Faction Capital Letters [DCN + Friends]

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Aurelian Veruna

Sibylla took another generous sip of her drink, blissfully unaware that the deceptively smooth concoction was laying the first bricks for tomorrow morning's hangover headache.

She snorted softly and rolled her eyes at Aurelian.

"Please..." she informed him primly in reference to the past. The present of course, was another thing. Yes, she liked what she saw. Too much. To the point she had to remind herself not to look or take his bait. Or let her mind wander, but that was another matter entirely, she told herself as she flushed, "I was observing in sheer amazement at your shameless audacity and infuriating theatrics. Half the time I genuinely could not decide whether you were attempting to make every negotiation revolve around you… or merely entertaining yourself."

A thoughtful pause, then she shot him a sideways glance and gave a slight amused huff.

"In retrospect," she added with grave certainty, "it was likely both." she added with distinct dryness, bringing the glass up to her lips just as when he mentioned eloping.

And that was when the next sip went catastrophically wrong.

Sibylla coughed mid-swallow, the fiery liquid taking a spectacular detour down the incorrect pipe. She clapped a hand over her mouth, unable to hold back the sticky sputter as she coughed, the cocktail's droplets clinging traitorously to her fingers as heat flooded her face in an alarming shade of crimson.

Elope.

Elope?!

"Get me a towel," she managed between sputters, voice strained and eyes watering as she turned slightly, praying to Shiraya that no one had witnessed her fauxpas.

Judging by the curious glances already drifting their way, she suspected that was highly unlikely.

 

[Aiden Porte]

Judah Dashiell​

Aiden's brows lifted, and a low, amused sound escaped him as Judah's meaning settled fully into place. He took another easy sip of his drink, letting the warmth of the liquor and the scent of the cigarra smooth into something oddly companionable.

"You dont say?" Aiden murmured, his smile turning sly at the edges as he glanced at Judah.

He chuckled lightly, then shook his head with an air of playful innocence that did not quite manage to hide the mischief in his eyes.

"Well, I didn't come here with a plan to take anyone back to my hotel room," he said smoothly. "If I wanted to make questionable choices under chandeliers, I could have stayed in Republic space and saved myself the travel."

Aiden's gaze swept the reception, taking in the glittering uniforms, the carefully composed smiles, and the quiet negotiations happening in plain sight.

"Besides," he added, tone warm and wry, "I am here for information, hopefully not a scandal. If I leave tonight with a name, a rumor, and a decent understanding of how this Commonwealth breathes, I will consider it a successful evening."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

For half a second, Aurelian simply stared at her as she choked on her drink.

Then he moved. He snagged a linen from a passing tray without asking and stepped neatly in front of her, shoulders blocking the worst of the curious stares. One hand pressed the towel gently into hers while the other relieved her of the glass before she could spill more of it.

"Easy," he murmured, lower now.

His mouth twitched despite himself. Those infuriating, audacious theatrics she claimed to hate had caught her attention well enough. They had worked. They always had.

"Alright," he said under his breath. "No eloping."

He held her drink away from her with mild suspicion and angled his body to shield her face as she recovered. A few onlookers lingered. He met their eyes calmly until they looked elsewhere.

Then he glanced down at her, studying the flush in her cheeks. "Is it the eloping," he asked softly, "or is it who you'd be eloping with that elicits such a reaction?"

Aurelian hesitated. Maybe he was too much. He had been told that before.

​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Aurelian Veruna

Even though he was at fault for causing her to sputter, there was no mistaking how he automatically moved into position to shelter her from view, to use that patrician stare of his to encourage onlookers to look elsewhere.

Protecting her even if he had been a shameless lothcat batting at his favorite toy.

Sibylla accepted the towel and worked quickly, dabbing at her hand and the lower half of her face with as much dignity as one could muster after nearly aspirating a diplomatic cocktail. Thankfully, only a few rebellious droplets had reached her dress. The true casualty was her pride.

A flicker of hazel lifted toward Aurelian, and she delivered a sharp half-glare the moment she caught the treacherous twitch at the corner of his mouth. However, in the next moment, it faded, because that was when Sibylla caught something else beneath it. It was edged with worry. Doubt.

Oh.

He wasn't joking anymore. He was being serious.

Sibylla slowed her movements, the towel lingering at the corner of her mouth as silence stretched between them, her eyes never once leaving his face.

"You just caught me off guard," she admitted quietly, the earlier irritation dissolving in the face of the expression she knew too well. That shadowed doubt. That careful, unspoken question he never quite asked aloud -- whether he was enough. Whether his history, his reputation, would one day make her hesitate.

The expression along her heartshape face softened and she finished cleaning off her hands.

"I was not expecting you to suggest that," she continued in a quiet voice only he could hear, "Patriarchs of Great Royal Houses do not elope...... however...." Her voice trailed as she bit her lower lip, and then, with deliberate and painfully honest care, she offered him the same words he had given her.

"I would favor wherever and however you want to marry me."

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Eyebrow raised, wondering if the young man was trying to flex how often he got laid in the High Republic. A small chuckle as Judah took it all in stride. He preferred his 'questionable choices under chandeliers' to occur a little more discretely than the man next to him. Was that the thing with the young kids now a days, bragging about conquests?

Speaking of, his gaze had been searching for Ryssa Yvarro .Just in case. Not that he had ever gotten far there.

"You know you can just arrange a meeting with the Grand Vizier, right? A horrible time to so, she just got married and I'm sure is looking forward to enjoying her honeymoon." Another long draw on his cigarra. "I think her assistant is here, I can point her out. Get you penciled in on the calendar."

Blue smoke curled around them as he thought of his next question.

"What does a Jedi like yourself need from the Commonwealth to begin with? Doesn't seem the type of....region, for you."

Aiden Porte ​

 

[Ryssa Yvarro]

Ambassador Hall had been transformed into something less like a venue and more like a declaration.

Three cascading crystal chandeliers descended from the vaulted ceiling like rings of captured starlight, refracting gold across the polished marble floor. The glow shimmered in quiet constellations along glassware, polished silver, and the subtle gilded inlay tracing elegant arcs beneath the untouched dance floor. Through the tall arched windows, Avalonia's skyline gleamed in dignified silence—towers of durasteel and transparisteel rising against the night, their light reflected faintly in the glass as though the city itself stood witness to the evening.

Ryssa arrived precisely on time.

As one might expect.

She paused just beyond the entrance, allowing herself a measured breath. Ivory and deep sapphire linens framed the hall in deliberate symmetry, low arrangements of white roses and silvered greenery resting in gold-rimmed vessels. Nothing here was accidental. Nothing ever was, where Ivalyn was concerned.

Her gown, midnight blue silk with a structured bodice and subtle silver threading along the neckline, caught the chandelier light with restrained elegance. Diamonds, tastefully minimal, rested at her ears and wrist. She did not compete with the bride. She never would. But she was unmistakably Ryssa Noehmi Yvarro.

Raqo was not far off, already drifting into the currents of cousins, officers, and Merchant Marine acquaintances, his dress uniform sharp beneath the chandeliers. She watched him for only a moment before returning her attention to the room.

Commonwealth socialites gathered in crescent formations near the bar, industrial magnates in tailored black, admirals in formal dress blues heavy with medals, scholars in embroidered silks, distant relations in carefully chosen couture. Laughter rose in restrained intervals. Alliances were measured in glances. Conversations formed like quiet duels.

Ryssa moved among them with practiced precision.

A polite inclination of the head here. A tight, immaculate smile there. Brief acknowledgments. Strategic warmth without invitation. She listened more than she spoke. She always did.

The faint scent of citrus oils and polished wood lingered beneath the promise of champagne. From the recessed DJ station, bathed in cool sapphire uplighting, the evening's music swelled, refined orchestral arrangements transitioning gently toward a more modern waltz. Later, no doubt, it would give way to something more spirited.

For now, decorum reigned.

In truth, Ryssa had not expected to see Judah Dashiell among the guests. She had assumed he would send his regards, perhaps a tasteful gift. But upon a second sweep of the room—eyes sharp despite her outward composure, she spotted him near one of the rounded tables beneath the western chandelier ring.

He was engaged in conversation, posture relaxed, expression attentive. He wore a formal suit with subtle detailing at the cuffs, understated but elegant. He looked at ease in a way that felt… grounding.

Ryssa turned her gaze away before she lingered too long.

She approached the bar instead.

"One Galidraani Rosé," she requested smoothly.

The bartender nodded, retrieving a chilled bottle with a label she recognized instantly, Brussard Valley reserve. Acceptable. The pale blush liquid caught the light as it was poured into a crystal flute.

She took the glass in hand and allowed herself a slow sip, the dry floral notes settling warmly at the back of her palate.

Her eyes drifted once more toward Judah.

He did seem rather occupied.

Ryssa stood there a moment longer, composed and contemplative. She did not hover. She did not wait. She simply observed—measured, as always.

It would be entirely reasonable to allow him his conversation. Entirely dignified.

And yet.

The faintest flicker of something, curiosity, perhaps—stirred beneath her controlled exterior.

She took another sip of Rosé and weighed the room like a battlefield.

Approach now and interrupt?

Or allow him to come to her?

Either way, she would not be the one looking uncertain.

Judah Dashiell | Aiden Porte​

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Maybe he had hit a little too close with his questioning. Judah had no real reason to pry as to why Mister Porte was in the area but it was just unusual in his experience. He had encountered force users out this far but never one who actively declared themselves as Jedi. One of those oddities that would keep his interest through the night.

Taking a sip of his Banking Clan, oceanic gaze drifted across the space. Not too many dancing yet. Multiple groups of guests talking, laughing, eating. A joyous wedding and one that was well deserved for the couple. Just as he was about to harass Mister Porte some more, he caught sight of one Ryssa Yvarro. They had a date once, dinner. Set up by their children.

She looked stunning.

Putting out his cigarra in the ashtray, Judah immediately brushed any invisible lint off his suit. A small brush of his hand through his hair, not that anything should be astray.

"Mister Porte, excuse me for one moment. Do think of my offer for helping you get an appointment with Grand Vizier Yvarro. I would be happy to assist."

Purposefully, he strode across the event space, making a bee line straight to her. Given she had looked in his direction at least once that he saw, Judah knew his presence wasn't unwelcome. He tended to have horrible luck with the fairer sex. Considering she wasn't running away from him he would consider it a good sign so far.

Flashing a smile, he didn't push a formal greeting, no kiss on the cheek or press of the hand. Just in case.

"Miss Yvarro, you look stunning." Genuine warmth flooded his tone. "Congratulations, you must be proud to see your niece tie the knot. A beautiful ceremony."

Aiden Porte | Ryssa Yvarro ​

 

[Aselia Verd]

Wearing: [X]

Aselia noticed the pause in Adelle's reaction before she noticed anything else.

It wasn't obvious just the briefest hesitation before the drink was lifted, before composure returned but she saw it. She didn't comment on it, though the faintest curve touched her mouth as she stepped closer.

When Adelle thanked her for buying the dress, Aselia's expression softened slightly. The comment about credits wasn't dissected or examined, but it wasn't dismissed either.

"You don't need to thank me, I wanted to.," she said quietly. "If I'm going to show up looking like this, I have to make sure you are more distracting than me.."

Her gaze drifted over Adelle's dress again, approving in a way that was measured and deliberate rather than teasing. The next line she caught though.

Because even without weapons, you look killer.

Aselia's eyes lifted back to Adelle's face, and she held that look for a moment longer than required. There was warmth there, but also something assessing, as though she were deciding how much to let the compliment land.

Ultimately she decided to let the comment pass, with only a quiet awareness. "What did you order?" she asked, glancing at the glass in her hand.

TAG: Adelle Bastiel

​

 

[Ivalyn Yvarro]

Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna | Jasper Blackwood | Cyrine Zereth | Viers Connory | Aselia Verd | Adelle Bastiel | Kurayami Bloodborn | Judah Dashiell | Domar | Aiden Porte​

The speakers crackled softly before smoothing into clarity.

"Ladies and gentlebeings…"

The voice that filled the reception hall was deep, velvety, practiced. The kind of voice meant for coronations and state dinners.

"Please direct your attention to the main entrance. The wedding party, and our brides, have arrived."

A hush rolled across the marble floor like a tide pulling back from shore.

The chandeliers dimmed, not dark, but lowered into something intimate. Blue uplighting deepened against the marble walls, the gold inlays in the floor catching and holding the softened glow.

Then...

The opening notes of "DIVA" pulsed through the hall.

Low. Confident. Controlled.

The great doors parted.

A corridor of florals, ivory roses, midnight blooms, trailing greenery kissed with gold thread, framed the entrance. Friends and family stood on either side, clapping their hands to the beat, a living aisle of witness and celebration.

The wedding party entered first.

Raqo cutting up with some smooth dance moves. After him arived Josephine Halscott who danced with her husband under the arc and between the lined members of family and friends. Behind her, had been Drianos, Ivalyn's younger brother and his nephew Gavyn [Josie's son]. Both men were definitely reminding people that some Imperials shouldn't dance, but it was funny. Then in arrived Hela, Gavyn's sister and Frankie (Ivalyn's niece). The two danced their way down.

They moved with laughter and applause, silhouettes cut against the blue-lit archways. Dresses shimmered. Suits gleamed. The energy rose with the music, playful, electric, indulgent.

Nerralyn and Iskendyr were familial and polite, and then Ethanael brought it all up with his own very interesting dance.

But even as they filtered into the room, everyone knew.

They were not who the crowd was waiting for.


The bass deepened.

The doors widened again.

And there they stood.

Ivalyn.

Merryn.

Changed.

Transformed.

The ivory gown caught the chandelier light first, gold Qosantyran-inspired geometry tracing Ivalyn's silhouette like sacred architecture. Structured, deliberate, sovereign. The fleur-de-lis ring glinted as her fingers tightened gently around her wife's hand.

Beside her, Merryn in midnight sapphire velvet, gold at her neckline catching the light like starlight against deep water. Softer in drape, but no less commanding.

For a heartbeat, they did not move.

They let the room see them.

Then, without announcement, Ivalyn tilted her head slightly toward Merryn.

A private signal.

And they stepped forward.

Not walking.

Dancing.

Subtle at first, a synchronized glide, shoulders aligned, fingers intertwined. The music swelled, and so did the crowd's applause, laughter, cheers rising to meet the beat.

They moved through the floral arch like sovereigns entering a coronation hall.

But they were smiling.

Laughing softly to one another.

Ivalyn's controlled composure softened just enough at the edges. Merryn's fingers brushed along the gold embroidery at Ivalyn's waist as they turned in unison, skirts moving like water across polished marble.

The chandeliers reflected off the floor in a halo beneath them.

This was not spectacle.

This was statement.

When they reached the center of the room — the gold circle inlaid in the marble — the music hit its peak. Ivalyn drew Merryn in closer, one arm at her waist, the other hand lifting just enough to spin her beneath the chandelier's cascade of light.

Applause thundered.

Somewhere near the back, someone whistled.

They didn't look at the crowd.

They looked at each other.

And in that moment, beneath crystal and gold, beneath city skyline and candlelight, they were not Grand Vizier and executive, not political powerhouses, not dynastic architects.

They were newlyweds.

Mrs. Ivalyn & Merryn Yvarro-Sellek

Though those closes would ever know the truth of their names.

The music continued as they began their first dance properly, slower now, laughter softening into something reverent.

The dynasty had arrived.

And it arrived with joy.

​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aselia Verd | Open
Wearing: [X]

Aselia mentioned needing Adelle to be more distracting than she was if the Verd was to wear a dress like that and Adelle had to roll her eyes. Her mismatched eyes and facial scars were certainly distracting, but not in the way that people really wanted to look at them. More in the way that they couldn’t look away. Most people, anyways. But Adelle wasn’t counting the Mandalorians—scars were a given among them.

Aselia’s bright blue eyes met hers after Adelle paid her the compliment and held her gaze for what felt like minutes instead of the seconds it really was. Relief flooded her when Aselia asked about the drink in her hand.

“‘The Long Goodbye’,” she said, holding up the glass slightly so that the light caught it. “Very strong so I will be pacing myself.”

The lights dimmed and the DJ announced the arrival of the wedding party and the brides themselves. Adelle watched with interested curiosity at the procession, a pairing or solo member dancing their way down an aisle formed by guests before the brides themselves showed. Gilt embroidery accented the hems of both dresses, ivory and sapphire, complimentary to the colors of the decor. That had to be planned. Idly Adelle wondered how much had been spent on just one of those dresses.

Probably enough to make her head spin.

What would Na’an have thought of all this?

Adelle stared at nothing, over the heads of guests and wedding party alike. Every time. Every time she thought she was done grieving, something reminded her of them.

A small furry body twined itself around her ankles and she heard a soft mew from the floor below the music. Adelle crouched down, mindful that she was in a dress, and picked up the spukami one-handed. She watched the dance settle into something more measured, but opted not to put her full attention on the brides and how they looked at each other.

Phantom leaned up to nuzzle her jaw.

Adelle at least had people now, and that was enough.

 

[Aselia Verd]

Wearing: [X]

The lights softened across the hall as the DJ shifted the music, the first notes rising gently before swelling into something celebratory and full. Aselia returned from the bar just as the wedding party began their entrance, a glass of deep crimson Jawa Punch in her hand, condensation sliding slowly down the side.

She slowed when she reached Adelle's side.

At first glance it looked like simple observation, like any guard habitually watching a room. But this was different. Adelle wasn't tracking movement. She wasn't evaluating guests or exits. Her gaze had drifted somewhere distant, unfocused in a way that didn't match the rhythm of the reception.

Aselia didn't speak immediately. She stood beside her instead, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed, close enough to be present without crowding. The music swelled, laughter rippled through the guests, and the scent of flowers and liquor hung warm in the air.

When Phantom wound around Adelle's ankles and she crouched to lift the spukami, Aselia shifted slightly to shield her from casual view, turning her body just enough to create a small pocket of space in the middle of the celebration.

"You stepped out of the room for a minute" she said quietly, her tone measured and calm rather than probing.

Her eyes lingered on Adelle's face, not pressing, simply acknowledging what she saw.

"You ok?" she added, it wasn't platitude, it was a genuine question. Aselia lifted her glass slightly. She took a sip from the Jawa Punch, it bit hard and burned, but the good kind of burn. Her free hand came to rest briefly at the small of Adelle's back, steady and grounding, the touch warm and intentional.

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
​

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Kurayami settled into a chair at a table on the side of the room. He removed his helmet finally and set it on the table as he looked around, scanning the ever growing crowd as he sipped from his flask. While the others focused on their conversations, he was content to watch and wait for the arrival of the brides and their retinue.

The conversations and the muted murmurs and laughing always brought a smile to the Corellian's face as he listened to the goings on, not concentrating on the words. This wasn't intel gathering right now anyways, this was a wedding and hearing the others gathered enjoy themselves so thoroughly was always something that reminded him that not everything had to be serious.

Even had the atmosphere of the place not reminded him of such, just watching the people would have, Aselia Verd and Adelle Bastiel and the way which they interacted showed a shared familiarity, and perhaps something deeper. Kinship?

Ryssa Yvarro made her appearance and approached Judah Dashiell with purpose. Well it would seem that they were having quite the enthralling conversation.

And then came the announcement. It was time for the brides and the bridal party to to make their entrance. It was quite the spectacle to watch everyone as they danced into the reception. Should any at the reception look over at the Corellian as he watched them, they would notice a small smile playing over his features, a genuine one that widened when Ivalyn Yvarro and her bride made their grand entrance and began their first dance as a married couple.

Tags: Sibylla Abrantes | Aurelian Veruna | Jasper Blackwood | Cyrine Zereth | Viers Connory | Domar | OPEN

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aselia Verd
Wearing: [X]

Adelle leaned into the touch without thinking, muscles that had stiffened slowly relaxing. She blinked, refocusing on the room itself. Aselia’s words finally registered. Adelle looked up at the Verd then back to the dancefloor.

“Sorry, yes,” Adelle said. “Just remembering someone. An old... friend.”

Ice danced in a sea of red in Aselia’s glass. Adelle looked at the drink then gave the woman a sly smile, turning towards her slightly.

“I’m beginning to think you like red or something,” she joked. “What did you order?”

Phantom watched her face for a moment before curling into herself and extending down towards the floor in a fluid motion. Adelle helped ease the transition for the spukami by letting her hand drop a little. She didn’t move away from the hand on her back. It was something solid, something real. And it made the room feel less immense.

“Thank you,” she said softly. "I have a bad habit of getting lost in my memories."

 

[Rowyna Galeway]

​

Captain Rowyna Galeway, and the crew of naval officers arrived to the party somewhere after the Marines but before the Army. The venue at Ambassador Hall was certainly large. Ro had taken the time to change out of her uniform and into something more... free. She looked around the place and grabbed a flute of champagne from off of the tray of a waiter coming by. By the time she had arrived the reception was full swing. Captain Galeway looked over to Cyrine Zereth and around for Jasper Blackwood as she walked through seeking to find the set of tables reserved for the navy. "Here we go." She said with a smirk, noting that some of the military had opted to stay in their uniforms. She shrugged it off and gave a nod to Zereth. "Wonder if Blackwood's around here, should we have dragged him?" She wondered.

Getting a look around the Captain found some guest she hadn't really seen at the ceremony itself. Adelle Bastiel for one, Aselia Verd for another, and certainly not Judah Dashiell or even Sibylla Abrantes or Aurelian Veruna or... Kurayami Bloodborn All she could say was, "seems like the Pasha." A moment lingered, "keeps interesting company."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

For a moment, Aurelian just looked at her. She had given his words back to him. Something in his chest shifted.

"Patriarchs of Great Royal Houses don't elope," he repeated softly, then a faint smile curved his mouth. "Kings do what they want. Or at least this King does."

It was light, but his voice had lost its edge. He reached up, gently stole the towel from her hand, and wiped away the smallest lingering drop at her chin. His thumb brushed her skin after, brief and deliberate.

The speakers crackled. He glanced toward the entrance as the lights dimmed and the bass rolled through the hall. "Come," he murmured, guiding her toward their table, his hand settling on her knee under the table as they sat. He did not remove it.

The doors opened. The wedding party spilled in with laughter and questionable rhythm. Aurelian watched with open amusement as dignified officials attempted enthusiasm. He leaned closer to Sibylla.

"Remind me to never let my security do that in public," he muttered.

Then the brides appeared. Even he straightened at that. They moved like they owned the room. The crowd responded instantly. Aurelian studied the choreography, the timing, the confidence of it. A statement wrapped in celebration.

"That," he said quietly, impressed, "is how you make an entrance."

The music softened as the first dance began. He looked down at Sibylla, eyes warm now. "I am very much looking forward to dancing with you tonight."

​

 

[Ryssa Yvarro]

Somewhere between the wedding party sweeping through the center of the hall, cousins laughing too loudly, military officers loosening their collars as the music shifted from orchestral dignity to something far more celebratory, and the steady swell of bass that now pulsed across the marble floor, Ryssa felt a familiar presence approach.

She turned before he even spoke.

"Mr. Dashiell."

Her smile this time was warmer, less curated. The Rosé caught the chandelier light as she lifted her glass slightly in acknowledgment.

"Thank you," she said, inclining her head with measured grace. "And yes, I am quite pleased with Ivalyn's marriage. The ceremony was beautiful, if somewhat ostentatious in my opinion."

There was the faintest arch of her brow at that, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her affection. Of course it had been extravagant. Ivalyn did nothing by halves. The crystal chandeliers, the floral cascades, the orchestra, the view of Avalonia's skyline framed like a coronation portrait, it had been a declaration, not merely a wedding.

But it had also been sincere.

Ryssa gestured lightly toward a smaller table near the bar, one partially shielded by a column and mercifully removed from the most enthusiastic dancers. "Shall we?" she offered.

The music swelled again playing whatever it was that passed for music... Ryssa had learned to tune it out at this point in her life. Laughter rose from the floor. Champagne corks popped somewhere near the head table.

As they reached the table, Ryssa set her glass down with deliberate elegance, smoothing the fabric of her gown as she took her seat. The candlelight softened the angles of her features, catching in her earrings and along the delicate silver threading at her neckline.

"It has been some time since we last spent time together," she said, folding her hands lightly atop the table. Her tone shifted—less performative now, more genuine. "How are your days, Mr. Dashiell?"



Judah Dashiell

 

[Aselia Verd]

Wearing: [X]

Aselia felt the way Adelle leaned into her before she fully registered it, the subtle shift in weight and tension easing beneath her hand. She didn't comment on it, but her thumb moved once, barely perceptible, against the fabric at the small of Adelle's back in quiet acknowledgment.

When Adelle apologized and mentioned an old friend, Aselia inclined her head slightly. She did not press for a name.

"Nothing to apologize for" she said. "We don't choose when memories show up."

At the comment about red, her mouth curved faintly.

"You're only just beginning to think that?" she asked, glancing down at the glass in her hand. The deep crimson liquid caught the low light, ice shifting softly as she tilted it. "Jawa Punch. Not fruity, has enough bite to make it worth drinking."

She took a slow sip and then angled the glass slightly toward Adelle.

"I do tend to favor red" she admitted.

Her eyes flicked briefly toward the dance floor, where the brides were now moving in slow, measured steps, and then returned to Adelle. Phantom's fluid movement to the floor drew a small, glance.

When Adelle thanked her, voice soft and unguarded, Aselia's expression shifted not dramatic, but gentler around the edges.

"There are worse habits" she replied. "Whatever it was, it means it mattered to you.."

She let her hand remain where it was. The music swelled again as guests began to filter toward the floor, laughter rising in waves.

"If it ever feels like too much" she added quietly, "we can step outside. Or you can make me dance and distract yourself properly."

There was the faintest hint of challenge in her eyes again, but it was warmer now.

"Your choice."

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aselia Verd
Wearing: [X]

Adelle raised her eyebrows. The offer surprised her. Adelle didn’t know Aselia all that well: mostly she knew her by reputation. The Mand’alor’s right hand woman, and his sister. Someone who was intimidating even without that familial connection.

More than that, she could dance? That, along with the glint of something daring in her eyes, brought Adelle’s attention fully back to the present.

“Do you have any idea,” Adelle started, “how long I’ve looked in my own clan for someone that knew how to dance? I swear they all have left feet. I may take you up on that later.”

She looked down at her drink. “Probably after this and some food. I have no intentions of getting wasted here.”

“Although.” Adelle nodded her head at Aselia’s drink. “I’ll probably end up trying that later.”

 

[Viers Connory]

//: Lucette Raaf //:

Viers let her eyes wander over the decor. She never imagined herself in a place like this, to see such beauty and elegance. Growing up, she was often in the middle of fights and the forests of different planets. Viers was used to being covered in dirt and other messes, but tonight she was clean. Dressed in whatever Lucy had thought fitting.

The Corellian fit in, for once.

It was calming, feeling the weight of Lucy's arm wrapped around hers. To feel the girl lean into her as they walked, their steps in tandem. It was then that Lucy spoke, and Viers hummed in response, listening to the girl's concerns about the conversation they had during the ceremony.

In a rare moment, Viers stopped walking and turned her attention wholly to the brunette on her arm.

"Yes." Viers nodded, adding a bit of emphasis. "I'm very serious and I meant every word."

There was no doubt in her voice, as its cadence was severely different from the aloof monk who found life to be a game. When it came to Lucy, it wasn't a game.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you — however long it is." Almost as if on instinct, Viers brought her hand gently to Lucy's cheek, letting her thumb caress the softness of it.

"The time we've spent apart was horrible; life wasn't as bright and beautiful as it always was with you. I don't want to live through that again… I don't want you to wonder where I am or worry about me. I just want to be with you always."

Her eyes dropped for just a moment, focusing on the bow of Lucette's lips, a thumb trailed gently just under the curve of her bottom lip, and Viers' eyes returned, meeting Lucy's emerald gaze.

Viers lowered her voice as her hand found Lucy's hip. She stepped closer, keeping the words between them. She was careful, but also didn't care… this was their moment to share.

"I love you… more than anything, Lucette…"

Before the girl could respond, Viers lowered her head and leaned in. Her lips brushed gently against the Dosuunian girl's. Viers waited for a reaction and leaned further into the kiss, pulling Lucy close, wanting to feel her weight against her again, as when they were walking.

Their time apart, finding her again, and the ceremony — all of it made Viers realize how important and irreplaceable Lucy was to her.

Viers wanted to give everything of herself, of her future, and to be better for Lucy.

 

[Aiden Porte]

Judah Dashiell​

Aiden offered Judah a small acknowledgment, a calm dip of his head that carried quiet respect without calling attention to them. His posture remained easy, one hand resting lightly around his glass as the reception murmured on around them.

"Take your time, my friend," Aiden said softly, warmth steady in his voice.

He gave a faint, reassuring smile, then let his gaze drift back across the garden and the gathering guests, patient and composed.

Thread Exit​