Bells and Blasters | CIS Dominion of Hex X-41

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Objective: Mostly, just be confused with lots on her mind
Wearing: This (Dathomirian symbols on her exposed skin not seen in the picture)
Post: One

It was kinda like what they had, wasn't it? There was an event, there were people present. There was the couple doing the claiming to Katrine hadn't seen them yet. Why weren't they here? And why were there invitations sent? She had questions but at the same time, she found herself not caring. She was far from the ceremony now, staring into glass window, catching glimses of people there and the many decorations. Katrine had felt her the moment she had arrived on the ship. Her signature was still stored in her memory even if she felt the connection through Jart drifting slowly away.

Seven days felt like months in which so much had happened so quickly and yet so painfully slow. Fear, confessions, emotions, her refusal to change and confrontations. The memories of those days in which she refused to change were slowly coming back to her, becoming clearer in her mind but they weren't complete yet. It didn't really matter all that much. Not with what happened immediately after. The fight, the tears, the pain inflicted with nothing more than words that made her long for the sword to have actually pierced her skin before she had to hear any of it... and then in the very end, just as Gerwald had promised, interrupted by A.R.K.I. who simply didn't care about the moments passed as she insisted on sharing with them the news.

No matter how confusing this whole event to Katrine was, one of the main reasons why she had wanted to come because she had to talk to [member="Darth Metus"] about Stewjon. From what A.R.K.I. had said, Gerwald's sister had been put on trial over a fire incident. It had been going on for months. Katrine had a suspicion about what it had meant for the young Lupine. With the way Lechners led their life, hiding who they were, not even fully grasping the strength they possessed as a species, Katrine was convinced that a locked up Lupine wouldn't risk exposing herself or her family. Stewjon seemed bad enough in her eyes before this that the young Witch had no intention of just letting it go or even sneaking into it the dead of night. No, Stewjon needed a reminder it was part of the Confederacy and there were rules within the Confederacy.

She was seated on a beautifully decorated two-seater, with a bottle of Abrax beside her. One glass was empty beside the bottle, and another was in her half, half empty already. Her lips pressed together at the taste but she was drinking it slowly. It was the first time she'd tasted a drink since the night on Stewjon, the results on her mind being something she'd never felt before. Next day it had been even worse. Katrine now knew that her memories were horrifically incomplete. In the state she had been in, already in too much shock in understanding her Father had been wrong and faced with a Lupine that wasn't of her blood, and in the presence of his home where the scents of Lupines had been everywhere, she had missed two Lupines. Three technically but she had vaguely seen Gerwald's Mother as he'd brought her in before she'd faded away.

The second glass was for Gerwald. Though Katrine had vanished quickly into the separate room once she'd collected the alcohol and the glasses, aware of Pebble's presence even though she hadn't seen her as she'd made her way through the hall. Now, she was just sitting here and hiding, for lack of better word. No, not for lack. Fact. She was hiding. Pebble chose to leave her, chose to blame her for this. She'd gone so far as the denounce he and the Mandragora. Katrine had been more broken hearted over that than anything else when she hadn't thought for a single moment that anything between her and Gerwald affected the two of them. She loved her too much to ever think that and yet, there was Pebble, accusing her after she'd spent her week in the Darkness thinking it had been a year, thinking Katrine had betrayed her and sold her to Avarisa so she could be with Gerwald. Only one fact from that scenario had been true and it hadn't been to betray. It didn't matter. Despite everything, Katrine released hed. From herself and the pact. If she wanted that than Katrine would give her that. And right now, she didn't want to be the face to remind the girl of what had happened, didn't want to make it worse when she hadn't really expected her to be here at all. Then again, she hadn't expected herself to be here either.

She was though. To a wedding. A ceremony she didn't comprehend. For two people she hardly knew. One of them, she had helped after Tatooine and was adopted into the Dib family and part of the Doashim pact. Which made the Nightmother's presence a little more important but not really, right? She was just a guest here. And one that was ultimately here to see her Uncle because of the situation on Stewjon. Once upon a time, Katrine would have just gone. She would have just marched in without thinking at all. She was a different person then, young and reckless. She was still young but what had happened on Orcus, what had happened on Ryloth and everything after was teaching her lessons she didn't expect.

Rising her glass to her mouth, she took a small sip again, sapphire gaze focused into the wall in front of her. Despite the decorations ahead, Katrine wasn't really paying attention.

[member="Seren"] [member="Gerwald Lechner"]​

 

[Muad Dib]

After [member="Zesiro"] released him from the hug he listened to her words as she spoke to the gathering. A frown deepened upon his face as he folded his arms across his chest.

"No, I will not do you the honor of walking you down the aisle and give you away."

He held the glowering gaze upon her for mere seconds before a beaming smile broke the facade. Reaching out he took her hands in his.

"You see, the honor isn't yours. It's mine. I'm honored that you would offer me this right, to be a part of your marriage. I'm honored Zes'ika. Yes, I will."

Wrapping his arms around her, careful to ensure he didn't ruin her dress in anyway, he have her a return hug. Releasing her he coughed lightly into his hand.

"Is anyone else's allergies acting up? Must be pollen or something..."

Turning his head he cleared his throat before turning back to the group. Looking between [member="Anya Malvern"] and @Harley Fenstermacher he arched a brow. Then a smirk back to [member="Tom Taff"] a and his inquisitive question.

"Tis good to meet you Harley. And be careful with Any'ika, she may steal your heart before you know it. And I'm already married Tom. Blessings of being mando'ad, all you need are a few words in a quiet moment. Long overdue. And this time it's not a bear."

He chuckled lightly as he wiped his eyes. Dang that shabla pollen.

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: The Fortressa - Ceremony/Banquet Hall
Wearing: This
Interacting With: Adron Malvern

Alessandra, in fact, did not know that her companion for the evening had been married previously to a member of the bridal party. She had focused on his record within the Empire more than anything else when he’d first darkened her doorway. His personal details were of little use to the Minister of Commerce. She simply needed his skill set, knowledge base, and temperament to make an adequate assessment. Her response to the Vicelord must have gone over well because not long afterward, he equaled her in status. Things had changed, however. Alessandra could tell when someone was not giving her their full attention, heresy if there ever was such a thing, and her full lips forming a perfect pout would speak volumes.

“Where do you keep disappearing to?”, she questioned, not at all ashamed to call him on his momentary pause. He’d definitely been distracted ever since they’d boarded the Fortressa.

She could feel his eyes on her now. Focused, finally. The curvaceous half-epicanthix could feel the amusement in his smile, the way he returned her banter, versus remaining stalwart and tall. That was one thing she liked about the Minister of War. He could give cheeky impudence just as well as she delivered it. The witty repartee kept her alert and ever on her toes. This time it was his change in inflection that intrigued her more than anything else. Where had this gentleman come from? “I wouldn’t say downtrodden. You’re very much so in your own head tonight. It makes me wonder what you’re thinking. I don’t like to wonder. I like to know.”

He explained that he wasn’t one to keep someone waiting long and she laughed, the sound soft, like velvet roses. It was not high-pitched like some women, and it certainly, could not be called girlish. Very little about her could be called that. Alessandra let her eyes linger on his for a moment before they continued toward the designated area. Droids, acting as ushers, kept subtly pushing them all in the right direction. “You have a very particular way of wording it, however, I must disagree. The Confederacy does not always aim to win. We aim to learn.”

It had been the hardest lesson that the leadership of the Confederacy had been forced to swallow against their will. They were a well-oiled war machine. They manufactured droids constantly, almost wastefully, to ensure that they always held the advantage of numbers against their opponents. They weren’t like the Mandalorians, where there were no civilians, or like the Sith Empire where power and loyalty bled from the seams of every family. They had to make up for their disadvantages in other ways.

Her dark-haired escort asked how she felt about his Imperial roots and her lips curved upward again. It seemed that he had also focused on her professional history versus personal. Her tone was playful, truly, expressing that she was obviously teasing him from start to finish. “How ever did you discover my secret Minister? I’m deathly terrified of such a strong, worldly Imperial, carrying a cane.”

If she were being honest, as a Creed, she had been born in the Pancath Reach and raised in Brentaal IV. In essence, she had been brought up with a very Imperial frame of mind, and to that extent, worried her very little. That was a story for another time, perhaps, when they weren’t walking arm in arm to watch a few members of the Confederacy speak their vows.

Chestnut eyes found a face that for some reason held her focus for a moment longer than the rest ([member="Katiara Initrios"]). Alessandra couldn’t, for the life of her, say why. She was well dressed, certainly, in a little black number but so were dozens of other females in attendance. “Do you recognize her?”, Alessandra murmured to her date, however, before they could really discuss it they were all ushered into the ceremonial hall. The dark-haired man at her side sat quietly, not seeming to mind their position, and once more she thought nothing of it. He looked straight ahead and a smirk dotted her expression. “Such a good little Imperial…”, she whispered, before taking one of his hands from his walking stick, to loosely drape his arm behind her. Better. Much, better. She would much prefer to lean against him versus the cold back of the chair and it wasn’t as if she intended to bite.

Her delicate form angled toward his, though she was turned more toward the door, clearly awaiting the entry of the bride ([member="Zesiro"]).

 

[Adron Malvern]

Location: The Fortressa Ceremony Hall
Objective: Watch the ceremony
Interacting with: [member="Alessandra Creed"]
Wearing: This

Equipment: Walking Stick
Post: II

"A large reason I am here is so I can learn to win....more." Adron's point was made as he peered over to the altar, a slight smile brought on from the way he worded his retort. To be fair, the young Minister did have a tendency to win a large number of his conflicts. As the remainder of the crowd flooded into the hall, Adron would occasionally turn his head to see if he could find a stray face of familiarity. So far, the only familiar face he had seen had been Alessandra's.

Alessandra's playful tone caused Adron to stifle the slightest bit of a chuckle. A half-lived snort escaped him before his eyes fell on the woman before him. It was that playful gleam in her eye that caused the briefest moment of admiration. "Don't worry. I'll keep myself contained, for now." His own voice had taken a playful overtone which he was quite enjoying. Something about this moment, something about The Confederacy, and something about Alessandra- it was reminding him of his home. A brief, yet genuine, smile came over his face yet it was quickly replaced with his more natural stoic expression.

Taking a moment to glance down to his torso, Adron brushed a few stray flecks from the material. Keeping it clear of any particles that may have wandered onto it, his brow arched when Alessandra asked him about one of the females entering the hall. "I don't recognize anyone." He muttered, not even bothering to lift his head for a moment. After making sure his coat was cleared he looked up, being offered a spare glance of the woman before his eyes returned to Alessandra. "No. The only people here I expect to know are you and Zesiro." He said, his expression turned to one of supreme disinterest. Honestly, not many of the people here concerned him. He had not even wished to be in attendance, yet as the Minister of War it would have been in poor taste to avoid a ceremony with such a turn out.

Alessandra's comment caused him to draw his lips into a thin line, feigning a neutral expression while his eyes yet held that hint of amusement. "Careful Minister....I'm not as good as you think." He responded, his free hand tightening around her. Adron did not speak, yet he did softly pull the woman closer to him, his blue eyes glancing down at her to see if there would be any debate, he did not expect any.

 

[Ravenfire]

Tom would look at [member="Muad Dib"] as he got emotional. This was a very big occasion for the man after all so it made sense to him. Quietly in the back of his mind he knew no one had heard his comment on his people or the darkness of his tone or face. After all those where his demons to fight and maybe one day some echani would finally be brave enough to try. But it was unlikely that would happen today, so he kept to himself as muad said his was crying due to pollen.

Tom never did understand why mandalorians especially the males, seemed to have such trouble expressing emotions. Then Maud answered his question. Muad was already married in a quite ceremony. He wasn't going to ask about the bear. He could feel it was a bad subject to touch on. He thought about a wedding to Mykes. He had a feeling a quite ceremony would be better than any of these types of ceremonies he had been to.

[member="Zesiro"] , [member="Anya Malvern"] and @Harley Fenstermacher

 

[Harley Fenstermacher]

Location: Ball Room
Objective: (1) Attend the Ceremony
Weaning: All White
Interacting With: [member="Anya Malvern"] [member="Muad Dib"] [member="Tom Taff"]

Harley gave Anya a coy smile as she locked her hand with his own, the woman's reaction always being something nice to experiences in person, "we will indeed, but the future is always in motion, though I have a fairly good idea of what is in store". He solwy turned around to view Maud before he left with the bride to be, a chuckle escaping at both him and Anya's comments, "I am not sure weather to take that as a threat or compliment, though the whole heart business may be a little to late, though I am sure I can handle it". Harley may not have been a front line fighter like his mother, but heck if the Echani was just going to be a push over, he had recently starting more combat training.

As Muad and Zesiro walked away he to locked arms with the red hair women, "your adoptive father is quite a interesting person, I look forward to meeting him again in the future, but I think now we should be taking our seat now"? Before turning away he gave a small not to the man called Tom standing to the side, "oh and good to mee you to Tom, not sure what you whole family thing is but tell your dad that I am always willing to work with him again some time, shame he had to leave".

With a small wave he made a small gesture for Anya to lead, the two walking over to the side where the brides friends and family would sit as the ceremony began.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Objective: BYOO
Wearing: This
With: [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"]
Post: 1

———————————​

Gerwald had no idea why they were at a wedding. Katrine said they needed to go, so they went. Not a day had gone by where he was not with her, not since...

He didn’t want to think about it.

She was in black, and so was he. A black tuxedo, white shirt, and a bow tie that A.R.K.I. had to instruct both he and Katrine on how to tie it. Gerwald felt, wrong, about the clothes he was in. He knew Katrine loved her dresses, but Gerwald, he preceded the clothes more akin to what he wore on Stewjon. Simple was his preferred style, and simple was no what he was wearing. Whoever invented a shirt that came with buttons that had to be slipped though a small hole... that person deserved to be shot.

Gerwald dressed up because he had to, and he hoped Katrine like it.

As soon as they had arrived Katrine grabbed drink, two glasses and bolted to a private room.

SHE was there. Gerwald felt her presence, one he knew intimately well. He looked around, his eyes landing on her, THAT DRESS. What was she wearing. Ger pushed any thoughts of what had happened to cause their end out of his mind. It wasn’t healthy to dwell on them.

Gerwald found Katrine next to a small table, an empty glass waiting for him. He walked over to the table and took the top off the odd colored liquid. It had better have been strong.

”She’s here,” he stated the obvious and sighed. Gerwald wished things would not have ended as they did.

A sip of the drink was taken as Gerwald had his back to the Wall Katrine had been staring at. Ironic that they were at a wedding, a thing, a ceremony she did not understand. His blue gaze looked to the blonde who was clearly distracted.

”You okay? Do you want me to track down [member="Darth Metus"] for you?”

[member="Seren"]

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Location: One of the seats in the back of the wedding hall
Wearing: This incredibly revealing dress + combat boots
Wielding: Czerka knives in her combat boots, a champagne glass filled with vodka
Tags: none yet
Posts: 2

There is nothing for you outside the Darkness.

Why?! Why had she come here? This was a place the entire Confederacy had been invited to simply for being part of the Confederacy. Of course they would show up! Of course they would both show up! Together! She hadn't thought of it, hadn't thought it through. The presence of both of them hit her chest like a bag of bricks and she almost choked, unable to find the air her lungs desperately needed.

Scherezade stood up, ready to march right out. She had to leave. She wasn't strong enough to face them yet, wasn't strong enough to share breathing air with them yet. She wasn't strong enough to keep herself from either throwing herself at them with tears and begs of forgiveness or with daggers to cut their hearts out.

You are weak, child.

She downed the remains of her glass in one go, the liquor moving its way through her insides, warming up places that were already burning. But it also hit her head and the room started spinning. She leaned against the wall to steady herself, to keep herself from falling. She needed... She needed...

She needed a refill.

Walking in a crooked line, Scherezade managed to make her way to the nearest bar, pointing at her glass. "Vodka," she said, pointing at her empty glass. She needed to dim it all out. She needed to make it stop. She needed the stone to cover her heart, to make all the feelings go away.

Her glass was filled and she emptied it in a single gulp. It was stupid, what she was doing. She knew the effects of a hangover, and she knew that this time Gerwald would not be there to make her a drink that made those effects go away. She didn't want that memory. That memory of the morning after, how he had taken care of her, how he had treated her so gently...

NO!

Another glass was filled. When your medicine fails, increase the dosage.

You had two people when you entered the Darkness. You will have none when you leave it.

 

[Lyla Quinn]

Location: The Bar (duh)
With: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]

“…well, gawd-damn,” Lyla Quinn declared, an eyebrow raised in approval as she watched the young woman drain her vodka like it was water. “And I thought I hated weddings. You really don’t wanna be here, do you?” The Twi’lek sat at the bar a seat away, rose-gold skin shimmering in the candlelight as she nursed a tall glass of something bright blue and fizzy. The sleek silk of her aqua gown had been hiked up above her knees and tucked under her thighs, giving her thick-soled dark brown combat boots room to move unencumbered as she restlessly swung her legs back and forth.

“Y’know, it’s none of my business, but… whatever you’re tryin’ to forget? Vodka ain’t gonna do it.” The smuggler made no effort to move closer, giving the girl her space, but she did offer her an understanding (if slightly lopsided) smile. “Friend of the lucky couple? Or you just here for the drinks and stellar decorations? The CIS outdid themselves this time, I’ll tell ya.” She took a swig, stirring her concoction with a long silver spoon. “Bet the centerpieces on the tables would go for a small fortune on the market,” Quinn mumbled into her glass.

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Objective: Mostly, just be confused
Wearing: This (Dathomirian symbols across her exposed skin not seen in the picture)
Post: Two

Her sapphire gaze shifted to the sound of Gerwald's voice. She's here. It made her head nod. Katrine knew she was there. "I know," she muttered against her glass before taking another sip. As he moved over to the wall, leaning against it, she looked in its direction again and him. It was the most dressed she'd seen him. And while she didn't mind the look one single bit, he could pull it off whether he was aware of it or not, she didn't mind either way. Shirt, shirtless, wolf, tuxedo... the thought suddenly made her smile a bit, letting her drift from everything else.

For just a second...

Because in the next, Gerwald was asking her if she was okay, not letting her answer that first before he asked if she wanted me to track her Uncle Isley for her. Her head shook. "We'll catch up with him after the... ritual? It's like a ritual, right?" Or something that looked like it. That was the point of all these witnesses, should have been though she still didn't get why there were so many of them. One would have been enough.

Was she okay? "I don't know. I didn't expect...," her voice drifted away mid-sentence before she forced a smile to stop herself from going on. After what Jart had said to her, Katrine understood that Pebble needed space and she was willing to give her all the space she needed, whether it was weeks or months. Years even. She'd meant what she said. She loved her, she'd always loved her even after all she'd said.

One more sip from her glass emptied. Rather than pouring another, she stood and walked slowly over to him, her forced smile become more natural as she did. Hand outstretched, finding the edge of his jacket, fingers crushing against one of the buttons as she looked up to meet his eyes. "I'm not okay. I'm just giving her space she asked," she finally admitted. "But now that you are here, you could dance with me. That's still something they do on these things, right?" People danced at parties. Somehow, it made sense if they made a massive party out of a claiming ritual, then it would involve dancing.

[member="Seren"] [member="Gerwald Lechner"]​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Objective: BYOO
Wearing: This
With: [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"]
Post: 2

_________________________________________________​

​

Of course she knew, and yet Gerwald had still said it. He couldn't not say it, not after the events that had passed between all of them. Ger was unsure of how long the guilt was going to last, and while he knew that he could not continue to let it eat away at him, he needed to feel it for a little longer. It was only worsened by the news his sister [member="Alwine Lechner"] was being held for setting a massive fire on the night of his departure. This was his fault to. Why had it taken the events of the past few weeks to show him what was a major flaw in who he was. Gerwald had so much wrong to make right, and getting his sister and brother off Stewjon was chief among them.

Ger nodded when Katrine told him they could wait until after the ceremony. That was when she asked if it was. Again he nodded. He understood from their time on Ryloth together what she thought about ceremonies. They were superfluous to her, and Gerwald couldn't disagree. They were simply tradition. There was really no other way to explain it,

She finally smiled, it was forced, but she smiled. Gerwald took another drink as she approached. She wasn't sure if she was okay, and he understood exactly what she meant. Katrine was not okay. Gerwald was not okay. They both loved Scherezade, and while the offense was Gerwald's to carry the girl had blamed them both.

"Dance... at a wedding... if this was on Stewjon..."

Even saying the name of his planet caused his gaze to turn away. Katrine knew why, and they had told each other this was it... after this was done they would go and get his siblings. Gerwald forced his gaze back to Katrine, putting a smile on his face. He took her hand and walked back to the table with her, where he set his half empty glass next to the bottle of whatever that stuff was he was drinking. It wasn't long before his other arm came around her waist, barely.

Ger was still not a good dancer, not without... His eyes closed and he picked a tempo in his mind and began to move.

"If this were Stewjon the music would lively, the mead would be flowing, and we would all be so drunk that whatever movements our bodies could make would not be able to be called dancing. Committing a life time to someone, in that culture, it is a pretty big deal, all the pomp and circumstance which surrounds it... but it is only a representation of what two lovers have already committed to each other in their hearts. This though... how lavish all this is... it is beyond me."

He kept moving with her, trying to distract them both from what had been said about Scherezade. What else was there to say? Katrine was not okay, so Gerwald would do what he could to make her feel better, even though he felt as though Scherezade returning was the only thing that would do that. As they continued his tempo though, it was clear that Gerwald could not keep the smile on his face.

"We have to get them..."

[member="Seren"]

 

[Mira Cavataio]

Objective: Surprise sweet La'Ca
Wearing: This (protective tattoos not shown on image)
Post: Three

The ship docked to the Fotressa after the Optivus Res identified herself. She was Cavataio, she was the daughter of the Leritor's Viceroy... it hadn't been so once. She had been born to her daughter, was her granddaughter before she had become her Optivus Res but now, she was no longer Mira, daughter of Lauda. She belonged to her Dea more than she had ever. Mira bathed in this knowledge, her devotion only increased in the only way it could, in bringing her closer to Petra in the ways of her blood. She was pure now, a true Optivus Res, a true Cavataio. Daughter of the Goddess.

And tonight, the Optivus Res intended on surprising her favorite and dance. She could always do these two things but the surprise for La'Ca would no doubt be even greater.

Mira exited her ship, dress already on her as one of the staffers led her through the ship where the ceremony would be held. She didn't require an escort, her heart filling. She could feel them both, telling where her Dea was and where her La'Ca was. No doubt, they would be feeling her presence soon enough as well. Some floors later, the staffer merely pointed her forward, decorations making it obvious she had been brought to the right floor. She walked, endings of her dress trailing behind her. Her dress was a perfect fit, exposing enough for her to be comfortable with the fabric yet still... civil. That was fine though, she enjoyed the soft fabric for the moment.

Her heartfelt happier still as she approached the main hall, feeling the presence of both women. Mira walked into the already filling room, following the guide of her devotion until she had found the Goddess, kneeling at her side for a moment. Whether she possessed the willpower or not to make her see her favorite before she had seen her Dea, Mira didn't care much to find out, her devotion even without the hold was greater than she would always come to give her respects to her Goddess before fun time. "Dea," the Optivus Res only said, not paying attention to any passing faces.

[member="La'Ca Cavataio"] [member="Petra Cavataio"]​

 

[Minerva Vessia]

Location: Fortressa, Ceremony Hall​

Attention: N/A​

Dress: Made of Dathomiri Spider Silk. ​

Hair​

Post: 3​

​

​

Because of her delay in the corridor Minerva had just placed the none PG-13 gift down. Well it was PG-13 because the item was not mentioned in the post. Though when Minerva wrapped the fun gift she had no idea who the happy couple would be, so there was a chance the happy couple may not like the gift. To Minerva this was a perfectly acceptable gift. Maybe it was best if the happy couple did not open all the gifts in front of the guests? Or maybe the happy couple should not show all the gifts that they open?

Then package was lost among the sea of weeding gifts and then that’s when the lists flickered. Picking up the front hems of her dress again Minerva made her way as quickly as possible. Sensing something off Minerva stopped and looked over to the bar.

[member="Scherezade deWinter"] was sanding at the bar drinking what looked like vodka? Every bit of her body posture and facial expression read like she was in pain. Minerva could sense it through the Force as well. Not to mention her Coven tramp stamp was missing as well. (Tramp Stamp, Mandoragora tattoo)

Following the flow of the suffering was not hard to do. The trail through the Force lead Minerva look to look through the distance. There was [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] still wearing her tramp stamp and she was dancing with [member="Gerwald Lechner"], in another room. Farseeing was so tricky and it could play with the mind. Even though, it was evident now why Pebble was in so much pain. It was also visible who was being a tramp.

Pebble may have not had her mark on Gerwald but the two Minerva has seen to be a couple. It was very taboo for one witch to steal another witch’s man, or woman. Maybe even in some circles droids could be marked. Don’t judge peeps. Pebble was very much part of the Coven. So this to Minerva was very bad.

As Mini’s eyes went to gaze back on Pebble her eyes stopped to see Grandma [member="Petra Cavataio"] , [member="La’Ca Cavataio"] and [member="Mira Cavataio"]. Minerva did not know if they knew what to foolery was happening but was sure they would not be happy.

Glancing around the room more Minerva’s eyes feel upon [member="[Katiara Initrios"]. This was someone knew Minerva had not seen before and Minerva could feel the influence of Jart upon her. This was a new member of the Mandragora. She was on the way to the bar, so this just made sense. Someone had to act like there was still part of this Coven!

With the front of her dress still hiked up so she could walk normally, just high enough to see the front chins of her legs. Minerva had started to walk over to [member="Katiara Intrios"]. “Hello”, Minerva said while walking over. She would have waved but her hands were busy.

“We’ve not meet yet. My name is Minerva Vessia. So when did you become part of the Mandragora”, Minerva was all smiles even though she felt super bad for Pebble. She new Pebble could use a super big hug and she would most likely get stabbed in the process. That was Pebble charm though and Pebble was still a friend.

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Objective: Mostly, just be confused
Wearing: This (Dathomirian symbols across her exposed skin not seen in the picture)
Post: Four

Mention of his planet made him look away. Katrine waited, having not forgotten why they were here and what the next step was. When he did look back at her, there was a smile on his face, her own lighting up a bit more at the sight of his, her hand taken before she was led back to the table so he cut set the glass down.

His hand fell to her back before they had started dancing. Her smile faded just slightly before it lit up a little wider to the movements, remembering herself dance alongside Chloe. It was when Katrine had fallen in love with dancing, from where she had really learned to fight, making it easier when she learned with her older sister. Normally, thinking of Chloe made her sad but right now, in his arms, it made it somehow okay. Just a little bit.

Her hand reaching for his other one. Katrine knew how to dance. There were plenty of ways though their height difference made it impossible for some of them, without the Force at least. That was okay though. When she danced, she couldn't tell the difference, flowing alongside his movements.

Gerwald spoke as they moved, talking about Stewjon. The music would be lively and there would be plenty of mead. And everyone would be drunk so it wouldn't really be dancing. Katrine remembered. Stewjon had been the only world where she had gotten drunk. Though she hadn't danced at all while she was there. He talked about commitment, about the pomp and circumstance but it wasn't the ritual itself. It too was different from where they were now.

"There are words spoken on Dathomir. If there is a witness, one of your clan is all that is needed. Some clans have larger gatherings but for us, it isn't necessary. Claiming is between two people," she spoke after a few moments. This wasn't Dathomir though and Katrine belonged to three spirits so she could always have three witnesses when she required them.

After a short while though, he spoke again. Katrine didn't need explanations for what he meant. "We will. No more time wasting. We'll get them both out," she promised. She was resolved. If she had known sooner, she would have insisted they'd gone but with the situation at hand, it wasn't just a simple trip to Stewjon so she could meet them and give them a ride off the planet. One didn't tell a Witch someone was put on trial and accused of being a Witch, whether she was one or not. She wasn't going to allow it to continue anymore. "They'll pay, every single one of them," she said after a beat, looking up at him. She was serious now, no trying to cheer each other up anymore. All her personal pain aside, the Nightmother was growing angry with what was going on.

[member="Seren"] [member="Gerwald Lechner"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Location: One of the seats in the back of the wedding hall
Wearing: This incredibly revealing dress + combat boots
Wielding: Czerka knives in her combat boots, a champagne glass filled with vodka
Tags: [member="Lyla Quinn"]
Posts: 3

When you leave the Darkness, you will have no one.

Someone was speaking to her. Scherezade blinked, forcing her gaze to move from the bottom of her glass to the woman's voice. Her eyes landed on a pale Twi'lek and she blinked again. Someone was talking? To her? This was not something she had thought would happen. People within the Confederacy hated her. Well maybe not hated, well maybe only two hated, but the others didn't particularly like her. And now someone was speaking to her? A third blink came as her woozy brain tried to make sense of the words.

"I was invited," she said, her tone somewhere between slury and defensive. Why else was she there? She had no better answer to give, nothing that would come to her mind. Nothing about why she had chosen the dress she was wearing, despite the fact that it was literally impossible to hide knives underneath it. "I don't know who's getting married," she added shyly after that.

Social situations. Scherezade sucked at them. She didn't know how small talk worked, how to use sentences to continue conversations. She needed a certain connection with most people for that, a specific goal or reason that was more tangible than just keep talking. To date, there were exactly two people she could actually randomly talk to. And she had burned the bridges with both of them.

She pointed her arm to the bartender, getting it refilled again. She really had to stop. Drinking was bad. She had promised herself years, no, weeks ago. It was a few weeks ago. She had not been in the Darkness for years, even though her mind was sure of it. They had told her, they had sworn, that it had only been a week, and the dates checked out. So it was only a few weeks ago that she had her first sip and had gotten drunk for the first time. And... Under the influence, had poured her heart out. Alcohol was bad. Alcohol was horrible. But alcohol was currently the only thing that took at least some of the edge off. It numbed some of her paint. But even with it, she could feel the pain, the betrayal, the will to run back with her tail tucked between her legs, it was all still so strong. How strong would it have been if she wasn't drunk out of her mind? She was too scared to even consider it.

"But forgetting-" she wanted to answer, suddenly remembering the Twi'lek had said something about the drink. But something else happened.

Movement.

Scherezade's sight snapped to behind the Twi'lek, right to where the opening to the private room was. "Private" was a weird word to use since there were no actual doors to the room. And she saw them. She saw them. Katrine, looking lovely as always. Gerwald, looking... Exceedingly handsome, though not like himself. It was bad enough when she could feel their presence. But now emerald eyes landed on the two forms of the only two people she'd truly had in her life, and a small gasp made it through her lips. She didn't want to see them. But she couldn't tear her gaze away.

Everything inside of her wanted to scream. She wanted to grab the bar and tear it out from the hinges. They weren't just together in a private room. They were... They were dancing. Her mind snapped back to the night of the bonfire, the night she and Gerwald danced an intense tango that had led to many other things. Seeing him and Katrine dancing, without the music, it brought the memory on harder and faster than she ever thought possible. She couldn't even take joy in the knowledge that Gerwald knew how to dance with her, and obviously did not with Katrine. Jealousy, anger, betrayal. She wanted to say something but all that ran through her mind were the words Chosen, Claimed, Loved. The three words that had broken her, with the middle on in particular.

Scherezade wanted to vomit. She looked around in panic, the glass in her hand now visibly shaking. But there was nothing around to take her attention away, nothing she could focus on. Whatever shred of willpower she had left was enough to not jut openly stare at the two who thought they had some privacy. And why wouldn't they? She had wished them a happy life together, she had wished them death surrounded by fat grandchildren.

She leaned against the bar, unaware for the moment as to how the dress looked on her when she was in that angle. She was going to be sick. She had to leave the Fortressa...

The Fortressa.

No, she had to sit down. She had to sit down as she fought the tears that threatened to rush out of her eyes. She hated the Fortressa! She had been here a grand total of two times if you included this one. And the last time she had been alone as well, because Gerwald had made a promise and he had broken it, and he had gone to sleep with Katrine while Scherezade waited for him in quarantine to come check up on her. And now the three of them were here again, and Gerwald was with Katrine again, and the fact that this was at least in part because she'd burned bridges with them both did not matter, because the bottom line was that they were happy together on the Fortressa again, and she was alone on the Fortressa, AGAIN!

There is no one out there for you, child.

The glass in her hand was shaking violently now, some of the refilled vodka spilling on her, some on the bar itself. She wanted to move but her feet remained frozen. She wanted to leave, but it was almost as though her body thought she was quarantined again.

Scherezade closed her eyes. She just wanted it all to stop. Make all the pain go away. Her hand gripped the bar. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. She couldn't. She had to. She was going to burn something, she was going to break something, she was going to ruin a wedding and make everyone hate her more again and again and again and again.

It took several breaths before the shaking stopped, before she could open her eyes, before another gasp of pain left her mouth.

"Refill," she croaked, her voice broken. Maybe if she could bring herself to the point of fainting, she would wake up on her ship and at least not be alone amongst a crowd, and things would be a little bit less worse, just a tiny bit less worse, just for a few precious moments.

You had two people when you entered the Darkness. You will have none when you leave.

 

[Edric Vanyan]

​

Location: Fortressa, Ceremony Room​

Post: 2​

​

​

Edric had been more or less directed to the right place, being driven like a piece of cattle to the room where he was getting his ear chatted off. The ones that had set up everything were asking him what he wanted changed, what he wanted different, if there was anything that he liked and should keep. IT made him stare towards the ground, trying to figure out what it was that he could do to just get this over with and do things how he wanted and relax with Zes somewhere he could just be with her.

He was not his father, he hated showy things and hated being put in situations where he was the one that people looked at for any reason. Sure he didn't mind the commands he had been given in addition to the job he had now, being left to uphold his father's will long past his rule. But this was ridiculous and he wondered how they got roped into such an event. IT made him annoyed and he just waved his hand, moving out of the room again and leaning against the wall, his head pounding as he tried to understand how to take all this.

With a breath in he saw Nida Vaal nearby, the leader of his personal guard and the one watching over him. He smiled a bit and thought on the manner. Perhaps he didn't have to put up with all of this. Sure the CIS could have their party like his father would have done, and this was set up so they could have their fun while Zes and Edric celebrated. So why not let them... while Zes and Edric celebrated.

He looked at Nida and walked over to her, whispering giving her some words to pass on while he started walking off in the opposite direction of the ceremony room, leaving Nida to walk off and find Zesiro quick.

And it would not take long for the woman to find Zesiro who was close enough that it only took a few minutes. She cleared her throat and rose her voice to speak to [member="Zesiro"], interrupting [member="Muad Dib"], [member="Tom Taff"], [member="Anya Malvern"] and Harley.

"My dear, the organizers would like to speak with you. If you do not mind following me, that would be most appreciated, they were rather insistent on seeing you as soon as possible." Nida waited, giving no hint to the others as to why she was there, but Zesiro would understand well enough who she was talking about. The Keshiri would wait patiently and silently from that point on, only starting to leave with Zesiro joined her and came along.

Once done, the two would walk through the ship, heading for a certain yacht that was meant as a present for the two, and for a certain person who was waiting by the boarding airlock, leaning back against the door with his eyes closed and patiently smiling to himself.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Objective: BYOO
Wearing: This
With: [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"]
Post: 3

—————————————​

The very act of dancing pulled Gerwald back to the fire with Scherezade. She had wanted Gerwald to be free, stupidly free, and t had led to everything that brought him to where he was now. There were ways this dance would never be able to the same as that, but was any dance. Gerwald took comfort in the fact that while there had been firsts with Scherezade, there would also be firsts with Katrine. This was their first dance, and Gerwald had to see it that way. Gerwald felt he would always be an awkward dancer, but Katrine seemed to be enjoying herself. It relieved the pressure that things had to be right. It was enough to be with her.

Katrine spoke of words, comparing what Gerwald said about the ceremony to how things happened on Dathomir. There were words and one witness was enough to make a claim. It was certainly not like what he knew of Stewjon, but Gerwald didn’t want to mention it again. He contained a sigh because there was no reason for it. There was a curiosity though.

”Words? Like vows? Here they will speak vows, promises to each other.”

What Katrine describe was more private, and a much more intimate thing. They had already spoken of claiming of each other. It was something Katrine wanted, a choosing like her parents had. He was convinced she was his future, and there was something about dancing with her, while explaining what a wedding was, that made think back to that conversation, and the promise he had made after Scherezade left.

I will never leave you.

He would not leave her. She would help him rescue his siblings. Gerwald could only imagine how desperate Alwine must have been being held without being able to change. With what their mother had taught them, there was no way she would betray their family by changing. It would not be a betrayal at all. Gerwald had learned they were the dominant species, they should have been enforcing their will on Stewjon.

Pay... they would make them pay. Each one. A cunning grin pulled at Gerwald’s face before he kissed Katrine for the thought. He didn’t care that she was growing angry over what was happening with his sister and the trial. Her anger on the matter was justified.

”If I wouldn’t have been so selfish...”

Gerwald released Katrine from his hold and went back to his glass. He took another drink and the sigh he had held back earlier finally escaped.

”We will burn all their lavish homes to the ground... no more castes...”

He spoke of the ruling elite.

”After I free Alwine!”

[member="Seren"]

 

[Cezar Alexandrescu]

Location: Fortressa, Random Corridor
Attention: N/A
Outfit: Knight’s armor
Post: 7

Patrols were being a dull part of the security detail. However, Cezar was happy not to be assigned to around the actual ceremony. There witches there, and the urged to attack them was great. She needed to stay focus. Orders over personal wants were more significant. She was a soldier. She would be a good one among those witches, but she did not want the temptation there to mess it all up for her. This was good and why ruin it. So kept checking rooms and spaces for anyone just in case.

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Objective: Mostly, just be confused
Wearing: This (Dathomirian symbols across her exposed skin not seen in the picture)
Post: Five

She nodded. "If the claiming is of the heart than the words are as well," Katrine explained. There were, of course, claiming rituals that weren't. Katrine was sure they had no words but they weren't claimings in the way she had been raised were important. Everything else there was had nothing to do with love and promises between lovers.

Her words caused a smile to him which told her he agreed completely with her, had him kiss her. Katrine kissed back but trials couldn't leave her mind.

Their dance ended just after he'd called himself selfish. Katrine stood there for a moment, watching him move back to the glass for another drink before stating he'd burn their lavish homes to the ground and end their castes before adding he would do it after he freed his sister. It was a sobering thought, ending castes. Gerwald clearly harboring plenty of resentment for the system he'd grown in, which surprised what he was meant to be. After all the world she'd lived in, Katrine knew systems like that didn't just get ended in a day, no matter how much one wanted. Orcani may have listened to Ceta but they still weren't fully in the clear. "Coruscant wasn't built in a day," she muttered something Mother like to joke about when she was younger. "They need to be reminded their how much they owe to the Confederacy and release themselves from archaic beliefs. But you'll always belong to a caste. Just not the one they forced you into believing." He was a Lupine. He didn't belong in the bottom of the foodchain but at the top. Hating one system didn't change any of that.

[member="Gerwald Lechner"]​

 

[Seren]

They were so close, and yet so far.

Over the course of many months, the Young Wolf had tracked a particular scent. Hers was the sweetest in the Galaxy - a divine aroma that rose high above the drivel. He could pick her out of thousands, know her presence out of millions...but despite having come close to [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"], Seren had yet to actually locate her. She was always entrenched with the Southern Systems, surrounded by her Mandragora and the Droid Armies. He had come close, but she was just beyond his reach. That, in of itself, was maddening.

But, just as the Young Wolf could find his elder sibling, she too could feel him. She knew he was there. Knew that he lived. Picked up on his scent when he was on the same miserable planet.

And she laid the trail of bread crumbs that would bring them back together.

By no other means would Seren have access to the monsterous vessel. Whether he was an honest civilian of the Confederacy or not, the day's events were above common access. To stand aboard the behemoth meant knowing somebody who knew somebody...and Seren, fortunately, was blessed with a ticket inside. A neat invitation appeared in an old account of his, prompting him to brave the Super Star Destroyer. Dressed to kill - metaphorically - he arrived as simply a pale face among a swath of others.

And at first whiff, the event was disgusting. A distorted cacophany of perfumes and colognes invaded his nostrils as he strode through the corridors. He squinted, attempting to keep his eyes from watering against the literal cloud of odor. Why people decided to bathe in these scents was beyond him, but he persevered nonetheless. What goaded him ever forward was the faint scent which hung above the rest. He knew it well. It guided him away from the festivities, away from prying eyes, into a space where conversation could be kept private.

It led him to [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] and her lover, @Gerwald Lechnar. Seren gave no karks upon arrival, breaching their space with not a word. And, once the door was behind them...

"You."

He finally had her. Finally found her.

The rage. The hurt. The abandonment. All mingled into a ragged croak of a voice. So long had be memorized what he would say to the woman who left him behind. Long had he thought of what he would do. But looking upon her...his hands trembled. And now his eyes stung all the more.

"W-Why."