, or, for showing an undue sense of camaraderie. Srina had never known that part of him and simply didn’t see it. She was unafraid of any repercussions for crossing some sort of social line. How could she be? Darth Tacitus was just as dear to her as one of her blood relatives. He would no more harm her than he would harm himself. Even less so.

Srina became inquisitive when a knife darted out into the open and politely hid her mouth with a napkin to keep anyone from seeing the involuntary smile that was forming. It was wider than before, but still very, very muted. Of course, the Emperor wouldn’t eat wings with his fingers. Glacier eyes fell to the table at the sight of his expression. Amusement.

So, the almighty Kainan Malvern was enjoying himself. Victory. Definitely, a point in her column.

When he nudged a plate before her the Exarch her head inclined, gracefully, whilst appreciative words followed. He always sought to take care of her. Even when she didn’t need it. “You are too kind to me Kainan.”, she breathed softly, before picking up a fork. She poked a piece of meat and dipped it in the sauce that had been provided. Silver eyes fixated on it before she raised her fork a little to salute his. “We shall.”

When she first bit the concoction her eyes reflexively squinched shut. And then, slowly, her form relaxed. It was spicy but the sauce cooled it enough that she found it palatable. Nice, even. She ate a little more, picking like a small bird, but savoring every change in texture and new flavor. Her expression had remained bland, as always, but she didn’t seem displeased. Eventually, she set her fork down to take a sip of her clear fizzy water.

“This… Is very satisfactory. Le fael. [*Thank you]", her head tilted softly, before star-lit orbs fell on Tacitus, mentally requesting that he slice and dice her a few more wings for consumption. “Please?”

She didn’t realize that the girls might wonder what she was asking for, though, if he gave in they’d eventually figure it out.

 

[Alessandra Creed]

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O P E R A T I O N​

A S S I M I L A T E​

_______________​

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Location: Ankhela Executive Space Port [Meeting Room] | Objectives: Negotiate with the Iktotch Representatives | Companion: Luscia | Wearing: Black​

Tags: [member="Helly Reyne"] | [member="Efried Halbrecht"] | [member="Adron Malvern"] {Feel free to Join in!}​

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Alessandra had not been present on the day the Core had been decimated.

It wasn’t a lack of ability or a lack of courage. She had been the Minister assigned with staying behind. The Confederacy tried to leave at least one member of the governing body behind when they were required to participate in a dangerous scenario. A designated survivor. It was not one of her fondest memories. When [member="Helly Reyne"] brought the topic up the typically composed Minister of Commerce felt that her focus had suddenly been set adrift.

Discretely, she reached beneath the table, and took the hand of the Exarch. He had been on Coruscant. She had seen him afterward on Monastery. It was a sight no one would ever forget.

With that in mind, Adron would understand her sudden desire for contact.

When the Viceroy of Tatooine made a heartfelt promise that the world of Iktotch would be safe from the perils that had plagued the Core her eyes slid closed. It was a wish. A dream. A foolish promise that none of them could actually make with absolute certainty. Yes. They had the means. They had the military might. They had the will. But the future was unpredictable.

Coruscant had thought itself to be virtually untouchable. The pearl of the Galaxy. The center of everything. They had been thwarted from within. The Galactic Alliance had been pulled apart, brick by brick, layer by layer, until the remnants of a once powerful nation were scattered. Burnt, broken, and bleeding across the stars.

“Thank you, Viceroy Reyne. Your words speak to the wishes of all humanitarians.”

The polished creature spoke politely, truthfully, though not without a sense of finality. There was no tremor to her tone, no sign that she was uncomfortable, and no reason for anyone to suspect that she was bothered by the direction the conversation had taken. Her gaze shifted over the emissary from the Eternal Empire. He had yet to comment on the response from the Prime Minister. Adron had also been strangely quiet.

“The Offices of the Minister have no further issues. If the Exarch is satisfied by the proceedings we only need your digital signature to begin. We will have reinforcements present within a fortnight. Since you have mentioned training, I believe, we can arrange lessons from our Minister of War should that interest you.”, she trailed off, letting her words settle, before moving her hand across her datapad. Holo-Docs would fly through the air and settle within the Prime Ministers datapad. Once he signed and sent secure copes back—His people would be that much safer.

They all would be.

 

[Naedira Darcrath]

​

Location: Restaurant | Tag: [member="Ithiel Vi'Dreya"] | Dressed in Plain Clothes​

Her eyes were a brilliant shade of burnished topaz whilst she decidedly ground the face of the imposter into the table top. Naedira, if anything, seemed to grow even more fierce at the statement of him ‘just doing his job’ passing through the air. For all of her perceived irritation and the directness of her response, one might think she was close to losing control. This was control. The fact that he wasn’t missing body parts—was control. “Execution is my job. Shall I demonstrate?”

She twisted his arm further, driving his thumb up his spine, just to hammer her point home. The Bartender seemed to be concerned with the state of his tables and her gaze momentarily flashed toward him. He was being impersonated and threatened and he was worried about the furniture? “He was wearing your face. Wake up, Knight. Whatever this is, Ithiel, is your problem. Not the décor.”

The lowlife that she held in a less than delicate arm lock seemed to relent when it seemed like she might actually put him through the table. He offered her a deal and her eyes rolled heavenward. Was she really someone that looked like she was interested in compromise or negotiation? She took the chance to glance over at the Bartender again. Why didn’t he seem to recognize the severity of what was happening? Was he enjoying the booze a little too much? “You only have so much time left in this world and you seem to want to waste it by testing my patience. If someone plans to come through that door I’ll deal with it. Until then—Answer me.”

“Name. Yours and the people you’re working for. What information are you passing on?”

She wouldn’t hesitate to use the little information trader as a meat-shield. Gathering information with subtlety, investigating problems without being noticed, was a job for the Pathfinders. Naedira was trained to extracting intel by any means necessary. She was also tasked with making heads roll. She one so seemingly slender, almost delicate, there was an incredible amount of strength behind her every movement. “I am Naedira Darcrath. Executor Knight.”

There was something very wrong with this scenario. She didn’t know a single Vi’Dreya that would take things so well when someone was clearly messing with their lives. Bartender Ithiel…Or the real Ithiel as it were didn’t seem to have any idea what was happening. Or any clue of what sort of danger this actually was. Her eyes squinted whilst she looked him over.

Was he drugged?

“We need the details from this bottom feeder sooner than later.”

She glanced around the bar and nodded her head toward what seemed to be a back room. It would probably be better to take this outside. Naedira wasn’t afraid of much, but, she preferred to keep collateral damage to a minimum. She didn’t know who Faux-Ithiel was working with but the patrons in the bar didn’t deserve to be shot full of blaster holes. “Is there a way out through there?”

 

[Veronika Fleischer]

HERO'S WELCOME​

Location: A cantina which she could not remember
Objective: Makings of a Memorable Night!!!
Wearing: A feminine red suit & Chrisyakova limited edition heels
Weaponry: Trusty lightsaber tucked inside her suit pocket

"Please, call me Veronika. That will make things less formal," the blonde kindly reminded the Exarch when the platinum haired woman addressed her politely as Miss Fleischer. If she were to address [member="Srina Talon"] as Srina, it made perfect sense to be called by her first name in return. The Exarch seemed more receptive to the food platter after her initial encouragement, picking up a star shaped fry to study its appearance before tasting it. The expression of bliss was written all over Srina's face when the crispiness and right amount of seasoning tangled with the taste buds. The blonde beamed, tucking in her piece of chicken using her fingers when Madalena swooped in from behind to overtake her.

The Knight had cleanly finished the piece of wing in a few seconds, while proudly proclaiming the wonderful speed of her own mother's appetite. The reactions from the table differed immediately. Srina appeared to be amazed by the sight, while [member="Darth Tacitus"] ever brooding face seemed to be even darker. Perhaps he was turned off by the mess created? Meanwhile, Veronika struggled to keep a straight face, choosing to hide her demure with another sip of her liquor. It was a combination of astonishment, shock and awkwardness. There was no doubt that [member="Scherezade deWinter"]... no, Madalena Antares was a fast eater, but the mess and lack of chewing was... was...

"Embarrassing," Jart chuckled in her mind to complete her sentence, much to the annoyance of the witch who whispered back to him with her mind. "Shhh... quiet! I was just trying to be courteous."

While the blonde was busy telling her patron spirit to shut up, the Dark Lord had levitated a knife from his pocket. Veronika's attention went back to the table, eyeing him for a moment while he casually used the Force to strip the chicken meat cleanly from the bones. The socialite did a facepalm discreetly, rubbing her temple while she finished her own wing and tossed the bones onto her plate. Srina seemed to be totally endeared by the act though, her body language clearly suggesting that it was a perfect way to eat the meal.

Veronika mentally resigned herself to the fact that she was surrounded by companions with certain... peculiarities and gave a silent sigh. A friendly Knight who had shown her ability to eat quickly while creating a mess. A Sith who insisted on creating a scene by demonstrating his power in front of other customers, accompanied by a beautiful high ranking but socially "much room for improvement" Echani.

"Glad to see that everyone is enjoying their meal," Veronika somehow managed to squeeze out a smile. "A toast then. Cheers." She brought up her alcoholic glass and was reminded that she was toasting against mugs of fizzy soda, cream and water.

It was certainly going to be a memorable night for the socialite.

 

[Ithiel Vi'Dreya]

Location: Hole in the wall restaurant
Objectives: Dart Dodging with [member="Naedira Darcrath"].
Post: #6
Gear: Grey Jacket with Hood, Black T-Shirt, Black Jeans, Filtering-Googles on as always. Some armorweave perhaps somewhere but not on show.
Weapons Under the Bar: Jacknife sonic concussion pistol(s) x2, his saber, and a scattergun laying holstered. Duel Vibroknives and a few throwing knives concealed.

“Lady I’m telling you all I… YAAAAOW. Hey.” Faux Ithiel coughed against the table. Kicking the floor again a few times.

Ithiel remained arms crossed. Blinking with a hazy look, not that she’d know behind those goggles. He knew it was his problem. He dealt with his problems. Why she was doing it for him? That's what he didn't know at first. He looked to those behind the bar, shaking his head, they wouldn’t need the guns. They seemed to relax and get back to shining the glasses.

The imposter went quiet. “Vurn. Yeah. Vurn is his name,” He was holding back again, stammering. Ithiel walked right up to the table and smashed his fist beside the man’s head, shaking the wood. “Aruuvurn.” He was going to try and give her half of it again, “names, dates, you know, nothing big. Small stuff," Ithiel stood over him, with a look like he could smash that fist back at any time and not hit the wood so well. "Maybe a few freighter codes, shipping stuff, something about a dimension, a lux club... Travel plans, and you know the thing you got coming up. Listen can I get up? I ain’t gonna run.” Faux Ithiel seemed sincere, too scared to move far.

Ithiel looked up to Naedira, “Heard of you Knights.” Bar talk. “If this one,” he grabbed the man’s collar, “has been wearing my face. That’s who you want.” Seemed sensible, he’d been posing as Ithiel to be a Knight and got them riled up. No friend to him. When Naedira squinted, she’d see the uncertainty. Certain in what he was doing, but uncertain of who he was now the drugs were running out, maybe loose ends are what this Faux Ithiel was here to tidy up before he was interrupted.

“The backway.” Ithiel agreed, “we’ll keep this tidy.” He looked up at the biggest of Varad’s crusaders here, “Hey Jobo, get the backdoor cleared.” Ithiel grabbed the man by the collar, and if the Knight let him go he’d be hauled along with him off behind the bar. A familiar routine, like he’d thrown out a few people who couldn’t pay the bar tab. How long had he been here? Years

"Names Jelak, come on mannnnn you don't need to pull like that, we're all friends here...."

Ffffffttttppppt, thud.

Ithiel froze. Assuming Naedira followed, they'd got toward the backdoor, behind the bar, and the prisoner's body had gone limp with his feet dragging. Ithiel looked him over, spotting the dart in the neck quickly enough. Dropping him, and whether Naedira was ready or not, he physically got his hands on her shoulders and tried to pull her down with him below the bar. The Crusader stayed low, pulling the dart and sniffing the edge of it.

“No helping him.” The worrt venom mix was distinct in the smell, with something else he didn't know in its mix. How did he know that much? Their back door was a few feet away, leading into a small rear room then an alleyway, their escape or a safe place to find answers. The Vi’dreya wasn’t sure if he trusted her. One thing was for sure, he trusted whoever shot that dart less. They'd both have to get a few feet past the bar to the door, if they made the run. Risk enough if any more darts were about. "If you've got any ideas, now is the time." Looking at the other three around them, and telling her straight. "Nobodies getting left. We all go or nobody does." The way he talked to her, he'd seen how dangerous she was, he knew what her title meant. There was a look on his face that said it didn't matter. He was remembering clan, family, and duty, and he'd die before he left any of them.

[member="Naedira Darcrath"]​​

 

[Adron Malvern]

O P E R A T I O N​

A S S I M I L A T E​

Location: Ankhela Executive Spaceport {Meeting Room}​

Objectives: Meet with the Iktotch Representatives​

Companion: Luscia​

Wearing: Black and Blue Suit​

Tags: [member="Alessandra Creed"] [member="Helly Reyne"]​

​

Azure eyes gazed at the Iktotch Prime Minister as those who had elected to join the Confederate delegation spoke. His eyes trailed over to the Viceroy of Tatooine. He said nothing to her words and quite honestly gave them little thought one way or another. At the very least, she had proven to be someone who spoke some manner of sense. That would be enough for now. Alessandra spoke once again and the Exarch nodded softly. Had there been anything he wished to add? No. This meeting had been like all others, brief and to the point and would certainly suffice. ​

​

As Alessandra offered the Minister the datapad Adron spoke plainly as he watched the man sign. "Welcome, Prime Minister, To the Confederacy of Independent Systems." The Exarch stood, extending his hands in a welcoming gesture before glancing around the room and finally allowing his lips to break into a slight smile. "I will have the Minister of War contact your office so that all preparations can be made." The Exarch would incline his head to the man, before giving a subtle gesture towards the main door to the conference room. The door would open and two members of the Knight's Obsidian would enter. Each of them were clad in the hexagonal armor that was unique to their order. The lead Knight carried a small box which held the crest of the Confederacy on it's lid. ​

​

Adron did not care to remain any longer, nor did he hide such. "If that is all, there is much work to be done. Prime Minister, please enjoy." He nodded, before glancing over to [member="Alessandra Creed"] in a silent gesture for her to join him. The Exarch would make his way out of the room yet in the box that he had left was a gift to the Prime Minister. They were robes, made in the fashion of the Iktotchi people, yet with the Confederate emblem proudly displayed over the chest. A simple token, yet it was pointedly made from the finest silks in the galaxy and was laced with an armorweave that made it impressively durable while still as light as a feather. ​

​

With the meeting over and the gift given, the Exarch had no more reason to be on this planet. A war was coming and he would need to prepare. ​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

H E R O ‘ S​

W E L C O M E​

Wearing: Obsidian type Strike Armor | Honey Boo Prototype Combat Boots | The Forgemaster's Ring | Ring of Stasis
Wielding: 10 Czerka knives | 2 Nastirci Combat Knives | Fire and Smoke (lightsabers) | Hidden Wrist Blades
Location: Walking around, guard duty
Tags: [member="Darth Tacitus"] [member="Veronika Fleischer"] [member="Srina Talon"]

One did totally eat with their hands in public, if the situation called for it. While she wasn't about to eat a steak or a salad with her bare hands, eating wings with your hands was more than perfectly acceptable, especially when you did it the way she did. Of course, since Tacitus had said nothing, Madalena had nothing to respond to, but the overall atmosphere around the table had not gone unnoticed. He was really being a butthead, even if a silent butthead at that. And then he let a knife out, controlling it with the Force to get the meat off the bones.

She was really doing her best not to roll her eyes at the man's attempts to be a show off.

As Madalena took another wing into her mouth, cleaning it perfectly in under a few seconds, Srina asked about eating competitions. The Pathfinder smiled in response, though she had a hard time imagining the Exarch did not know what those were. Still, she would oblige.

"They're incredibly funny most of the time," she said with a smile after she had swallowed her food and dabbed the corner of her knife with a napkin, "basically, a bunch of people sit at an elongated table, and they have to eat as many units of a certain food within a given time frame. Awards are given to those who eat the most, or who break historical records. There are also rules such as, the competitors aren't allowed to vomit for an hour or two after the competition ends, or they forfeit their win to the next person in line and lose any claims on record breaking. My mother was amazing at it; I'd never seen her lose such a competition. And after it was done, our family would still go to another restaurant to have lunch or dinner together."

The calm expression on Madalena's face was not one controlled by herself. She remembered her mother; the pale face, the eyes that were glowing like hers. She had been one of the leading zoo keepers on Coruscant, a position she'd gotten by being amazingly good with animals even though she had no formal training. Her mother always had a kind smile to offer, and always had a large appetite that was rarely satisfied. She had loved her mother. She had loved her entire family. And now there were only two left, and Brayden was… Well, she was not going to focus on that at this table.

And of course, now the Exarch was eating the wings with a fork as well. Did she and the man next to her even realize what they were doing? What the message was that they were sending out with their behavior like that? The Sithling narrowed her eyes for a moment before taking another wing with her hands. There was no point in assuming she was being messy; only two fingers ever got dirty the way she was eating them, and those were immediately cleaned off after every wing, even if she went or another one right after that.

Glancing at the blonde that was seated next to her, Madalena suddenly realized that perhaps… No, not perhaps. She was out of place; she did not belong at a table with these three people, and their behavior made it very clear, even though it was not she who'd suggested they'd all sit together in the first place, and even though that they'd not been openly rude in any way. In fact, it was very subtle. Maybe that was why she'd needed more than a moment to realize what was happening in the first place.

The Sith cursed herself inwardly. She'd have never agreed to sitting here if she'd caught up on it earlier. There were more pleasant forms for self-torture out there.

As Veronika offered the toast, Madalena raised her own glass of cream, still half full, and by the Force, thank you!!! Her commlink beeped. Glancing at it, she realized she was being called back to active duty. The boredom of doing another uneventful round sounded extremely lucrative to her right now.

Taking a last gulp from her glass, Madalena offered warm smiles to everyone who was seated at the table. They could be buttholes all they wanted; she was not going to be playing their ridiculous games of social superiority.

"Thank you for the meal," she said graciously, "but it appears duty calls. Enjoy the rest of the evening."

Wiping her hands a final time on a wet napkin, the Pathfinder got up, and made her way out of the establishment.

 

[Alessandra Creed]

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O P E R A T I O N​

A S S I M I L A T E​

_______________​

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Location: Ankhela Executive Space Port [Meeting Room] | Objectives: Negotiate with the Iktotch Representatives | Companion: Luscia | Wearing: Black​

Tags: [member="Helly Reyne"] | [member="Efried Halbrecht"] | [member="Adron Malvern"]​

The Minister of Commerce felt some of the tension leave her shoulders when Adron agreed to the terms that had been set forth. When it came to brokering business deals Alessandra reigned supreme. This was more than that. As the Viceroy of Tatooine had so eloquently pointed out, with mention of the Core, it pertained to very lifeblood of the nation they sought daily to keep afloat. She rose from her seat to take back the datapad and followed the lead of her fiancée. “We will ensure that you have what you need to be successful. If you cannot find a suitable Viceroy you need only to reach out to the Exarchs.”

It was a small details that member worlds often forgot. A Viceroy was always required. It could be someone of their choosing, a politician, a diplomat, a Prince, or a Queen. All that mattered was that the person that spoke for the planet on the stage of the Southern Systems held the best interests of that world at heart. It was preferable that member worlds choose the own leaders, considering, how hands off the Confederacy preferred to be—But they also would not leave them floating adrift.

The raven-haired Creed woman glanced at their companions. She still couldn’t read their guest from the Eternal Empire very well, but, [member="Efried Halbrecht"] was a touch of a mystery. Regardless, the Exarch had spoken. Alessandra imaged that [member="Helly Reyne"] would have been pleased by the swift resolution but the Minister was still uncertain.

The Iktotchi seemed to sense something coming. Something that had their leaders frightened enough that they finally broke their impartial stance to join the Droid Nation.

She caught the glance that Adron have her and nodded her head softly.

“Viceroy Reyne, Mr. Halbrecht. Do enjoy your stay…”, she spoke briefly, dismissing herself, whilst she also shared parting words with the Prime Minister. He was a stern creature but the daughter of an imperial found value in a strong backbone. “Thank you for your time.”

Something seemed to have changed in Adron.

Early that morning he had been the doting father-to-be. Now? Suddenly, he was ready for a fight. She could feel the difference and didn’t shy away from taking his hand when they walked out of the meeting hall together.

“Don’t frown so, Exarch. It is unbecoming.”

The light teasing was something he would be used to. Regardless, she sighed, and let their fingers lace together. “This war will be won. We will burn the enemy, trample the ashes, and throw the rest to the wind…”

‘We will win’​