Public Celebrating the Angel and the Spacer of Koboh! [Zinder Event]

[Laphisto]

Laphisto looked up as Hilal Vizsla approached, one brow lifting slightly beneath the faint shadow cast by the overhead lights. His head tilted a fraction to the side, studying her with quiet curiosity rather than scrutiny. For perhaps the first time in recent memory, he felt… overdressed. The formal garments, ancient in cut and tradition, sat heavier on him than armor ever had. It drew the faintest crease of a frown to his features before he smoothed it away with practiced composure.

He cleared his throat softly, straightening to his full height. standing from his seat he smiled Stepping forward, he extended one clawed hand toward her, the gesture deliberate and respectful. A small, genuine smile touched his lips. while the other hand grabbed teh back of her seat and pulled it out for her.

"Aye, we can eat I told the waiter to hold until your arrival. It seemed improper to begin without you." as she sat he pushed her chair in before returning to his own side of the table. that is if she accepted the gesture anyways.

"I am High Commander Laphisto Div'atori Gix of the Lilaste Order, And you must be Hilal of House Vizsla. it is a pleasure to dine with another Mandalorian again. outside the cusp of battle." His heterochromatic gaze met hers evenly, one eye green with golden hues around its edges and the other blue with red. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren's breath caught just slightly when he kissed her knuckles, not in surprise, but in the quiet way that comes from being touched with sincerity rather than expectation. For a moment, she simply looked at him, really looked at him, as if weighing every word he had just given her and finding nothing there she wanted to push away.

A faint smile curved her lips, soft and knowing, when he spoke about trust and second chances and not needing his armor with her.

"You know…" she murmured gently, her thumb brushing once over the back of his hand, "I think you've had that without realizing it for a while."

Her gaze stayed on his, steady and warm.

"Someone watching your back," she added quietly. "Someone who isn't waiting for you to slip."

When he offered his hand, she did not hesitate.

Her fingers slid into his with easy familiarity, her grip firm enough to be reassuring without clinging.

"Maybe I am," she said softly, a hint of playful warmth threading through the honesty in her voice.

She rose with him, smoothing her clothing absently before turning slightly so they stood side by side.

"And yes," she continued, meeting his eyes again, "I'd like that."

Her smile deepened just a little as she nodded toward the path ahead.

"Lead on, my lord," she added lightly, clearly teasing now, before leaning closer to him as they began to walk together.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Niijima Izumi]

Izumi's eyes followed him through the crowd, noticing the deliberate weight of his steps and the way his armor caught the lantern light without softening the edge of his presence. He moved like a shadow among the revelers, part of the scene yet entirely separate, as if the laughter and warmth around him belonged to another world.

She remembered a brief encounter from long ago, a meeting so fleeting that the memory had almost faded, yet left a faint trace of recognition. There was something in the tilt of his head, the quiet precision in his movements, that felt familiar, like a rhythm she had once glimpsed but never learned. That small thread drew her attention now, but she did not let it disturb her calm.

It was clear he did not belong here, and perhaps that was the way it should be. She had known men like him, soldiers and warriors who carried the weight of everything they had lost, who believed they were incapable of surrendering to something as fragile as love. She understood that. She also understood the flicker of curiosity in his gaze, the brief moment when the world around him seemed almost real. She did not reach for it. She only observed.

Izumi shifted slightly in the crowd, the folds of her kimono brushing the cobblestones and her earrings catching the soft glow of the lanterns. She moved with purpose, quiet and measured, a figure of calm in the chaos. She did not approach him. She did not call out. She watched, letting the smallest details speak for themselves, letting him remain the careful, solitary figure he had chosen to be.

Perhaps he had noticed her as well. Perhaps the faint memory of that long-ago encounter stirred something in him, even if he would never acknowledge it. There was no warmth, no need for closeness. Still, she could see that even in the coldest of hearts, the smallest glimpse of beauty could be recognized and remembered.
​

Varek Ordo​

 

[Varek Ordo]

Niijima Izumi

Varek's gaze flickered through the crowd, drawn to the soft, steady presence that had been watching him from afar. He couldn't see her clearly, but there was something about the way she moved, the quiet grace that lingered in the spaces between her steps, that struck a chord deep within him. Her movements were purposeful, measured, as though each step had been carefully considered, a quiet certainty in a world that felt anything but.

And yet, there was a familiarity in the way she stood among the chaos, her silhouette half-obscured by the flickering lights, the music, the laughter that swirled through the night. He had seen this rhythm before—the way she carried herself like someone used to waiting, to observing, to measuring. It was the same thread he had felt, years ago, in a fleeting encounter, so brief it had nearly slipped through the cracks of his memory.

But it hadn't. That small thread of recognition pulled at him now, threading through his thoughts, quiet but persistent, like an old song that you can't shake from your mind. There was something in her gaze, a steady presence in the midst of the noise, that made him feel like he had been seen—not for his armor, not for the scars, but for something deeper, something unspoken.

She was watching him, and yet, it wasn't the kind of observation that felt like a challenge, or even an invitation. It was simply a recognition of the space he occupied, a quiet acknowledgment from someone who understood that sometimes, it was better to stay apart. To keep your distance.

His chest tightened just slightly as he caught a glimpse of her earrings, the way they caught the lantern light, shining softly against the shadows. A small detail, easily overlooked, but it stayed with him longer than it should have. He didn't know what it was about her that drew him in so silently. Perhaps it was the calm that radiated from her, the ease with which she seemed to navigate the world. A world that felt so foreign to him, full of warmth, of laughter, of things he didn't know how to touch without breaking them.

For a long moment, he didn't move, his eyes lingering on the faint outline of her figure. The recognition in his chest was more than just a memory; it was a small knot of understanding that tightened with the weight of years, of battles fought and lost, of paths chosen and walked alone. She understood, he thought. She understood the burden of carrying everything you had lost, the heaviness of isolation that weighed on you even in the busiest of places.

He didn't belong here. Not in the way they did. But, in the briefest flicker, in the tiniest sliver of connection that passed between them, he thought perhaps she did. Perhaps there was a place for him in this world after all, though he would never dare to reach for it. It was enough, for now, to know that there was someone else who could see the beauty in the shadows, who could recognize the small, quiet truths that others missed.


And as the crowd moved on, swirling around him like an ever-changing tide, he moved toward her. He had no idea what he would say or if he would say anything at all. He wanted to see her for a while before the next world, before the next fight. She had shared the quiet with him once.

And for that, he was grateful.

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

​

Objective: 3
Outfit: Loose top, tight leather pants
Tag: Dral Kar'taal

"Perhaps, but there is a reason one dares not cross a witch. A wave of a hand, a flurry of words and oh no, you are blind and hearing incessant whispering!" Dreidi grinned devilishly, she always enjoyed the idea of her power being something that outsiders would never understand and the dangers that posed to them. "So, the words I select have to be careful, since who knows what I am actually trying to do." Dreidi finished her drink and leaned against the bar with a sigh.

Thinking of what to share was always a daunting process. "I came from a small family, one that has grown far larger than I am sometimes comfortable with. It is nothing like Clan Verd, do not fret there." Dreidi chuckled deeply since she had heard the rumours of how large that particular clan was. "I was born on Kashyyyk, I speak a little Shyriwook. I currently live on Dathomir, teaching other witches how to harness their Magick." She didn't share the Jedi connection that Dreidi had on purpose. It was not a popular thing and in recent times, Dreidi has been feeling less connected to them. Happy to favour her Dathomir heritage far more.

"How about yourself, share somethings more about you." Dreidi suggested, curious to know more about the man that she had matched with.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin's brow arched after she spoke about him not needing his armor longer than he thought.

“how so?”

As he gently lifted her from her seat, fingers holding her hand in a way that is not claiming but assisting.

When she called him Lord he froze for a moment, a smile of amusement coming to his face.

“Lord Mortifer does have a nice ring to it, don't you think?”

He offered his elbow to her as they began to walk the trail, the sounds of conversation and the faint warmth of the fires ahead of them leading them on to their destination. The soft wind around them kicked off into a gentle breeze spreading the scent of the area around them.

“Though I do wonder, what would my master have my title be? Something that's always itched in the back of my mind.”

He looked down to the carvings she made him in his hand, and slowly ran his thumb over it, silently admiring it. One thing he noted of the experience was when carving there is always a risk of bleeding from a cut. A risk that they both took for each other. It may not have hurt, but the sacrifice is still there.

He gently turned the carvings in his fingers, admiring the different angles, finding new details at every turn down to the position of grain.

The thought of the Floralite crystal seed he gave her came to mind.

“How has the Floralite Seed been doing?”

He looked over to her sliding the carving into one of his pockets for safekeeping.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren walked beside him with quiet, practiced composure, the weight of her hand resting lightly on his arm as a grounding anchor as they followed the winding path toward the distant, flickering fires. The nocturnal breeze stirred the fine fabric of her sleeves, weaving the sharp scent of woodsmoke with the cool, heavy fragrance of the night air that settled between them like a shroud.

At his question, her lips curved into a faint, knowing silhouette of a smile.

"Because you have seen fit to trust me with the fragmented parts of yourself that most people are never permitted to glimpse," she answered, her voice a soft resonance in the quiet. "And that vulnerability was a gift you offered long before we stood together under the shadow of tonight."

Her gaze shifted forward as they continued their pace, her expression turning thoughtful and distant rather than teasing.

"Armor is not merely a construction of tempered metal and leather," she added, her voice gaining a philosophical weight. "Sometimes the most impenetrable plates are forged from silence, distance, and an iron-clad sense of control, and yet you set those defenses aside in my presence far more often than you perhaps realize."

When the name "Lord Mortifer" passed his lips, she released a quiet breath of genuine amusement, shaking her head slightly as if picturing the weight of the words.

"It certainly carries a suitably dramatic gravity," she murmured, the words tasting of dark poetry. "It is the sort of name designed to be intimidating, to ensure it remains etched into the memories of those who hear it."

Her expression shifted with subtle precision when he spoke of titles and the destiny his master might eventually carve for him. There was a deliberate pause, a moment of deep, silent consideration, before she allowed herself to speak again.

"Is that truly what occupies your thoughts?" she asked gently, turning her head just enough to catch his gaze fully. "Are you wondering about the weight of a Darth name?"

She let the question linger in the space between them only briefly before answering with a quiet, steady resolve.

"Mine would be Darth Eryndis."

There was no trace of bravado in her declaration, no theatrical flourish to mask the gravity of the name. It was simply a statement of calm, inevitable acceptance.

"If we are to speak of such transformations," she continued, her tone regaining its even, rhythmic quality. "They are names chosen to reflect the power we are destined to become, rather than the ghosts of who we once were."

Her eyes searched the contours of his face quietly, gauging the ripple of his reaction to her revelation.

Then, her voice dropped to a softer, more intimate register:

"Is that the question haunting you? Are you wondering what you will be called in the moment you choose to step fully into that darkness?"

When the conversation turned toward the Floralite seed, the sharp intensity drained from her features, replaced by a warmth that seemed to radiate from somewhere deep within.

"The seed has finally taken root in the soil," she said gently, her voice blooming with a sense of pride. "The process was slow and arduous, requiring a vast amount of patience and the most careful tending I could provide."

A faint, genuine smile touched her lips as she looked toward the horizon.

"But it is growing now."

She glanced down at the place where their hands joined, her touch lingering with a newfound significance before she looked back up at him.

"It is a slow blooming, perhaps, but beautiful and enduring. Like most things in this life that are truly worth keeping."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Eenia Vahn
Wearing: [X]

The compliment landed better than Adelle expected. The blush that crept over Nia’s face was satisfying to watch. Adelle smiled softly, watching the way Nia’s blue-green eyes widen and her lips part in surprise before the corners curled in a self-conscious smile. She looked down at their hands when Nia’s soft palm gently covered the back of her hand. When the other healer returned the compliment, Adelle’s smile turned crooked and she scoffed with a laugh. But watching Nia’s blush become somehow brighter as she continued was entertaining.

“If you think this looks good,” Adelle said, “you should see me in a dress. I clean up well. But that does lead into an earlier accusation.”

She leaned forward, eyes glittering with sass. “I said no one in my clan dances. I never said I couldn’t. And I don’t mean ‘move around like a fool without falling down.’ I mean actually dance.”

The bartender set down a cup of something fizzy and red in front of her, a slice of some bright fruit cut into the shape of a heart as garnish. Pink froth topped the liquid, threatening to spill over. Adelle used her free hand to grab the cup and took a cautious sip, getting some of the foam and some of the cocktail beneath. Sweet but not overly so and the fizz helped cut through it. It did nothing to dull the fire of Nia’s hand on hers nor the warmth spreading in her chest.

Adelle set her glass down with deliberate care on the bartop before attempting to maintain eye contact, instead of letting her gaze wander.

“I can give you some private lessons,” she said, hoping the teasing was evident, “if you ask nicely.”

 

[Eenia Vahn]

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
Wearing: [X]


“I do.” Eenia confirmed at Adelle’s statement about her thinking the other looked good. It was almost as if now that she had said something, she couldn’t shut herself up. It wasn’t a problem she usually had, and since she hadn’t even had a sip of her drink yet, that definitely wasn’t the cause. Add that to the fact that Adelle hadn’t yanked her hand away? It was only provoking whatever blabbering voice was going on inside of the blonde internally. “A formal event where cleaning up is necessary may just need to be in our future then.” She stated, then finally took up her drink again and sipped at it.

There was a tartness to the dark red liquid, but not so much that it made Nia make a face or anything. It was chased by a smoothness that wasn’t too sweet though it had a consistency like syrup that made her lick her lips and stare at the glass curiously before her attention returned to the other woman.

“Okay, hold on.” Nia put the glass back down after her drink. “You can’t go and say your whole clan can’t dance when you can dance.” She pointed out. “And I seriously think you’re going to have to prove it to me now, since you’ve made such a negative declaration, but now are saying you’re not only capable, but good.”

She held up a finger on her free hand, the other still resting comfortably over Adelle’s. “And if you prove yourself to be adequate, then we will discuss lessons.” A grin pulled up the corners of the blonde’s mouth, helping to punctuate her tease.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He thought for a moment when she brought up her example. The earliest sign that he showed trust in her was on Malachor. He smirked at her.

“Guess I should be happy you pulled me out of the frigid water that day.”

The path soon approached to a clearer opening where the great and grand bon fire still burned bright, the heat from the flames bathed over them. The runes along his forearms pulsed lightly with a resonance, as if speaking its own language with the flames beyond.

“Warriors remove their armor when they feel at home, or something of the like. Vulnerability can only be shown within thick walls. At least that's what I'm told. Perhaps it would be smarter to only show those feelings behind closed doors, but then it gets hard to breathe.”

He looked over to her as the firelight danced brightening their faces, and the flames themselves dancing within their eyes.

“Lord Mortifer was certainly a title that did that. Anyone within my father's war chambers respected him, feared him. Not only because of the name, but the history of the actions that scarred the lands of the one holding such a title.”

Her question about the weight of titles and names sat in his head for a bit as she stated her Darth name, a name that even though she showed no dramatics behind it, he could tell fit her through elegance.

“Darth Eryndis…”

He said it quietly to himself, listening to it from his own voice.

“Titles are only mere words without action to pull its gravity and weight. Not only do they reflect the power we are destined to be, to have; but a chance to carve it through history.”

He thought for a bit longer on her question about titles before a slow soft sigh escaped him.

“I guess what really burns in my head is will I leave a sufficient mark on the galaxy? When I die will I be forgotten? And how soon would that happen?”

He paused.

“It's selfish of me, I know that. To want people to know of me long after I'm gone.”

He walked her closer to the bonfire as she spoke of the Floralite and its growth, listening intently as the bar drew closer.

“I knew you could do it. Getting the process started is the hardest part. Even that has meaning in my culture.”

He guided her to a seat near the fire, far enough for the flames to be comfortable to her and not scalding.

Sitting next to her he took a breath before he spoke, hesitating for a split second as he gathered the words to use for her.

“It shows you are willing to put in the work for someone. That you have patience and care. Most couples who try to start the process shatter the seed. But once its roots cling to the dirt, the strength of the bonds allow the rose to grow and bloom.”

He looked back at her.

“First time planters have the lowest success rate.”

He spoke quietly as he looked her in her eyes, watching the firelight danced within the golden hue of her iris’.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Aliénor Denau]

Objective: 1
Outfit- Alchemsit Attire
Tag: Eira Dyn

Aliénor seemingly did a double take at Eira upon her calling this a relationship. What they had with one another. A bright red blush crept up the woman's face . It's not like that Aliénor didn't one day desire to have a relationship. But she would never be the one who would suggest such a thing first. Of course Eira moved at her own pace and she seemed to like Aliénor enough to call what they had a relationship. Or at least the very beginnings of one. The question lingered in Aliénor's mind as she pondered how to answer it properly. What did she want from the future of this?

"Happiness. Loyalty...unconditional love..." Aliénor told Eira in a soft and nervous tone "If I am..thinking about the future of this relationship, that is what I would want. The galaxy is already extremely dangerous, and I rather go through my days being happy with a woman of my choosing by my side. I hope that isn't too much too soon. But..those are my wants and desires."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

The firelight painted shifting gold and ember across Seren's features as she listened, the warmth brushing her skin while the evening's harmonic field hummed faintly at the edge of perception. When he mentioned Malachor, the faintest curve touched her lips.

"You would have survived," she replied softly, though the knowing look in her eyes suggested she had never truly intended to test that theory. "But I did not feel like leaving you there to prove it."

As he spoke of armor and breathing, of vulnerability confined behind walls, her gaze lingered on the runes pulsing along his forearms, then returned to his face.

"Walls keep out enemies," she said quietly. "They also keep in silence. There is a difference between safety and suffocation."

The crackle of the bonfire filled the brief pause between them.

When he voiced the question that truly burned beneath the titles and the history, Seren did not answer immediately. She watched the flames instead, as if considering how many names had been carried upward in smoke and forgotten by dawn.

"It is not selfish," she said at last, her tone steady. "It is human. To want your existence to mean something beyond your final breath."

Her gaze lifted to meet his, unwavering.

"But history does not remember names simply because they were spoken loudly. It remembers the ones that changed something. Even quietly."

She tilted her head slightly, studying him.

"You already leave marks, Varin. On the people who stand beside you. On the paths you choose. The galaxy is not shaped only by grand conquest. Sometimes it is shaped by who we refuse to become."

At the mention of the Floralite seed and the low success rate of first-time planters, her expression softened. There was a flicker of vulnerability there, unmasked by firelight.

"Then perhaps we are fortunate," she murmured. "Because neither of us rushed to force it open."

Her hand shifted, resting lightly against his, not claiming but present.

"Roots take hold when the ground is steady."

The flames reflected in her eyes as she held his gaze.

"As for being forgotten…" she added softly, almost contemplative. "I think the greater question is not how long the galaxy remembers you, but whether the right people do."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin smiled at her remark of him surviving in the water.

“I’m not sure, I can’t really swim.”

He laughed quietly as he remembered the water being shallow but still cold.

“But, I am thankful that you helped me. You helped me in so many ways that day.”

He shrugged lightly.

“Some would say too much safety can become suffocating, sheltered beings that are locked away from the world could have trouble coping.”

He listened to her speak of his desire to be remembered, the questions that burned in his mind. That it was a very human response.

He gave her a slow nod as he looked at the ground, his face finally lifting to meet her gaze when she mentioned that he already left marks in the galaxy. On the people who knew him, really knew him. The ones who stood beside him. That the galaxy is shaped by those who refuse to become.

“It’s true. The galaxy is always shaken up when something different happens. It draws in new perspectives, new theories and new allegiances. Well, sometimes new allegiances.”

He felt her hand shift over his and his fingers gently wrapped around her hand. He noticed the change in her expression, one of openness, his gaze softened when he noticed it.

“Some people, when they try planting the seed, rush it out of excitement. They cut corners, take shortcuts, all while trying to expedite the Floralites' growth. But the strain weakens the crystal, it usually does not get a chance to see daylight before it shatters.”

He though of his next words carefully in his head, a pause of silence as he looked down at their hands.

“I think the only people I wish to remember me for generations to come, would be my people. My home. I would want them to remember that I cared deeply for them, that I would do anything to see them flourish. My love for my home, that is what I want the galaxy to remember.”

He looked her in the eyes as a sense of vulnerability bled into his gaze.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

The firelight reflected softly in Seren's eyes as she listened, the glow steady rather than flickering, as though the warmth of the flames had found something solid to rest upon within her.

When he admitted he could not swim, the faintest curve touched her lips again.

"Then it was fortunate I was there," she replied quietly, though there was no teasing edge to it. "Even shallow water can take someone unprepared."

Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer when he spoke of how she had helped him that day, and she did not deflect it.

"We helped each other," she corrected gently.

As he spoke of memory and legacy, of his people and his home, something in her expression shifted into a deeper attentiveness. She did not interrupt him, allowing the vulnerability to exist without pressure.

When he finished, she drew a slow breath, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around his.

"That is not selfish," she said softly. "That is devotion."

The word carried weight.

"To want your people to remember that you cared, that you fought for them, that you chose them again and again even when it cost you."

Her thumb brushed lightly across the back of his hand.

"That is the kind of mark that does not fade quickly. It is not carved into stone or written in archives. It is carried in stories. In the way they raise their children. In the way they speak your name when they think of strength."

She held his gaze steadily, the vulnerability he showed not met with fear but with something steadier.

"If that is what you wish the galaxy to remember, then you are already walking the correct path."

The fire crackled between them, warm but contained.

"And for what it is worth," she added, her voice lowering slightly, "the people who stand beside you now already know you care."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

His gaze looked back at her when she finished speaking. A feeling of warmth spread through his chest as she clarified that what he felt was not selfishness, but quite the opposite. Devotion. Something a ruler must always feel for their people. A sense of meaning to make sure his people thrive to live their best lives.

“Devotion…”

He let the word hang in the air as he thumb caressed over his hand, a smile coming to his face.

“I…haven’t heard that word in years.”

He exhaled, trying to disguise it as a laugh, but the word seemed to impact him hard regardless of how he hid it.

He pulled the second bottle of wine from his bag and poured the two goblets again.

“I certainly can’t let this go to waste can I?”

He handed back her goblet then held his goblet in his hands, looking down at his reflection in the dark liquid.

“How…How did I help you Seren?”

His head picked back up to look at her.

“You were like a boulder. Unmoving, unbreaking, but…full of support.”

He paused.

“You gave me something to lean on when I could not keep my balance, sheltered me when I needed rest. And you never asked for anything in return.”

He looked her in the eyes.

“You did most of the heavy lifting, I don’t see how I helped.”

His gaze remained in hers as he breathed quietly, his hand tightening a bit around hers as the fire light bathed them in its golden glow, a fire not of destruction like he used, but one of a peaceful security and warmth.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

The second pour caught the firelight, deep crimson reflecting against gold and shadow as Seren accepted the goblet from his hand. She watched the way he studied his own reflection in the dark surface before he lifted his gaze back to her.

When he asked how he had helped her, the faintest crease formed between her brows. Not confusion, but disbelief that he truly did not see it.

Her fingers tightened gently around his.

"We have helped each other, Varin."

There was no hesitation in her tone.

"Malachor can get lonely."

The words were simple, but they carried weight. The memory of ash, wind, and endless stone lingered behind them.

"Watching holodramas and not having someone to speak to about them is not nearly as enjoyable as you might think."

A small flicker of humor warmed her expression, softening the admission without diminishing it.

"You were there. Not as a wall or a shield. Just…there."

Her thumb brushed lightly over his knuckles.

"Your temple became a place of learning for me as well. It expanded my knowledge in ways I had not anticipated. The texts. The history. Even the debates."

Her gaze held his steadily.

"You gave me space to think. To question. To speak without needing to measure every word."

The firelight danced in her eyes as she leaned just slightly closer.

"You may not see it as heavy lifting, but presence matters. Especially in places that echo."

Her expression softened fully then.

"You were not just leaning on me. I leaned on you, too."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Varin was silent as she explained to him the answer to his question. He had never thought of it that way, how simply being present can dull the edge of loneliness. He had been traveling by himself for a bit, but he always was meeting with someone, or he had Sinew with him to keep him company, CC too. He was never alone to the point where he couldn’t talk to someone.

The realization softened his eyes as his hand slid atop hers.

“I had no idea. Isolation can be…hard. I know that I always had someone or something with me to voice to, but how often did you have visitors before me?”

He thought of the temple, the time they had spent and a slow smile parted his face.

“I think the temple may be due for another visitation and study session.”

He thought for a moment.

He never saw himself as a strong foundation or a strong pillar to bear the weight of someone else, but here Seren was, flawlessly giving him the examples he asked for. They were not grand to most people, but to her and to Varin, they were big enough examples.

He took a sip from his drink and then held it in his lap, both hands holding the cup as his finger tapped the rim.

“That…”

He froze thinking about how he could say it.

“That means a lot to me. To know that I also helped you. To know that we had held each other when we needed it, giving each other a sense of safety and security to one another.”

He took a quick breath.

“I said I didn’t need the armor when I was around you and I meant it. Like I don’t need to hide anything from you. That used to frighten me, you know?”

His finger brushed the goblet then he looked at her.

“But I have never let fear dictate me nor how I live. It’s a risky move even for a Sith to trust someone, most would say foolish. But if I can live with even a speck of certainty that I can trust you, then that is enough for me.”

He spoke softly as his hand extended back over to hers again, fingers holding her loosely.

“I know you probably already know it, but hearing it is different. Especially from someone else, but..”

He took another breath.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore, Seren. I’m here for you.”

He looked her in the eyes as he spoke, the fires dancing within the shine of his iris as he spoke. There was no twitch in them, there was no avoidance, no recoil. He had chosen the path of his words and walked it, not looking back.

“That is partly why I admitted to you that I had fallen for you.”

His voice hushed just above a whisper, the conversation around them kept with its own rhythm as he stayed in this moment with her.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

The fire crackled softly between them, but for a moment the sound faded as Seren was pulled into the depths of the silence.

She had expected many things tonight, perhaps reflection or the soft touch of vulnerability, even a fleeting moment of tenderness. But she had not anticipated this. She had not expected a second offering of his heart, nor the way he repeated his truth without any hint of retreat. He did not soften the edges of his words to make them easier for her to hold; he simply gave them to her as they were.

Her fingers stilled within his.

For a heartbeat, she simply looked at him, genuinely caught off guard. It was not the intensity of his feeling that surprised her, for she had sensed that long before he ever gave it a voice, but rather the sheer steadiness of it. She saw the conscious choice behind his words and the lack of expectation in his gaze, which only made the weight of the moment heavier.

"Varin…"

His name left her quietly, sounding almost breathless in its surprise.

She had prepared herself once before for that confession. She had steadied herself, weighed the gravity of it carefully, and given him honesty in return. But hearing him say it again, with such calm and intentionality, unsettled her in a way she had not felt before. It was not a feeling of fear, but rather a sudden, undeniable sense of gravity pulling her toward him.

"You continue to surprise me," she admitted softly.

Her hand tightened around his, not pulling away but grounding herself in the physical warmth of his touch to steady her racing thoughts.

"It is not foolish to trust," she continued, her voice dropping into a lower and steadier register. "It is dangerous, yes, but it is not foolish."

Her gaze searched his face, studying the lack of hesitation that remained etched in his features.

"And hearing you say that I am not alone anymore…"

She paused as something vulnerable flickered across her features, a rare glimpse of her soul left unarmored and exposed.

"…that means more than you realize."

She drew in a slow, deep breath to steady herself against the rising tide of emotion.

"I do not say words like that lightly."

Her thumb brushed once over the back of his hand in a gesture of quiet reassurance.

"But I am here. I am choosing to stay, and I am choosing you."

The firelight caught in her eyes as she held his gaze. There was no retreat in her expression, only a profound and crystalline honesty.

"Perhaps someday," she added gently, speaking almost shyly in a way she rarely allowed herself to be, "I will be able to return those words to you in the way you deserve."

There was no rejection in her voice and no distance between them, only the acknowledgment of the time they still had to travel together.

She leaned just slightly closer until her forehead brushed against his for a brief and warm moment.

"Until then…let this be enough."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

He leaned into her as she did to him, silently taking in the words she had spoken.

Let this be enough.

The phrase replayed in his head. She did not feel ready to say it yet. That was okay with him. He would not force her into something she was not ready for.

He just needed her to hear his part.

A breath left him, no one of frustration or negativity, but of something…else.

He gently placed his lips on her forehead before leaning back into her once more, his hands holding hers.

His voice was like a breathing whisper to her as he spoke to her.

“As you wish...”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Eira Dyn]

​

Objective: 1
Outfit: Black Dress
Tag: Aliénor Denau

"Loyalty, unconditional love and happiness." Eira repeated with a nod of her head, while Eira was polygamous, she did not think anything that Aliénor was seeking was beyond what Eira could provide. "I think that makes sense." Eira mentioned with a nod of her head, she was loyal to others as long as she was always open and honest on what she saw the relationship to be and who were other partners she had. "I believe symbols of passion, fortune and creativity could be good additions to this spoon as well."

Those were elements that Eira desired in relationships and qualities that she enjoyed in partners so to Eira, it made sense to highlight them as something to continue to have in the future.

Eira heard a voice that she was surprised to see in the room. It seemed that one CT-312 and her Master Quinn Varanin were also whittling a lovespoon. She was curious if the soldier knew the meaning of such items. It did not seem to be something that Eira would assume 312 would be interested in creating. However, while she noted their presences and knew there would be teasing from Eira later down the line. This was a date that Eira was attending with a partner so she swiftly returned her focus to Aliénor.

"So, how shall we begin this? I am not too familiar with whittling processes personally." Eira gave a soft laugh.