Private Before the Light || Osenia

[Abel Denko]

EVERFALL

Lordship was boring.

One would think that a life laden with riches would be the apple of one's eye. For the destitute and the starving, this would certainly be the case - but, after some time, the gilded robes weigh heavy. In the case of Abel, a man molded by the streets of Nar Shaddaa, the responsibilities that came with his bloodline were anything but satisfying. He had made a solemn vow to see to the affairs of House Denko. Yet, doing so meant treading water in the ocean of noble expectations. It would not do to simply oversee the wine-centric holdings of the estates. No. Like any eligible bachelor of status, he was expected to attend the galas and soirees thrown by his peers. Lovely.

The day's events had taken him to Everfall, where a light luncheon was being held. The younger members of the esteemed host family had opened their doors. On paper, the gathering was meant for the nobility to discuss the current events of Naboo and beyond. In truth? This was a chance for many of the "lads" to meet the ladies whom were yet unwed. A chance to flex their muscles, their skill, and to spend hours exchanging bravado. The display was just entertaining enough that Abel didn't tongue kiss the business end of a blaster.

But it wasn't his style. It was boring as all get out.

Though his house was of decent standing and equivalent to those gathered, Abel did not drape himself in finery. He stuck out like a sore thumb - opting to wear an Obsidian cuirass and comfortable pants. His hair, which was usually down, had been groomed into a neat "half up, half down" style. This was at the insistence of the butlers as he headed out. A glass of wine was being nursed in his dominant hand whilst he watched the lads go about their display. The back gardens were the stage, and before a marble fountain did they prance back and forth, waving foils about in "duels."

The giggles of the nearby ladies were all the fuel they needed to keep up the display. Abel had to keep from rolling his eyes. He contemplated saying feth it and heading out early, when one of the brash remarks reached his ears.

"If I had been an Obsidian Knight, my sword would have bested all the daemons!"

Strike One. The reply?

"You cur! Those paltry swings would see you eaten. Now if I had been a Knight, there would not have been a single man lost under my watch."

Strike Two. Abel set the glass down and strode over. He nodded, quietly, to the lads and ladies he passed, before stepping before the dueling pair. His arms folded, eyes narrowing to a firm glare. He recognized one of the participants as being from the Ee'everwest family. The other he couldn't place. Yet both had earned a place on his chit list.

"If you had been Knights, you'd have been chewed up and shot out a daemon's ass." The sheer crassness of his words were enough to give the men pause, but this was tame for Abel.

"Why I never!"

"And who are you to speak to me in such a manner?"

Abel simply raised his dominant hand, as if to tell them both to shut the hell up. "How many men have you killed? How many actual, life or death, fights have you won?" The pair began to stammer a response, yet their hesitancy was all he needed to hear. "I'll take that as a fat goose egg." he began, advancing. His movement stopped when his brow was practically touching that of the young Ee'everwest.

"All this prancing around? Doesn't mean anything. Doesn't do anything. You both couldn't back it up if your lives depended on it. If war knocked on your door tomorrow, you'd go hide in a bunker somewhere - and leave protecting your family to others. Yet here we are, watching you preen your damn feathers, hoping to sucker some lady into saying 'I do.'"

The other young man, clearly, had enough and jabbed his fingers into Abel's chest. He was working on a Strike Three. "I won't stand for this!" he said, reaching for his foil. "Let's settle this like men."

"To the death it is."

The noble's expression dropped. Yet Abel didn't wait. He simply stepped back a few paces, towards the semi-circle of onlookers. His arms opened wide, as if to receive the man in an embrace. In truth, it was an open challenge. He didn't need a foil for this. The young Ee'everwest was smart enough to duck out, briskly walking past. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the young man grabbing the wrist of someone and bringing them closer - perhaps seeking to stop this before it went too far. Abel didn't budge. He simply jutted his chin at the noble and added:

"Like men."​

Osenia Ee'everwest

 

[Osenia Ee'everwest]

She felt… dulled. Already exasperated by the afternoons events and wishing she could be anywhere else in the Galaxy.

For the sake of keeping face for her sisters and not offending their guests, Osenia put on the display everyone wanted. From her perch she smiled sweetly, dressed down in her powder blue silks and feigning interest over the bumbling antics of the lads. She recited all the pretty words the way she’d been taught, and laughed at the appropriate times with every other vapid lady of court.

Until…

"You cur! Those paltry swings would see you eaten. Now if I had been a Knight, there would not have been a single man lost under my watch."

The marionette smile faded, her lips drawing into a somber line and her vivid blue eyes blinking slowly, exchanging a glance between the giggling girls at her side and the cads draped in fine cloth and gold, swapping banter and blows like ignorant schoolyard boys.

Perhaps a year ago she would have genuinely been charmed by the display, none the wiser that it was all smoke, mirrors, and hot air.

Now? The nature of her work meant that she had seen first hand the devastation of the cataclysm and the grim reality of it for herself.

Their words made her insides twist.

Osenia looked out with a frown as the jollity continued on, losing a quiet sigh as Lord Tarru Heran continued his forward assault on her cousin Dulain. All this bloody pomp and circumstance, how had she ever been glamoured by it? She was readying to leave, unable to stomach any more of their profound absurdity, until a third voice rang through the open yard and pulled her attention.

The man whom the deep baritone belonged to looked more soldier than nobleman, but anyone who knew anything, would recognize the golden-spun heir of formidable repute, from House Denko.

The energy sharply shifted and an uneasy hush fell over the gathered. Most would have had the good sense by now to bow out. Dulain himself having done exactly that, but sweaty Lord Tarru, red faced with fury, charged forward as if eager to meet his death.

Some of the men in the crowd chuckled, the women gasped. Dulain by this point, was at her side and commanding her attention with a forceful yank on her wrist.

“You must put an end to this, cousin! Tarru talks a big game, but everyone knows he’s an idiot.”

She didn’t flinch or pull away, her gaze stone cold with a sharp eye turned on him, the soft lilt of her voice now harsh, “Then maybe he should have learned to mind his tongue.”

While she didn’t intend to let this continue on, she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t a part of her that was resigned to letting Tarru suffer the consequences of his actions. But, at the end of the day, the man's worst offense was stupidity and an overabundance of hubris, that didn’t exactly warrant his death.

Internally, Osenia swore, sweeping with graceful strides into the sunlight of the open yard.

“That’s enough,” she said firmly, claiming space between the men. Tarru bristled with wounded pride. “Put down your swords and lay down your hackles. Both of you. This is my home, and I will not have it profaned.”

Tarru thumbed his nose and shrugged, looking over Osenia at Abel.

“Come find me later, Denko, when you're man enough to not let a woman step in on your behalf.” sheathing his blade, he motioned towards the worried women on the sidelines. “Come along, the hour of play is done.”

Osenia felt the heat rise in her milk white cheeks, her heart thumping inside her chest. The enormity of his arrogance was infuriating, but she refused to let him linger in her thoughts.

Tossing back her liquid black curls, the wisp of a woman lifted her chin to address the others, hoping to quell any embers before they spun into an outright inferno.

“My Lords and Ladies, please forgive this display. If I might suggest, I’d like to direct your attention inside. We have many more festivities to partake in this afternoon, with refreshments and entertainment from across the galaxy.”

One by one, the crowd and her cousin, slowly dispersed.

“Now hopefully,” she murmured, “That is that.”

Tag: Abel Denko ​

 

[Abel Denko]

LORDSHIP

There was an art to bluffing.

Having been cultivated on the streets of Nar Shaddaa, Abel Denko was no stranger to taking life. Though he had certainly "redeemed" himself, one could never fully remove the instincts which came from such a harsh upbringing. In comparison, the sod before the Knight's glare most likely had everything handed to him on a silver platter. There was no such thing as actual effort for those of his kind. They were given the best opportunities, the best of everything in fact - and because of that, they had no concept of the value of life. Abel knew that value. Abel had seen the light drain from a man's eyes, by his own hands.

And he knew, very well, how to exact that same fate upon someone else.

Of course, while such a lesson would have felt wonderful to teach to the loudmouth, he couldn't very well butcher the man. A small, small part of him wanted to, sure. But in the back of his mind, duty screamed in protest. He was a Knight Obsidian. And even more so, he was the face of House Denko. Sullying his hands in blood - nowadays - would cause more harm than good. Even if the man deserved it. In the moment, the red-faced noble crossed the divide between them, coming so close that Abel could smell the indulgent cologne he wore.

Abel immediately dressed the man down with his glare. He could see that his hands were free of calluses - he seldom wielded that blade for any span of time. His form was, admittedly, scrawny. A few choice jabs would render the man unable to continue. His arms lowered as the braggart parted his lips, most likely intended to spew some other drivel before getting his arse pounded into the dirt. But before he could so much as spew a single sentence, there was a click of heels. The intervention was enough that it gave both men pause - a Lady of the House stepped between them.

That's enough. she said. And she was right. This was her home, to continue on would be a massive lapse of decorum. Ah, Abel could hear his grandfather's chiding now. How could you go to someone's home and behave in such a manner? The Knight exhaled, smothering his righteous frustration with common sense. The noble, however, thumbed his nose and stared at Abel. In passing, he made a "you're lucky she stepped in" style remark, before heading past. It took all the restraint in the world for the Knight to hold his tongue, but he did. Not only was he a piece of filth who'd spit on the graves of the Knights, but he diminished women? Charming.

The Lady of the House then turned to the spectators. She herded them back into the estate, and one by one they filtered into the other festivities. That left Abel and the woman alone. He'd recognize her as Osenia, one of the esteemed Ee'everwest siblings. Reaching, he ran his offhand through his locks - a visible sign of frustration, before speaking. "My sincerest apologies." he said, earnestly. "That was ill of me to disrespect your home. I beg your pardon."

He meant it. The noble was an nerf herder, but it certainly wasn't his home. To challenge him as he did was out of line. Especially in noble circles. Lowering his hand, he stepped forward, ultimately coming to a halt at the balcony's railing. He turned, back leaning slightly upon it. "If you choose to dismiss me from the day's events, I completely understand."​

Osenia Ee'everwest