Faction Capital Letters [DCN + Friends]

[Judah Dashiell]

"A little large but it seemed to fit them both perfectly." Judah conceded, part of him knowing the wedding was more for the Commonwealth than the pair on some level. A message of stability for the citizens, more or less. "It's nice to see them happy."

With a nod, he followed her to the quieter part of the venue. Champagne was flowing and laughter echoed throughout the space. That part of any wedding were things got a little more loose and free. Give it another hour and anyone under the age of thirty would be out gyrating on the dance floor to music that played during their teen years.

Assisting Ryssa Yvarro with her chair, he finally sat across from her, drowning out what was going around them.

"It has been some time. Too long. Life has a habit of getting in the way." Hand fiddled with his lowball glass as they spoke, the green liquid nearly gone at this point. "My days are much the same. Wrangling two hard headed sons. Grandchildren. The business. I can't say anything terribly exciting has occurred."

He paused before directing the same question back to the woman in front of him.

"And you Miss Yvarro, how have you been occupying your days?"

 

[Aselia Verd]

Wearing: [X]

Aselia gave a small laugh at Adelles suprise at her being able to dance. "I grew up around too many diplomats and corporate types to not have that skill. Just not one I don't use a lot."

Aselia's gaze followed the servers weaving through the crowd with trays of food, and she nodded once in agreement.

"Food first" she said easily. "I'd rather remember the dancing."

There was a faint curve at the corner of her mouth when she glanced back at Adelle.

"Food first is a wise move" she agreed without hesitation. "I've seen too many underestimate an open bar on an empty stomach."

She shifted her weight, angling them toward the tables without crowding her, letting her hand fall naturally from Adelle's back as they started walking. The reception hall was loud with celebration now, guests laughing, glasses clinking, the newlyweds surrounded by well-wishers. Aselia guided them toward a quieter edge of the room where a small table sat near the open arches overlooking the city lights.

"We'll call it dinner" she said, "Then you can decide if I'm worth that dance." Aselia looked back at Adelle with a mischievous smile.

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
​

 

[Ryssa Yvarro]

"It is," Ryssa said with a smile looking toward her niece, and the newest member of the family Merryn. She was seated across from Mr. Dashiell now as dancing and general merriment were had. There she continued to nurse her drink, listening to Mr. Dashiell as he spoke. "Indeed, but such is the nature of life, always busy with one thing or another."

"Grandchildren, how delightful." She smiled warmly, "congratulations, what a joy they must be." A brief pause as she let the gentleman speak, "suppose that is always good, given that excitement in our work tends to not be nearly as delightful as some might insinuate."

"My days are much the same, sans the grandchildren, but my son has finally gotten settled within the Merchant Marines." Ryssa said with relief. "My other niece, there, Josephine." She pointed toward a blonde woman in a green gown. "Has been encouraging me to delegate more, although I do not see as to why I should do so now."

"Perhaps when the music allows, would you be interested in a dance?"

Judah Dashiell

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aselia Verd

Adelle moved towards the tables as Aselia did, the air on the small of her back now cool from the absence of the Verd’s hand. She followed to the edge of the arranged tables, where the music dimmed and the roar of multiple conversations dulled.

Her mismatched eyes sparkled as she took a drink from her glass and leaned forward.

“You underestimate what I’d do for a dance,” she said, giving Aselia a roguish smirk of her own. “Although based on what I’ve already seen of this place, the dinner’s sure to impress me. I didn’t grow up around diplomats or corporate types so I lack a—what did they call it?—refined palate.”

Granted, she couldn’t remember growing up but that was neither here nor there.

One of the staff approached, the uniform crisp, clean, the edges and creases almost too sharp. They placed their orders, Adelle opting to try the lamb option. Phantom settled under her chair, tail curled around her feet.

“So,” Adelle said, setting her glass down gently. “Clan Verd is that well-connected?”

Admittedly, she’d come from a Jedi order on a backwater planet with semi-regular missions to Corellia and had been swamped trying to learn about her own clan. She ought to learn more about the clan she was following.

 

[Lucette Raaf]

Viers Connory​

Lucy had been raised to be many things, polite, composed, knowing when and where to smile, when to wave. But this? There had been nothing to prepare her for this.

For Viers.

And perhaps that had always been the best thing about Viers.

As the music swelled around them, the room may as well have stilled. The chandeliers glittered overhead, guests shifted and murmured, but none of it reached her.

Viers had said it.

She had gone and bloody well said it, hadn't she?

I love you.

Not playfully. Not in that teasing, clever way she so often did. Not as a joke.

This had been different.

Lucy swallowed hard, her heart racing faster than her thoughts could catch up. Everything seemed to move at the speed of light while simultaneously standing completely still. Heat rose behind her ears as adrenaline pulsed through her, this was not rehearsed, not calculated.

It was sincere.

Sacred.

Irrevocable.

Something within Lucy shifted.

The chandeliers blurred from view. The skyline beyond the tall windows softened into distant light. The noise of the reception dulled into something far away and irrelevant. Her pulse thudded in her ears as she felt Viers' thumb brush beneath her lip, the warmth of her hand, the closeness between them.

And without hesitation, without a single conscious thought, their lips met.

Lucy did not freeze.

She inhaled.

A quiet, sharp breath through her nose, not shock, but certainty. Her hand rose instinctively to Viers' face, cupping her cheek as she leaned in. Not desperately. Not urgently.

But with intention.

She deepened the kiss gently, controlled but undeniably present, allowing herself to fall into the closeness, into Viers.

When she finally drew back, it was not abrupt.

Her forehead rested briefly against Viers'.

"If you are offering me a lifetime, Viers…" Her voice was softer now, steadier. Her thumb traced once along Viers' jaw as her hazel eyes held firm. "Then understand that I accept it. Fully. That I accept you, unconditionally."

Her hands settled at Viers' hips, steadying her, grounding them both, tightening slightly at the waist.

"I promise you will never," she leaned in once more, brushing her lips lightly against Viers' again, "be alone. Not while I draw breath."

A moment passed, suspended, intimate.

Then Lucy drew back just enough to offer a wide, luminous smile, rare and entirely genuine.

"However," she added, tone shifting gently toward levity, "you will still have to endure my cousins at every holiday."

 

[Aselia Verd]

Wearing: [X]

Aselia walked along side Adelle to the table before taking the seat across from her and settled into it. She took another, longer drink from her glass. "You enjoy dancing that much?" a soft chuckle escaped her lips.

"Well who am I to deny you." When she mentioned a refined palette Aselia laughed, warm and relaxed. "Im mandalorian first and foremost, I eat whats available but I do enjoy nice food every now and then."

When Adelle posited the queston about how well connected Clan Verd is she tilted her head slightly. "I guess you may not know too much about our origins. My adoptive father is Isley Verd." she took another long drink from her glass.

"Isley being a Sith Lord, Former Mand'alor as well as owning multiple businesses? You could say yes. Very well connected." when the server arrived, she also ordered the lamb.

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
​

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Ryssa Yvarro​

"Thank you. A joy but also a handful."

No exaggeration there. Both his grandchildren had strong personalities, which he found delightful. It was great to see a new generation starting to learn and grow. A testament to the hard work he had started when he was a young man, Judah enjoyed seeing the fruits of his labor all these years later in life.

"Merchant Marines? Congratulations. I'm sure he will perform splendidly." Judah assumed such a position was internal with the Commonwealth. "Delegation is highly overrated."

At the mention of a dance, he paused to listen to the music in the background, designed for the younger among them in attendance. A very typical wedding theme, judging from ones he had been to. After all, it was about the couple, not someone's grandparents trying to get on the dance floor to do a slow waltz.

"Why wait for the music to change?" Standing, Judah offered his hand. "May I have this dance Miss Yvarro?"

 

[Viers Connory]

//: Lucette Raaf //:

Viers smiled against the kiss. It was hard not to; everything that she was feeling swelled and deepened as the moment was shared. To know that she wouldn't be alone, and could share the rest of her life with someone who meant everything to her. The kiss broke, and Viers did her best to chase. She wanted to keep feeling this moment as long as she could.
She paused, letting Lucy speak. Her words were everything she wanted to hear. Viers felt as if she was floating, with only Lucy's forehead as a place to ground her.

While the Monk had a very limited understanding of the weight of her words, she believed in them wholeheartedly. She wanted whatever she promised Lucy. Her words were honest and full of what she felt.

Tilting her head, she relished in the gentleness of the Dosuunian girl's touch. Briefly remembering the lonely nights on Jutrand when the wall kept them apart. She remembered the desperation in her letters, and when nothing came back, her heart only cracked further. Despite all of that, Viers believed that Lucy, wherever she was, still cared. That Lucy still thought of her as often as she did.

No one held a candle to Lucy in Viers's eyes; no one ever understood her like she did.

"I love you," she said it again, the same reverence as before, but softer as if it was a secret between them.

Her little smile widened at the mention of Lucette's cousins. The thought of forever harassing Kai for his extra special dessert made this confession and promise even sweeter.

"Mm, two desserts every family dinner…" She murmured, her mind trailing towards her other love… food.

Despite the daydream, there was something that pulled her back. The touch against her cheek, the weight of Lucy leaning into her, all of it sparked something deep within the Corellian. What she felt before as they shared a kiss was like a drug. It was something she had never felt before, but it was wonderful. Hands cupped Lucy's face again as their lips touched, the depth of the prior kiss almost continuing as if they didn't part to breathe.

If breathing was a necessity, Viers wanted no part of it; all she wanted was this feeling. Though she paused, pulling her face just inches away from Lucy's. They were public, there were others, and they were here to celebrate Lucy's aunt… or cousin… Viers couldn't understand the bush of a family tree.

She didn't want to draw attention to them. Stepping back, her hand grasped Lucy's as she moved away from the more public space of the reception. Remembering some of the reception building's vantage points, she quietly moved, saying little.

Viers didn't care if others looked, wondering where the pair was going. Everything that fueled her was the feelings she harbored for the brunette she dragged behind her and her youth. Daring and fervent youth.

A dimly lit hallway where no one seemed to pay too much attention to it. Viers ducked into the hallway and pulled Lucy along with her. They were finally alone, and upon instinct, she gently pressed Lucy against the wall and stared, not really knowing what to do next.

She could feel every ounce of emotion bubbling to the surface, but her mouth was dry and words stuck to the back of her throat.

"I-" She paused. "My life is yours, all of it, everything is yours." She nodded; whatever was driving her further made her lean into another kiss. Just like before, but always sweeter. It didn't last as long as her kisses trailed, daringly to Lucette's jaw and down the curve of her neck.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aselia Verd
Wearing: [X]

Adelle smiled when Aselia chuckled and asked if she liked dancing that much before conceding with “Well who am I to deny you?”

“It’s been a passion for nearly as long as I can remember,” Adelle said. She didn’t explain that she could only remember the last ten years of her life. She quieted as Aselia explained that her adoptive father, Isley Verd, was well-connected.

Kriff. Isley.

Did Aselia know?

It had been several months since the fateful bar fight Adelle had accelerated, since she caught the Mand’alor’s eye without knowing who he was. She could still see the bounty puck with Isley’s face displayed, the dossier flicking through, the list of aliases and crimes. It had been in the back of her mind since then but she hadn’t started the hunt for him in earnest just yet—there’d been too much going on and there was still a lot going on in her personal life.

But she still had the puck.

Adelle kept herself composed, taking a drink as Aselia explained Isley’s leadership and ownership of several businesses kept them well-connected. Small wonder then that credits were no issue for the Verds. She tried to line up the mental image of a Mandalorian leader and businessman with the void of Darkness she’d felt on Monastery. And failed.

Still, it made sense how Aether was able to offer up enough credits for a waterside estate on Naboo.

“What was it like, growing up with him?” she asked. “Did you have to navigate all those connections early on?”

That was a safer path she could take the conversation without it feeling forced. That and the way Aselia spoke made him seem like a good father. Adelle laced her fingers together, wondering if a Sith lord could achieve that. The possibility Isley had done so started to agitate old memories of her own father.

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Aurelian Veruna

Something passed between them then.

It was in those quiet few heartbeats, even as the music began to swell around them. A knowing perhaps? One that Sibylla felt even as the warmth of his thumb gently brushed along her chin. The act was brief, but the weight it conveyed wasn't.

By the time they sat at their table, the rich tablecloth hid the way Aurelian's hand had neatly swept to rest over her knee under the table. That was something she was learning about him. Touch. He seemed to adore being able to touch her, and he sought it instinctively as though reassurance could be measured in proximity. A hand at her back. Fingers brushing hers. The subtle tether of his palm against her, as if confirming she was still there and not some apparition conjured by necessity.

And Shiraya help her, she liked it.

She liked the certainty of it, the warmth, the way his thumb would sometimes shift almost absently, betraying that for all his theatrics and rakish charm, he was as aware of her as she was of him. It made her wonder more often than naught, how much he had restrained himself before. All that talk of proximity and being professional.

Much like when she enjoyed raking her own fingers through his hair, he enjoyed touching her hand.

But liking it and navigating it were two very different matters.

They were diplomats elected into their positions as King and Voice. Figures that were observed from every conceivable angle, where every glance was dissected and every gesture interpreted.

Which meant that even if they were half a galaxy away from Naboo, and even though the tablecloth granted them a measure of concealment, it did not grant them freedom.

So this was their dance of restraint -- smiling serenely at foreign dignitaries while beneath the table her pulse betrayed her. Maintaining the crisp distance expected of political allies while his touch quietly undid her.

Annoying, truly.

Because there were moments she wished to turn to him in public without having to look over her shoulder. To be able to rest her hand openly over his and let the galaxy make of it what it would.

But instead beneath the linen, Sibylla allowed her fingers to curl just slightly over his.

The roar of the brides coming in drew her attention, and even she couldn't help but smile broadly and soften her expression into amusement.

"Is that so?" Sibylla commented wryly about how one makes an entrance; she brought her hand up to rest her chin on the palm of her hand, elbow on the table. Everyone seemed to be paying attention to the brides and she took advantage by adding, "Dancing?"

A brow perked, and the corner of her mouth twisted with dangerous sweetness.

"Are you quite certain?" she asked, voice lowering just enough to be heard only by him. "Adelle once confided that you must count your steps aloud to avoid calamity."

And here it was, that challenging glint in her hazel eyes.

"For all the infamy of the Prince of Parrlay's celebrations," she continued, lips twitching, "I am beginning to suspect that your hips are not nearly so persuasive as your reputation suggests."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Location: These hips don't lie.
Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

"Yes," Aurelian answered easily, eyes still on the brides as they turned beneath the chandeliers. "Dancing." Then her next words registered. He turned his head sharply. "Adelle said what?"

For a split second he considered denying it outright. Inventing something clever. But the look in her hazel eyes stopped him cold. That glint. That challenge. Shiraya, she was beautiful when she thought she had him cornered.

He leaned back in his chair, studying her instead of the dance floor now. "I am quite certain," he said calmly. A faint scoff left him. "Adelle shouldn't be gossiping about me. I will be having a word." His hand remained steady on her knee, thumb tracing a slow, absent line as if to prove he was unbothered. He was, in fact, extremely bothered.

"Just because I did not pay attention during formal lessons does not mean I don't know how to dance," he corrected. He looked away briefly, jaw tightening in mock offense.

"You will see," he added. Then his gaze slid back to hers, slower this time. "In all the ways that are important, my hips are very persuasive." There. Let her recover from that.

His thumb pressed slightly, grounding himself before he smirked. "I suspect you might have trouble keeping up." The music swelled again as the brides spun, laughter echoing through the hall. "I imagine Abrantes dancing is rigid," he went on lightly. "Measured. Boring. Like your older brother's personality."

He tilted his head. "Is that what you were trained for? Perfect posture and polite rotations?" His eyes dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes. "I do not dance politely, Sibylla."

He smiled. "When the floor opens, you're mine."

​

 

[Ryssa Yvarro]

Ryssa gave Mr. Dashiell a warm, knowing smile, the candlelight softening the edges of her otherwise composed expression.

"Delegation is certainly overrated," she said dryly, lifting her glass just slightly before setting it back down. "But it does give my son somewhere to put his energy."

There was quiet affection in her voice when she spoke of Raqo, measured, restrained, but present. His Merchant Marine commission kept him disciplined, purposeful. It kept him busy. And, more importantly, it kept him from finding trouble of his own making. For that alone, she was grateful.

"Honorable work," she added after a beat. "And demanding enough that he doesn't have time to imagine he could run Primo Victorian better than I can."

A subtle arch of her brow accompanied the remark.

Her thoughts drifted briefly, uncharacteristically so, to the future. Grandchildren, perhaps. Someday. For now, the hall was filled with grand-nieces and nephews racing between tables in miniature formalwear, and that seemed sufficient.

The music shifted.

The DJ station, once discreet and dignified, surrendered to something far less restrained. The strings faded, replaced by a pulsing rhythm and layered percussion. The brass section returned—but sharper now, faster, less nostalgic and more… contemporary.

"Oh," Ryssa began, glancing toward the dance floor as younger guests cheered and surged forward. "Well, I suppose…" A faint, almost amused uncertainty crossed her features. "I am hardly familiar with the sort of music my niece listens to."

She hesitated only a fraction of a second when Judah extended his hand.

His invitation was simple. Not theatrical. Not commanding.

Just offered.

Ryssa looked at his hand, then at him, the ghost of a smile forming.

"You may," she said softly.

Her fingers slipped into his, cool at first from the stem of her glass. His hand was steady, firm, but not possessive. She rose gracefully to her feet, smoothing the silk of her gown with her free hand as she stepped away from the small table.

The dance floor gleamed beneath the chandeliers, marble reflecting light and movement in fractured brilliance. Officers and cousins alike had abandoned decorum for the moment, laughter rising in bright bursts above the rhythm.

Ryssa allowed herself to be led into the current.

She had not done this, simply followed, in a very long time.

Her posture remained impeccable, spine straight, chin lifted, but there was a lightness in her step that had not been there earlier in the evening. The music thumped through the floor, through the room, through the air heavy with citrus oil and champagne.

As they reached the center of the floor, she tilted her head slightly toward him.

"If I embarrass myself," she said, voice low but amused, "I shall blame you entirely."

But there was no steel behind the threat.

Only the faintest spark of anticipation.

Judah Dashiell

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Location: So my toes are in peril!
Aurelian Veruna

"Here I thought you rather enjoyed being the talk of the town," Sibylla returned lightly, lowering her hand from her chin to signal a passing attendant. The last drink had met an untimely end, and she required both replacement and distraction.

It also gave her a moment to disguise the bloom of pink warming her cheeks in response to the slow, hooded deliberation of his gaze as it lingered over her. She steadfastly refused to acknowledge the scandalous little visions her treacherous imagination began sketching at the mention of just how persuasive those hips might be.

"A Nahutal Sunset, please," she said smoothly, even as she felt Auyrelian's thumb trace a slow line over her knee beneath the shelter of the tablecloth. Her breath nearly faltered yet she refused to allow it.

Mercifully, the attendant withdrew before she had to maintain composure much longer. Sibylla turned back toward the utterly incorrigible King just in time to hear his outrageous assessment of her dancing. She blinked slowly, pursing her lips slightly in something suspended between disbelief and challenge. She tilted her head slightly, studying him with deliberate thoughtfulness and feigned mock suspicion.

"You know, you speak of Cassian with remarkable frequency," Sibylla observed softly with an amused tone, "I am beginning to suspect the emotion in question is not dislike at all. Should I be concerned?" She gave a delicate pause for her own version of theatrics.

"It would be dreadfully inconvenient if this rivalry transformed into one of those dramatic literary tropes. Enemies to lovers, perhaps?"

Sibylla held his gaze as hazel settled upon rich amber, determined to reclaim ground even as his eyes dipped briefly toward her mouth.

"You presume I would struggle to keep up?"

The music swelled, laughter echoing around them, chandeliers scattering gold across polished floors. She leaned a fraction closer, lowering her voice just enough to be his alone.

"When the floor opens, Your Majesty," Sibylla replied, poised and dangerous all at once, "I do hope you are prepared to defend such confidence."

Beneath the table, her fingers curled faintly over his hand.

Oh yes, let him consider that his warning.

"Though I hesitate to describe your technique as professional, particularly in light of Adelle's… illuminating commentary."

 

[Aurelian Veruna]

Tags: Sibylla Abrantes

Aurelian watched the color rise in her cheeks as she ordered another drink, and he felt the quiet flare of victory. There it is. But the triumph lasted all of five seconds. He stared at her, dumbfounded, when she suggested he and Cassian were part of some tragic literary trope. "Enemies to lovers?" he repeated, genuinely dumbfounded.

Absolutely not. Kenari alone had buried that fantasy six feet under. There was no secret longing there. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head slowly. "There is not a single fiber in my being that will ever enjoy that man," he muttered. "You need not fear a dramatic confession."

Still, as the music swelled around them, he found himself mulling over something else. She had softened him. That was the truth of it. He used to enjoy being sharper, colder. With her, he found himself… considerate. He shuddered internally. Dangerous territory.

Then she leaned closer, challenging him again, and the spark returned instantly. His face lit up. "I do presume you would struggle to keep up," he shot back without hesitation. Her proximity was distracting. The warmth of her fingers curling over his hand under the table grounded him and unbalanced him at the same time.

"I don't imagine any technique of mine is professional, my lady," he added, voice lowering. His hand gave her leg a slow, deliberate squeeze. He held her gaze. "You should stop listening to Adelle and find out for yourself." He was more than willing to abandon diplomacy in favor of something far less proper.

A slow grin spread across his face. "I do enjoy being the talk of every town," he admitted. "And I would very much enjoy giving these Commonwealth dignitaries something... more worthwhile to whisper about."

His hand slid just a fraction further. "They already think I'm reckless. Imagine their horror if I proved them right."

He leaned in just enough that his shoulder brushed hers. "Besides," he murmured, eyes dropping briefly to her lips before returning to her gaze, "if I have indeed lost my edge, I suspect it is because I have been distracted."

He smiled. "Terribly distracted." The music shifted, signaling the dance floor would open soon. He straightened slightly, composure sliding back into place for the room, though the heat between them remained.

"When that floor opens," he said quietly, "I intend to ruin your reputation for rigid Abrantes composure." His smile softened just a fraction. "And I suspect you intend to try the same."

​

 

[Aselia Verd]

Wearing: [X]

Aselia noticed the carefulness in the question. It wasn't intrusive, but it wasn't casual either. Adelle's fingers laced together as she spoke, posture composed, expression open but deliberate. Aselia let the moment breathe instead of answering too quickly.

"He wasn't buried in daily corporate work," she began, leaning back slightly in her chair. "He owns things. Invests. Has people who handle the machinery. He never sat at a desk micromanaging supply chains or running endless meetings."

Her gaze drifted briefly across the reception hall before returning to Adelle.

"The business connections were always there, but they weren't constant. You knew certain doors opened because of his name. You knew networks existed. But he didn't drag us into boardrooms to parade us around. If we were present at something formal, it was because he wanted us to understand what was at stake, not because he was grooming us for quarterly earnings."

She took a slow sip from her glass before continuing.

"He raised us as warriors first. Clan before credits. If he involved us in negotiations, it was to teach us about leverage, responsibility, and the weight of decisions. To him, business was another kind of battlefield. Different weapons, same principles."

There was no reverence in her tone, only steadiness.

"He was demanding, but not hovering. If we failed, we fixed it. If we succeeded, we didn't linger on it. Carry yourself properly because you're a Verd, not because someone is watching."

Her eyes settled on Adelle again, thoughtful but not guarded.

"We didn't navigate those connections every day. We just grew up knowing the web existed and that one day we'd be expected to move through it without getting caught in it."

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
​

 

[Sibylla Abrantes]

​

Aurelian Veruna

Oh.

Why was it that it had to be at that very moment that Sibylla's mind went straight to a particular heated scene in 'Taming the Devaronian Devil'.

Do not let your mind wander, Sibylla.

That was what she had to tell herself as the precise pressure of Aurelian's fingers sent a sharp spark racing up her spine, and she found herself staring at him with parted lips in equal parts disbelief and something far more dangerous stirring beneath it. For a heartbeat she simply looked at him, as if she had been caught off guard by the sudden shift in their proverbial battlefield.

Thankfully, her elbow was already resting on the table. It allowed her to lift her hand and hover her fingers lightly near her mouth in a gesture she intended to pass for thoughtful composure even as she attempted to gather the scattered fragments of it.

Reckless. Dangerous....and entirely intent on dismantling her carefully cultivated Abrantes composure.

Ah... so that was the game he intended to play.

Alright. We shall play.

Maybe it was a good thing her fingers were close to her lips, because they masked the quiet provocation that slipped between them just low enough for him to hear. Heat rose to her cheeks, but she met his eyes as if daring him to respond.

"Is that all you intend to ruin?"

Luckily, or perhaps not, the attendant chose that precise moment to arrive with her drink.

"Thank you," Sibylla murmured, glancing up as the glass was placed before her. She wrapped her fingers around it and took a small sip. Oh there it was again, that delicious, sweet, and sneaky concoction meant to give her liquid courage and enjoy the festivities.

Rein it in, Sibylla, she told herself. It was a very sensible instruction.

An instruction she might have followed more easily had her imagination not already betrayed her -- wandering shamelessly through scenes suspiciously reminiscent of the scandalous passages found in Lady Velvet's novels. Books she had once insisted were purely exaggerated fiction.

Now, however…

She was beginning to suspect the author might have known a thing or two. If she only knew that said author was Lady Corazona von Ascania !

"Well...if you ruin my reputation for rigid Abrantes composure," Sibylla said quietly, "I expect you to do it properly."

A small, challenging smile touched her lips.

"I would hate for all this dramatic buildup to result in disappointing footwork."

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aselia Verd

There was a brief moment before Aselia began to talk about Isley and Adelle wondered if it was consideration of words or something else. The picture the redhead painted added a new dimension to the man, someone that easily fit the definition of ‘legend.’ A man of many businesses but never consumed by them. Smart, delegated to skilled handlers, and never placed the burden of expectation to run those businesses on his kids. Education and preparation, but never the weight of following his footsteps.

Adelle took a drink from her glass as Aselia’s blue-eyed gaze fell back on her.

“Sounds like a buir most people in your position don’t get the luxury to have,” she said, respectfully. Hells, her own father hadn’t nearly been as conscientious, although she couldn’t remember what he might have been like before her accident. “He sounds considerate.”

Isley, the Sith lord that had traveled to a Jedi world in desperate need of healing, but unwilling to trouble the resident Jedi.

Isley, Mand’alor the Reclaimer, Vicelord of a Confederacy. Ruler twice over, Mandalorian and Sith.

Isley Verd, the current Mand'alor's and Aselia’s father. A man that readied his children for the world he lived in but let them choose their own paths.

“Did he teach you to dance?” she asked. Somehow the idea of the Sith lord she’d met dancing wasn’t entirely impossible to imagine. He had been perfectly reasonable and even pleasant, as far as Sith went, when she’d healed him.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Leading Ryssa Yvarro to a quieter part of the dance floor, he would keep it simple with a sweeping box step style dance. Slow, easy to follow, and had the least chance to embarrassing anyone. Not a spectacular dancer, but he could hold his own and lead. A skill gained from now decades of attending events as the owner of a large corporation.

"You won't embarrass yourself. One, I doubt anyone is watching. Two, just follow my lead and we will both get out unscathed." A small pause ang a genuine smile. "I'm quite used to being blamed, however. In the very unlikely event something does go amiss, I am fully prepared to shoulder the burden for you."

His start was a little slow but soon the movements picked up into something more graceful. Most days now he stood on the sidelines with a drink in one hand, watching the action. It was where he would have stayed if Aiden and Miss Yvarro had not come and burst into his self imposed little bubble for the evening.

"So, what is on the horizon for yourself? I suspect you are busy in the Commonwealth."

 

[Aselia Verd]

Wearing: [X]

For a moment, Aselia didn't answer right away. The question lingered between them while the music drifted through the hall and the slow rhythm of the dance carried them across the floor. Her blue eyes rested on Adelle for a beat longer than usual, the expression in them thoughtful, as though the question had pulled up a memory she hadn't expected to revisit tonight.

A small smile eventually found its way to her lips.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "He did."

She lifted her glass slightly and took a small sip before continuing, the memory sitting comfortably with her. "Not because he cared about dancing itself," she added with a hint of dry amusement. "Because he didn't want his kids looking like idiots at gatherings."

There was a quiet warmth in the way she said it. "He used to say the same things applied as in a fight. Balance. Timing. Knowing where the other person is moving before they do." Her shoulders shifted slightly with the music as they turned together. "Once you figure out how to keep your footing, the rest comes with practice."

Her gaze drifted briefly across the room where other couples moved beneath the lights before settling back on Adelle. "He made sure all of us learned sooner or later. Didn't really matter whether we liked it at first." The smile deepened just a little as she added, "I complained about it for a while."

Aselia let the memory settle naturally before continuing in a more relaxed tone. "But he was patient about it. Never made it into a lecture or a chore. Just… kept at it until we stopped stepping on his boots."

Her eyes held Adelle's again, calm and steady.

"He's good at it," she finished simply. "Better than most people expect. I was his best student," her smile widened a bit as she looked at Adelle.

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Aselia Verd

The more she heard about Isley Verd, the more of an engima he became. Him knowing how to dance and teach his own kids didn’t surprise her but it added another layer to the many images she had. It also told her a lot about Aselia. She spoke of him fondly, even if she’d protested the lessons at first, and boasted about her own skill.

It felt less like two coworkers talking and more like two friends.

“My father taught me too, back before I was sent to my order,” Adelle said. Not that she remembered any of that, thanks to Krayt. “But he sounds more like my old master. He taught me how to dance because I kept messing up my footwork with the forms. And it took me a bit to stop treating those lessons like drills.”

The waitstaff brought the dinner courses out, setting plates filled with quality ingredients prepared by skilled hands in front of them. This probably would have cost her a full day’s salary.

“I’ve kept up with it ever since. It was… nice, having something that wasn’t strictly functional or practical to do. You were always busy in the order but there were moments of downtime. Designated hours of meditation. Could never sit still for them, always fell asleep. But running. Katas. Dancing. I could meditate doing those.”

Adelle ate a bit before continuing. “It’s been next to impossible to find someone in my clan that can dance the classical ballroom styles. I’d just about given up hope and accepted that Mandalorians didn’t do dancing.”

She herself had expanded her dancing horizons after the one time she and Na’an caused trouble at a fancy gathering during a festival. Hutt music, Na’an had said. It had certainly leant itself to different styles from the Outer Rim.

“But, since you offered,” Adelle said, a bit of a challenge in her returned smile, “I am quite curious as to what his best student can do.”

"Do you, by any chance, need to count under your breath?"