Autumnfeast | CIS

[Beric Layne]

​

F A L L​

It was going to be a cold winter, one of the coldest ones in generation if the older servants and scholars of Frosthall could be believed. Already, winds roared over the crags and peaks of the Frostspire as relentless snow blanketed everything in a heavy coat of white. Even the massive fires that mounted the crenelations and towers of Frosthall spit and crackled feebly, watchmen doing all they could to keep the fire pits alive as they battled the sleet and snow. Even in the famously warm hallways and chambers of Frosthall could one feel a chill, and most walked around covered in furs and skins to keep out the cold, or stayed close to a fire as they fruitlessly tried to warm their bodies.

Some would say that it was because of his Layne blood, others because of his life living in the cold, but no matter what explanation was given, the cold did not bother Lord Beric of House Layne as it did the men around him. Snow and hail did not frighten Beric, nor cause him to cower by a hearth for warmth. The young warrior embraced the cold, enjoyed the melting snow on his eyelashes and hair, the harsh wind snapping briskly against his cheek. He had not earned the name Frostburn for nothing; he had climbed the Frostspire many times in his youth, standing on the top as the whole mountainous landscape of Vandor seemed to surround him, going on for miles and miles as far as the eyes could see. During the spring and summers of Vandor, the alpine valleys of the snowy planet seemed to come alive with sky-blues and wintergreens; patches of sommergrass broke through the snow in jade-color sprigs, while the crystalline ice-lilies turned the snow meadows into kaleidoscopes of purples, pinks, and blues as the sun reflected and refracted.

Yet despite all the beauty that Vandor had to offer, there was none of that same enchantment when it came to the Winter. There were legends of times on Vandor when winter had lasted hundreds of years, when no crops would grow and the people had to resort to off-world alliances with foreign empires just for fuel and food. Legend had it that those times would return once again to Vandor, but for now it was the normal rotation of seasons, a perfect balance that Beric had learned to appreciate at a young age. The Confederacy was the same way too, he had learned throughout his studies of history and recent events. The mighty nation would rotate through seasons of defeat and triumph, conquest and rebellion, light locked in an eternal relationship with dark as it’s paramour. And like Vandor, right now the Confederacy was in the midst of its own Winter, one that was dark and full of terrors.

For as long as the Laynes had ruled over Vandor, the planet had largely stayed neutral in outside politics. The governing style of Vandor had been suitable with the Confederacy, who did not require much from the ice planet as Vandor had little to offer in the first place. The powerfully-force-sensitive House Layne had never joined the famous and mysterious Knights Obsidian as well, to emphasize their neutrality and the idea that House Layne was only loyal to House Layne. But in the dark of winter, one needs as many friends as one can get, and Beric reckoned that House Layne’s days of isolation were closing fast, whether he willed it or not.

That forceful pull into the spotlight had come with the travesty on Apatros. A messenger had arrived to the chilly court of Frosthall to inform what had transpired over at the fortress of the Knights Obsidian; the renegade Fleet Marshal, the wanton destruction and death at the hands of their own people. That had been a time of mourning, and throughout Frosthall an all-night vigil had been held in remembrance and solitude for the victims of the terror attack. But winter was coming, and to survive one must not dwell on the past left behind, but the future ahead.

To that end, the Knights Obsidian of the Confederacy had been invited to the warmed chambers of Frosthall to partake in the final day of Harvest feasting, before the world would begin to prepare for the oncoming winter. Although the winds outside were cold, inside the walls of Frosthall it was quite warm, and the feasting hall had been laden with every type of meat, vegetable, and grain. Trestles strained with food fit to feed a kingdom, and ale flowed freely as the hearth brightened up the atmosphere. For the night, people would be able to forget about the winds of life outside as they ate, drank, and sang to glories of old and new.

Winter was coming, but it was not here yet.

Spoiler

[SIZE=11pt][member="Hashim"]
[member="Alkor Centaris"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Kurenai Yumi"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Zaiden Dean"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Marek Starchaser"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Nine Lives"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Trajan"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Vereshin"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Ithiel Vi’Dreya"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Kwelin Orlov"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Cerria Rene"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Shalita Vi’dreya"]
[member="Tallara"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Lonthor Moriwant"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Zeilia Talon"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Asheila Shev"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Xin Moore"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Ari Riggs"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Djonas Vile"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Josiah"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Taramaz Laurs"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Aayaith Siosa"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Cerik Soloman"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Zoe Rosella"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Kreus"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Talon Rahl"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Jari Valnora"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Darth Ivum"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Ek Vilibro Griz"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Aiesha Solari"]
[member="Eli-Mae Forrest"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="STaCLO"]
[member="Krystal Estain"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]@Anastasia Vi’dreya
[member="Gerwald Lechner"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Varick Lechner"]
[member="Naedira Darcrath"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Uthixo Nazim"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Zorok Rane"]
[member="Voph"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Kalporra Flynn"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Aries Creed"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Mara Denko"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Vereshin"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Aisha"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Vytal Noctura"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Bedrovelse Hevn"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Celeste Cavataio"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Nix Scamandros"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Fawn Alzi"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Kasca Fen"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Asher Mossa"]
[member="Veronika Fleischer"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Pom Stych Tivé"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Ashara Evanaris"]
[member="A’Runda"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Ahron Rol"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Tireya Syvare"]
[member="Lunara Azure"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Tempest Yore"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Jorah zos Darnus"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Rience"][/SIZE]

 

[Krystal]

___________________________________

Wearing: Golden Armour
Wielding: Verpine Shatter Gun as well as several concealed weapons and a KC-94 Ace of Spades Blaster
Tags: Open
___________________________________

Krystal exhaled a breath of relief as she stepped into the warm halls of the palace. Though her suit was relatively warm and did have some measure of climate control, that did not prevent the needles of cold from jabbing at her every unprotected surface. She also couldn't see her breath any longer, which was a definite plus.

Her relationships with her fellow Knights Obsidian had been strained, to say the least, since the events on Tanaab. She would not dwell on the past any longer, having long since realized that the harder she tried to ignore it the more it insisted on gnawing at her conscience -- so she would simply let it be. She had done what she had done, and that was simply that. If the Knights would have her back, then she would gladly rejoin them.

Her long hair flowed gently about her head, reigned in by a thin metal circlet. She had paused for a moment by the door, reveling simply in the heat, and now she entered the festivities proper. Krystal recognized few of the people here, though she was certain that more than a few of them were simply old colleagues of hers that she had never really knew well enough to remember. Taking a deep breath, she decided that there really was only one proper way to start the evening.

Drinks.

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

'Put yourself out there more, and they will come around,' she had been told on numerous occasions. The Dathomiri born and raised femme fatale had not lost many of her old world customs. In fact she was difficult to sway from the ways of her culture, solely because those who surrounded her outside of the Mandragora did not seem to openly accept her as she is. She often accepted an invitation only to stand alone among the shadows, which most times lead to her leaving very, very early, bored to tears and most certainly with an added chip on her shoulder against the notion to further attempt to befriend outsiders. Outsiders being anyone in the CIS outside the Mandragora chapter of Nightsisters.

Why would tonight be any different? Different faces? It hardly ever matters, for even those she has met before in the field, don't even bother to say hello. But she has ever been the guest to offer customary homage for the invitation. Her gift presented to her host for his kindness and generosity, a small box of Potions of the nature of Healing and Wellbeing which this Potions' Mistress took painstaking care to brew herself. It would likely be by urban legend or sheer racism, her gifts are often set by the wayside and wholly rejected. It matters not to her wether they end up appreciated or discarded, for they do work as intended, and it is no loss to herself.

The Mistress Pom Stych Tivé graciously curtsied before her host [member="Beric Layne"] in presentation.

Her mentor [member="Darth Metus"], did instruct her to dress formally, whereas at first she would simply be herself while in attendance of such an event, a witch whose presence inspires notice. However, the woman did learn to appreciate the finest of feminine ornate attire, and therefore she did dress appropriately; as the hours progress, the corner of the room shall look splendid, while she stands or sits alone in it. She would be good for a while abandoned there, for she brought her Spice Sticks to entertain herself until the run out. Thereafter she can simply check her timepiece, sigh to herself, and disappear without a second thought to anyone else in attendance. Well, not entirely true though, for some remember the existence of an alabaster faced woman with raven black hair. Maybe they are not consciously aware of their reason for avoiding her. Attuned instincts, perhaps?





[member="Krystal Estain"]

 

[Beric Layne]

If one thing could be said, it was that Beric was impressed with how well the offworlders were handling the autumn winds of Vandor. Even though they were far from the harsh, bitter freeze of winter, they had been enough to cover the outdoors with nearly a meter of snow in a day. Needless to say, the environment of Vandor was not welcoming during these months, yet Beric was pleased to see that Frosthall was at least a warm escape from the hail and sleet outside.

He gave courteous inclination towards [member="Pom Stych Tivé"], always adherent to the etiquette that he had to present as Lord of Frosthall. On this occasion he was dressed in one of his finer tunics; a simple soft grey cloth, with a belt over the midriff and a large robe over it, on which a pelt of brown fur lay resting around his shoulders. Beric had just walked in from standing outside, and half-melted flakes snow still clutched to his furs and hair as he made his way around the feasting hall, pausing occasionally to greet guests, share a laugh, or try a choice portion of food or drink on invitation. Even in the warmth of the hall, Beric could see his breath misting in front of him. Not all cold could be kept out.

As he made his way through the tables, he noticed a young woman cradling a rather large tankard of alcohol. From the armor she wore to the confident look about herself, Beric could sense a sort of warrior kinship with the young lady, and made his way over towards [member="Krystal Estain"] to introduce himself. "M'lady, I am Lord Beric Layne. I want to personally welcome you to our food and drink," he said as he slightly bowed before fully straightening and giving her a welcoming smile, although it wasn't much. Despite his rather fierce tenacity at times, or more rather due to that disposition, Beric had never been much of a smiler. Despite that, Beric gave it a try as he brushed a loose strand of hair out of his face. "Is that a Vandorian ale, perhaps, or some other concoction?" he asked, pointing towards the tankard.

 

[Gianna Aegis]

Location: Frosthall [By a Fireplace]​

Wearing: XOXOXO​

In the Company Of: A Nice Old Woman + Maybe [member="John Locke"] + [Open]​

_____________________________​

She liked to travel.

Staying in one place too long, even somewhere as perfect as Naboo, was something she had never managed to do well. Gianna was a wanderer. She believed in spreading goodness and helping those in need wherever they may be. Not just on privileged, safe worlds, but on any planet. It was partly out of a sense of duty and partially due to the free spirit that yearned to be the best Jedi Knight she could be. She obeyed the rules, the tenants of old, and tried to give of herself rather than asking from others.

This was what led to her holding the gnarled hands of an old woman who had seen better days. At her age, most, would have assumed that she had one foot in the grave. Her gait was a little strange with arthritic joints and eyesight that was failing faster the market on Coruscant. The lines in her face betrayed the warm voice. Her mind was still sharp, with alert eyes, but they were tired. The space beneath them was deep, sagging, as if the skin no longer had a connection to the skull underneath. At a glance she was probably more than ninety years old.

Gianna found her wonderful. Already, she had regaled the magma-haired Jedi Knight with stories of Vandor and the occupants that dwelled within. “And our host? Can you tell me of him?”

“Certainly. He is very well-respected. You would probably find his company, or, one of the other younger members of House Layne far more enjoyable than mine. Kind child. Why do you waste your time with such an old woman?”

The Jedi Knight smiled, softly, and their corner of the hall seemed to brighten from the action. Perhaps it was a trick of the firelight, or, it really was simply due to her uplifting expression. “Do not say such things. I can tell how much you love and care for your people. We should all have that one person who knows how to bless us despite our shortcomings…”

“I get to catch a glimpse of that. I am grateful.”

At the end of her words jade eyes fell closed and little metallic baubles wrapped around her ears began to give off a faint glow. Gianna was wearing at least a couple of the artifacts that [member="John Locke"] had created for her. It made things easier. Less exhausting—When she could not stand to see someone suffering. There was nothing she could do about the age of the old madam but she could help mend the symptoms of growing old. “This is a trick I learned from. Where I come from. I promise, it won’t hurt.”

Light moved, barely visible, between their hands. It rolled in her skin with a heavenly glow before it faded just as quickly as it had come. Her eyes opened and her smile remained. “There. Now, try and move your fingers.”

The matronly woman looked at her with new eyes, curious, but unafraid. She released the hands of the young guest before her and saw that her digits were no locked crooked and hooked. She could straighten them without pain. Bright eyes, holding an echo of youth, shot back toward the face of the Jedi Knight. “T-Thank you. How did you…? Why?”, she sputtered, a little surprised, that someone would use such a precious skill on someone they didn’t know.

Gianna just smiled and reached out to take her hands again so they could keep chatting in comfort. They were beside a crackling fire, with warm cocoa, and finally in good comfort.

“So…Tell me more about Lord Layne and Frosthall.”

 

[John Locke]

Location: Frosthall​

Wearing: Not a suit​

Nearby: A nice old woman | [member="Gianna Aegis"] | [Open for storytime]​

​

​

There was something about the snow, about the way the white blanket the landscape outside the window. It was like a scene right out of a holonovel or a postcard, a kind of innocence and purity that touched a primal part of your being. It was the kind of scene that made you want to curl up in front of a fire, to pull a blanket around your shoulders as you watched the snow settle.

It was the kind of scene that made you want to treat yourself a little, indulge in those little treats that you would normally push off to another day that you might not normally indulge in. Or at least that’s how John felt as he slowly wormed his way through the crowd, the soft buzz of conversation all around him as his dark eyes focussed on the tray balanced in his hands, the scents wafting up were enough to leave his stomach growling. The weather outside may have been freezing but the cyborg had to admit that their host did know how to put on a good board, it hard been relatively easy to find the treats that John had gone out in search of. A truly harrowing quest now drawing to it’s jubilant conclusion.

White teeth sunk into his lower lip as the man glanced up, eyes scanning across the room as they alighted on a familiar shock of red-hair, a small smile tugging up the corner of his lips. The Jedi had this habit of reaching out to anyone around her, of giving them their fullest attention, making it seem like they were the only person in the world that mattered. He could see it in the way the old woman Gianna was talking to seemed to sit a bit straighter, seemed a little more confident. It was almost an aura which she gave off, one of the many facets of her charm.

Slowly, careful not to spill anything John edged his way around another group, that smile still resting on his features as he nodded at the two ladies, wrapped up in a little cocoon of their own. He’d arrived just in time to catch the tail-end of their conversation, to see the jewellery adorning Gianna glow for that brief moment as the old woman flexed her fingers. It wasn’t much, but he could see the delight in her eyes, the only physical sign of what Gianna had done, the ramifications for the woman though…it would change her life. The Jedi hadn’t thought of any of that though, it was just who she was.

A fond light danced in the back of John’s dark eyes as he carefully settled the tray on the table between them, grinning at Gianna before turning his head to face her companion, winking at her before reaching for the tray.

“Any good story has to be told around a fire with the right treats to set the scene don’t you think? Refills anyone? Just be careful, they told me they were hot.”

The right treats in this case consisted of two steaming mugs of hot cocoa for the ladies, presented to them with a small bow before John claimed his own mug, grasping a cookie from the tray as he slid down to the floor. An amused light danced in the back of the man’s eyes as he shifted back slightly, resting his back against Gianna’s legs. He could feel the warmth of the woman’s body as he settled into position leaning against her, the back of his head just resting gently in her lap.

“I’ve got to admit I’m pretty curious about Lord Layne too,”

John’s hand came up, gesturing at the hall around them, filled with smiling partygoers and the veritable feast that had been prepared. Being able to provide for your people like this, even in the harshness of winter for them to be happy and still have the local supplies to manage this, that wasn’t nothing. The man blinked, as if spotting the cookie in his hand for the first time before leaning his head back a bit, offering the treat to the red-haired Jedi.

“I didn’t drop it this time.”

 

[Pom Stych Tivé]

And there it had begun, the host had no words for her, and his cordiality was all he could muster. The witch turned as he walked towards the other guests. She decided she would recover what was left of her night before the hours got away from her. The food was fine, she was not one to be finicky.

It is the company however...

Pom can move both sides of the Force, but lightsiders everywhere held their noses in the air. Something occurred to her though, that she was for some personally unacceptable reason, perhaps attempting to seek commonality with those whom she obviously holds none with. They were silently revealing this fact to her in their less than courteous affront as they paired off amongst themselves. It was ever persistent, a thick presence in the air, the snub she can feel through the Force!

Time and time again, regardless of wether she had worked with someone, as she had Madalena Antares who holds a high ranking military position, or just met them, on duty, off duty, the lack of reception they showed for her hadn't wavered. [member="Rience"] is wrong in it all. There will never be a CIS where inclusion is non-discriminatory. What do they think about him now that he is possessed by Demons? The witch knew it could not be pretty; and that he was seeing it too by now, the same treatment.

She decided that no longer would she bother with such frivolities, a path which originally Darth Metus had encouraged her to explore. She didn't worry about what he had felt imperative, that anyone might distrust her on the battlefield enough to act out against her there, and because of that she should set herself among her fellow CIS to quell any such insecurities people have; for she knows full well they do not, nor shall they ever come to trust her. It has been 9 months living among them and the experiment is therefore over; her conclusions are drawn and recorded in her blood upon the eternal texts of history. That everyone she comes in contact with is a legitimate representative of the CIS, and that they continually exhibit their non-inclusive cliques by far, she finds mounting discontent with the whole bigoted scene. For this, her senses shall ever be heightened when among them, most certainly upon the battlefield, especially since the military so easily came after the Mandragora to slaughter the entire lot of us, lead by [member="Madalena Antares"], one she had known! Had they ever apologized directly? Certainly not as of yet! Will they? The Mandragora suspects, certainly never!

What is a few death warrants between faction members?! It's all in the line of duty, you know! How do you like your tea, dear? I like mine RED?!

Pomsty walked towards the main doors, and once she passed through, the witch Apparated herself into the Nether Realm, where she would trek through it towards her Home Planet, transcending time and space therein. "Never again!"

She got the notion and decided that she shall stop off somewhere to meet up with one of her mates. The Mistress sees no need to entrap her catch; she throws them back every time. Freedom has its merits! She doesn't play house.

All this right here…this now, this is the life!

|| Exit the Mistress Pom Stych Tivé ||​

 

[Gianna Aegis]

Location: Frosthall [By a Fireplace]​

Wearing: XOXOXO​

In the Company Of: A Nice Old Woman + Maybe [member="John Locke"] + [Open]​

_____________________________​

“A nose like his mother, but tall, strong. Like his father.”

Gianna could only smile at the pride that filled the voice of her new friend while she explained the even temperament of [member="Beric Layne"]. From what the flame-haired Jedi Knight could tell, beyond anything, the long-haired man was a good one. He didn’t smile often but possessed a certain quiet strength that could not be feigned by just anyone. He kept his people safe, warm, fed and protected. What more could the people of Frosthall ask for? The matronly woman, Talia, spilled his triumphs big and small.

Obviously, they had formed an instant camaraderie.

Gia liked to hear the stories of others. She never had any siblings and younglings were for those far more blessed than she. Both of her parents had passed. Knowing that there were still people that existed with strong familial bonds left her feeling warm. Settled. Everything around her felt just a little bit calmer. As if the world was tilting on just the right axis.

When John returned with refills, he wore a particular expression that she couldn’t quite discern. Pale jade eyes swept over him curiously, silently, wondering what had placed him in such a good mood. Out of courtesy to present company she didn’t ask about something only she would notice. “Yes, please!”, Gianna responded with a soft chuckle, finding the bow over the top, and yet entirely fitting. She released the hands of the wizened so that they could both take a new mug.

More than anything they used the hot chocolate to chase any remaining chill from their bones. The fire helped but the snowfall outside hadn’t let up since they’d arrived. It was a gale of epic proportions but the people of Frosthall didn’t seem to mind the slightest. It was normal for them, she supposed. The Jedi gave a soft smile when John took a seat before her and used her legs as a back-rest. “Silly man… Are you sure you don’t want a chair? You’re going to hurt your back.”

Her head tilted when she felt a shift of the metaphysical sense. For a split second she froze and brilliant green eyes grew distant. It wasn’t a change in the Force that drew her attention but a flow of emotion that stirred her innate empathy. Someone [[member="Pom Stych Tivé"]] was conflicted. There were feelings that she could not put into words. Almost, a remnant of isolation. Her gaze was hollow when it turned toward the back of the dark-haired woman as she departed. Gianna could not truly see her. Only, deep, dissatisfied feelings. The Jedi Knight couldn’t hope to understand it all. It was too much. Tumultuous.

A silent storm.

Breathing in softly she shook her head and brought her senses back to the present. She closed them down so she wouldn’t unintentionally glean more about other patrons. Gianna smiled sweetly down at John slowly to show that she was all right. All was well. Only…”I hope that woman makes it wherever she needs to go safely. She left so quickly and the weather has only been worsening…I worry that it will be difficult to take off.”

Ever concerned for others. The flame-haired Knight always thought the best of everyone. It would be very easy, simple to see that, for anyone that actually came over to speak to her. To know her was to feel light. To feel love—To know that it existed in unfathomable forms. “You have that one. I’ll fetch one later on…”

Gingerly, she reached out and ran soft fingers through Johns hair. His head in her lap felt familiar. She needed that when her abilities tended to rear their heads unbidden. The old woman that had graciously accepted the hot beverage from the handsome guest watched the pair knowingly. It was obvious that they were close. When she moved, he moved. Neither wore matching rings either. It was a mystery…But one that was not for her to solve. Merely, for an old woman to observe.

Instead of commenting Talia turned the conversation back toward something less personal. “I’m sure the lass will make it. She seemed quite capable. Speaking of Lord Layne however—I see that he’s just arrived. Snow covered as always.”, she gestured toward a man wearing a grey tunic. She paused, mid-motion, as if surprised by how easy it was to move. To bend. That was some trick Ms. Aegis knew. “And you young man…What is your name?”

“Are you a soldier? One of these Knights Obsidian?”

 

[John Locke]

Location: Frosthall
Wearing: Not a suit
Nearby: A nice old woman | [member="Gianna Aegis"] | [Open for storytime]

John tilted his head to the side for a moment, features composing into a thoughtful expression as if giving Gianna’s question the full weight of his attention. The man held the pose for two seconds, for three, letting the silence drag out for a moment before he let his dark eyes meet her emerald ones, a satisfied expression settling on his face as he shook his head.

“No, no I think I’m pretty comfortable right here, I think I’ll stay right here. Besides, you couldn’t hurt me, it actually feels pretty nice.”

There was no lie to the man’s words, not one that could be picked up from his expression or his aura in the force. He was utterly content with where he was, and had no desire to be anywhere else at all. The combination of the hot chocolate slipping it’s way down his throat, the warmth of Gianna’s legs behind him and the heat of the roaring fire had chased away the last vestiges of the cold weather that still permeated the hall.

In that moment John found he could understand why it was people chose to holiday in snow-filled valleys and mountains. The cold brought people together, perhaps it was an instinctive need to need heat, or perhaps some effect of the wood fire and the environment brought that out of people. Still he wasn’t going to complain about it in the slightest. A sense of happy wellbeing settled over the man as he offered their older companion a soft smile as his dark eyes flicked over the crowd, the men and women almost dancing around one another.

The gathering reminded him of those few occasions when he’d seen a community come together. This wasn’t the strict formality of a social gala or a business meeting, these were people who lived and worked together, a more relaxed environment. You could see it in the way they smiled at one another, the small asides and touches, this was a community that cared for one another. John could almost feel it like a warm sea she could sink into, that had reached out to even enfold the strangers in their midst.
It was only, something wasn’t quite right, John could feel a tension in Gianna’s limbs, a moment of shock, unease filtering though his body as the cyborg tilted his head back to stare at her face. Dark eyes searched across her face, searching for a sign on her face. He could feel tension sliding out of his body as he saw the red-haired Jedi smiling down at him, leaving just a vague sense of unease suffusing his body as he followed her gaze to the departing woman’s back.

“I’m sure she’ll be ok, they’re pretty experienced with the weather around here. No-one would just let her take-off if she was going to get into trouble.”

The man met Gianna’s smile with a comforting one of his own, an arm reaching up to rest on her leg, giving it a soft squeeze. The flame-haired woman always felt for others, her heart always going out to them, she couldn’t see someone in pain, in trouble, without worrying about them, trying to help them. It was one of the things that made the woman who she was, one of the things that made him love her.

Slowly John let his arm drop to his side as he felt Gianna’s fingers working through his hair, a comforting gesture that chased away the last on the lingering unease as he closed his eyes. For a moment the rest o the hall, their companion sitting right there, none of it existed, none of it mattered to him. There was just the woman behind him and the feeling or her fingers running through his hair, the warmth of her legs against his back. The tension seemed to flow out of his shoulders, the cyborg almost melting against the woman.

It was a moment he wished he could hold onto, that would last forever, a perfect moment. Alas, too soon the world seemed to intrude on the cocoon that bad built up around them, Talia’s voice dragging John’s attention back to the moment from the cloud of bliss he’d been floating on. Taking a breath the man shifted slightly, pressing himself back against Gianna’s legs a little more as he broke the cookie in two, reaching up to offer half to the Jedi before turning his attention to the woman.

“Ah…that was rude of me, I’m sorry. I’m John Locke, please just call me John. I’m not one of the knights, nothing like that. I just build things but well we heard about the party and the opportunity to come out here seemed too good to pass up. I have to say, it hasn’t disappointed so far. Your lord really knows how to throw a party for his people, it's nice, welcoming.”