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

[Rhys Swynol]

WELCOME TO ZINDER'S FESTIVAL OF THE ANGEL AND THE SPACER! KOBOH'S GREATEST LOVE TALE!


Travel to Koboh where we will be celebrating a lost legend that with the gracious support from Zinder, the local communities of Koboh have been able to bring back to life once again! Find a new partner of Zinder, bring an established one and come join in the grand festivities of this perfect matchmaking month! And for those curious on the legend, here is the Legend of the Angel and the Spacer:​

Legends speak of an angel that descended to Koboh thousands of years ago. An angel of great beauty and grace, she is said to have been a gentle soul who cured the ailments of all those who had fallen ill during a great plague. The kindness and love that she offered all those who crossed her path spread across the world. Reaching the ears of a spacer who desired to find the greatest beauty in the galaxy to be their wife.

Searching for the angel, the spacer found dozens of people who hailed her name, told tales of how she held a healing touch and how she could cure anything. The spacer also learned that she did this without desire for reward and declined any style of compensation. And the number of tales of heartbroken men who failed to swoon her heart and the spacer was convinced that it would take some great gesture or fantastical gift they did not hold.

The spacer began talking with people who had met this angel of love, asking what she looked like, what she enjoyed and what they could offer to capture the heart of this amazing beauty. Answers offered were vague, nothing seemed to work in gaining the angel’s attention in matters of love beyond the desire to help others. No credits, no great gifts, no promises of endless love. This beautiful angel just desired to help others and move forward in her life.

After a year of hunting the angel down, the spacer nearly gave up hope on finding where this reclusive beauty might be hidden. Until an old man came to them, stating that they must find a tree in the old forest, take a branch and whittle a spoon with the symbols of their passion, their understanding of the angel and the promises they seek to deliver on. A lovespoon. A simple gesture but one that took time, dedication and a desire to perfect.

Finding the best branch of perfect size and colour, the spacer dedicated themselves to whittling the perfect lovespoon to win the heart of the angel. Something that showed the understanding they held for the kindness the angel bestowed the people of Koboh as well as appreciating the focus on work over oneself. Pursuing a path with fervour. Each symbol connecting to them both and twisting their fates together.

Once completed, the spacer left the forest and found the angel waiting for them. Sitting, patiently. She took the lovespoon, holding it close to her chest and thanked the spacer for showing a symbol of their love to her. A single kiss was shared between the two of them. After the kiss, the angel collapsed in the arms of the spacer and passed away. Exhaustion and age finally catching up to her in the moment.

The spacer took her body and created the largest bonfire Koboh had seen. The bonfire burned for days, if not weeks, with drinking and dancing. Memories of the Angel of Koboh and the brief but pure love she shared with the spacer.​

---

Objective 1: Whittling in Love - Couples can carve a large wooden lovespoon to symbolise the love shared, exploring the process the spacer went through in the legend and learning of the differing ways that one can design a lovespoon. Each is unique since they can correlate only to the relationship shared with the couple. Zinder invites everyone to create a symbol of their love, a representation of your relationship whether new or old.

Objective 2: Speed Dating in Style - Our singles have a new opportunity to meet and date, with Zinder’s Speed Dating Event! Join us at a fine establishment where drinks flow freely. Meet people for a brief time to feel if there is a spark connection before moving onto the next person. If you find that spark and it is shared then you two are free to have a meal at the restaurant or go explore the other events that are going on! (OOC: How this will work is each pairing would have two posts to say hi/see if there is a connection before deciding to move on or explore things further.)

Objective 3: The Burning Passion - A Grand Bonfire has been constructed with a bar surrounding it. This large bonfire is in relation to the legend of the angel, with her body cremated by the spacer for all to see her fire. Restoring the tradition of a Grand Bonfire that burns for days, Zinder has also utilised this opportunity to allow people to gather, drink, dance and celebrate the legend’s heartbreaking conclusion. All drinks are themed around love potions or love cocktails, enjoy the festive delights!

Objective 4: Shooting for Love - Competitive Shooting Range (Dice Rolling objective) Couples that reach a score of 20 using the d6 on the board will receive a special prize. For our competitive and goal-orientated couples, Zinder has come up with a competitive shooting range! Test your skills with a gun, shooting down targets and attempting to beat a high score as a couple. Each person must have a go and you must reach over the score of 20 to win a prize! We are hoping this will inspire couples to work together well while also giving them a fabulous prize for achieving this collaboration. Test your bonds and see how well you fair! (OOC: This is a dice rolling event, each couple must roll a 1d6 per post and once the combined score reaches over 20 then you win a prize that I will be working on in the factory.)

 

[Lumiya Dara]

Objective: 2

I tuck my hands into the long sleeves of my robe, letting my fingers fidget there where no one can see. The chair feels too hard beneath me, my knees bouncing just enough that I hope it isn’t noticeable. The chatter around the room hums softly, but it feels far away, like I’m underwater. It’s fine. It’ll be fine… I repeat to myself, even though my stomach twists into knots.

Across the room, I watch the other tables. Some are already occupied, the pairs leaning close in easy conversation, laughter spilling over. I try not to judge, though I can’t help noticing the confidence in some of them being so casual, so sure. I wonder if they’re the sort of people who care more about appearances than kindness. I don’t want that. I won’t let myself be caught by someone who only wants to charm and move on.

The door opens again, and my pulse stutters, though I don’t lift my head. My gaze drifts instead to a pair across the hall; the woman smiling as her companion tells a story. I watch, quietly noting the warmth between them, a pang of longing threading through my nerves. Someone like that… maybe someone like that could be out there for me.

I shift in my chair, sleeves twisting tighter around my fingers. I remind myself that no matter what happens, it’s not my fault if no one comes to this table. It’s just luck, timing, nothing personal. And yet, I can’t stop imagining someone kind stepping toward me, a gentle smile, a calm voice. My heart whispers hope, but I tuck it away behind my caution.

Tag: OPEN

 

[Arris Windrun]

Arris Windrun hadn't left for Koboh yet. She was still too busy freaking out about Zinder and setting up her profile.

She decided to group message Kirie and Nilira Vornix to ask them both for advice.

<:"hey how do i play this?":>

Attached were 23 selfies ranging from blurry arthouse productions to accidental snaps of the floor or her pocket.

Incidentally, she also CC'd Acier Moonbound without context.

 

[Nilira Vornix]

<:"hey how do i play this?":>

<:"What makes you think I have any clue how dating works?":>

Nilira sighed to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose. This time, she hadn't been tricked to head out to the venue. No-one had matched with her anyway, so she could continue her studies either way.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren hadn't known what to expect of the festival on Koboh, despite the legends she'd read or Varin's quiet enthusiasm. But the reality—a valley draped in rose-gold lantern light and the scent of sweet woodsmoke—was more comforting than she'd imagined.

Moving past the crowds toward the whittling area, she took in the couples bent over wooden spoons in quiet concentration. She had dressed simply in a dark-blue dress with silver threading, her hair braided loosely; she felt like herself, unburdened by the usual weight of her role. There was something deeply intimate about the scene—no grand spectacle, just the meaningful act of creating something by hand.

Sensing a familiar presence, she turned.

Varin stood near an empty table, looking more relaxed and less guarded than she'd ever seen him. The sight made something in her chest ease instantly. With a small smile, she crossed the packed earth to his side.

"Looks like you picked a good spot," she said, her voice warm. She glanced at the smooth wood and tools, then back to him. "I expected this to be louder, but this part feels… calm."

She tilted her head, a hint of amusement touching her tone. "Have you decided what you're going to carve yet, or are you still pretending you're just here to observe?" Her gaze softened, turning honest and quiet. "I'm glad I'm meeting you here."

She gestured toward the empty seats. "Should we?"

Varin Mortifer

 

[Kirie]

<:"hey how do i play this?":>

 

[Varin Mortifer]

OUTFIT​

He was waiting for her to turn around, she would sense him eventually. Perhaps he could have found a better way to hide himself but he was distracted by her. He looked not only at her but into her. The outfit she wore left him speechless. He had to admire her for a bit before saying anything. He stopped at a nearby table that was vacant by people whittling spoons and other small projects.

He did not have a lot of experience with whittling, but it seemed like fun with an extra pair of hands. When Seren turned around she would see Varin in a much cleaner state. A black and maroon pin striped button up shirt, sleeves loosely rolled past his forearms, a maroon vest, some nice pants and some nice shoes. His hair pulled back just a bit more so it was less messy.

She caught him in the middle of admiring her attire. She looked absolutely stunning to him, for a moment he may have forgotten to breathe until she spoke to him.

“Some gatherings can be quite peaceful.”

He smiled at her as she approached, the slight warmth of his body clinging to the air around her. He gently hooked his arm around hers.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, I have never done this before. Spoons seem to be the entry level, we may be able to start with that…or…”

He gave her a look.

“We could really push ourselves and challenge one another to make something for the other?”

He looked down at her, a smile on his face.

“I’m happy you made it.”

He helped guide her to her seat and he slowly sat next to her, examining the tools and the wooden blocks before them.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Lohī]

Koboh
Tags: Open

Paperfolk​

"....so, you say that you are here to... 'get lucky,' hm?" Lohī mused. "Very fascinating."

The specimen sat before her was a male Balosar, probably in his late twenties. Lohī, now that she had a moment to step away from her Jedi studies following her knighting, decided to indulge in the culture of the common flesh-folk, if purely for scientific purposes. The man had shambled together a decent outfit by the standards of most, but wasn't well kept. Sunken eyes suggested that he hadn't been sleeping, and his hair was messy. It seemed to indicate that he had either 'gotten lucky' in the past and blown it or never gotten the chance.

This whole 'speed dating' concept seemed hardly meaningful for individuals looking to continue their bloodlines, but perhaps that was the point. Momentary amusement with few attachments to follow. Lohī was learning a lot about flesh-folk culture.

"F-fascinating?" the man stammered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing, just musing to myself," the Paperfolk assured. "This whole even has been quite educational. I'm learning a lot about the trivial distractions that people use to avoid their struggles with interpersonal relationships. It's very interesting to me how much emotional weight is carried into something that seems ill-poised to lead anywhere. I've noticed much of that in many attendants-"

And then it was time to move on to other dates. The balosar was quick to make himself a stranger. In fact, he up and left the event, making for the door. A frown came to Lohī's face as she tilted her head, bringing a finger to her chin. Her tail, which was awkwardly wrapped around the base of her chair, flicked as she pondered on what could have occurred.

"How odd," she observed, fully oblivious to what may have caused him to leave.

She would have to note this later when she wrote down her findings.

 

[Liin Terallo]

Objective: 3

Firelight is a dangerous thing. It draws the eye. It gathers people. It makes silhouettes of strangers and turns faces gold, soft and almost trustworthy. I have spent the better part of the last year avoiding light.

Once, I moved through chandeliers and holoprojectors and polished transparisteel floors without thinking twice about it. I hosted galas where politicians pretended to admire each other and investors pretended not to calculate profit margins in their heads. I knew how to command a room then; how to raise a glass, how to make a speech that sounded altruistic while hiding razor-edged intent beneath it. I miss that version of myself more than I like to admit. Back then, I was hunted too; but politically. Strategically. It was a chessboard, not a firing line. I could see the moves. Anticipate the counters.

Now the hunt is quieter. Now it hums beneath my skin like Isotope-5 in unstable suspension used to. Syndicates. Governments. Jedi. Corporations. All circling the same question: what have I made… and how can they control it?

I tuck my hands into the sleeves of my dress; simple, but chosen carefully. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to dress for something other than function. No lab coat. No reinforced seams. No hidden compartments. Well. Fewer hidden compartments.

The bonfire crackles ahead of us, sparks spiraling up into the dark like wayward stars. Music drifts through the air; drums, laughter, the shuffle of boots against packed earth. It is wild in a way my old celebrations never were. There are no seating charts. No donor tiers. No security checkpoints pretending not to be security checkpoints.

Though I suppose I brought my own. Vex walks beside me. My Jedi shadow. My rescuer. He had called it fresh air. I had called it reckless. And yet… I came.

He is different tonight. Less rigid. The firelight softens the angles of him, steals some of that constant vigilance from his shoulders. Or perhaps that is wishful thinking. He still scans the perimeter without meaning to. Still places himself half a step closer to the crowd than to me.

Protective.

Possessive?

No. That would be unfair. I do not know what I see when I look at him. Only that I am not as oblivious as he may hope. Jedi are trained to master emotion, but suppression is not absence. It leaks out in the pauses between words. In the way he watches me when he thinks I am distracted.

I am not distracted. I am calculating. And yet, as the music swells and someone nearby lets out a bright, unrestrained laugh, something in my chest loosens.

I used to create nights like this. I used to stand at the center of celebration and believe I was untouchable. Now I stand at its edge, a fugitive wrapped in borrowed normalcy, wondering if I am allowed - even for a few hours - to be only a woman by a fire.

The flames pop sharply, and for a heartbeat I imagine blasterfire instead. Perhaps old habits die hard. I draw in a slow breath and let the warmth reach my skin. “If this ends with me being recognized and kidnapped,” I murmur lightly to Vex without looking at him, “I expect you to admit I was right.” A small pause. Then, softer and almost to myself, I continue with “But… thank you for bringing me.”

For once, I am not running. For once, I am simply here. And I do not know which is more dangerous.

Tag: Vex Drakkon

 

[Niijima Izumi]

The lantern-lit streets of Koboh were alive with music, laughter, and the warm scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced wine. Izumi stepped from the shadows, her black-and-crimson silk kimono swaying lightly with each step, the wide straw hat shading her face. Her earrings glowed softly, small points of light against the muted chaos of the festival. Beneath the folds of her kimono, the hilt of her sword peeked out; a quiet reminder of discipline amid indulgence.

She paused at the edge of the crowd, taking in the festival with detached curiosity. The stories of the Angel and the Spacer felt distant to her. Love, she thought, was something others chased, something fragile that could be grasped for a moment but never truly held. She had seen too many lives wasted chasing illusions, too many hearts scorched by desire. And yet… there was something compelling about the patience, the care. It was admirable, in its way, though not for her.

The speed-dating tables caught her attention, laughter and hurried greetings spilling into the air. A pang of amusement flickered briefly across her mind. Humans, she mused, could be endlessly theatrical when it came to matters of the heart. She understood their fascination; observing, calculating, presenting themselves; but she could not summon the same hunger for connection. To her, love was not a strategy or a conquest. It was a distraction, one she had long since abandoned in favor of purpose and precision.

Still, she lingered, letting her eyes sweep over the crowd. The festival was beautiful in its chaos, a rare harmony of celebration and devotion. She thought of the Angel and the lovespoon, of the patient dedication it took to honor another’s heart. That kind of commitment… she recognized it. But commitment to another? No. She had her own path, one that required no reciprocation, no shared warmth. Only the quiet certainty of her own steps.

Izumi moved deeper into the festival, unnoticed yet present, a figure of calm amid the revelry. The soft glow of her earrings caught in the shadows, the subtle curve of her sword hidden beneath her kimono. She was not here for love, not for sparks or fleeting romance. But she would watch. She would observe. And perhaps, in the stories of others, she might find a strange sort of beauty worth noting.
​

Varek Ordo​

 

[Acier Moonbound]

<:"hey how do i play this?":>

​

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

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

Zinder had been an interesting experience for the Dathomiri witch, she was never sure how the person would be in reality but she was never sure on how to best sell herself. There was only the hopes that her images and the brief information that Dreidi surrendered about herself would be enough to lure in someone to spend time with her. Dreidi felt somewhat positive about the experience and had even found a match with a Mandalorian, so someone that would be already close to where Dreidi lived which was an added bonus.

Flying across the galaxy to meet her son was already enough travelling for Dreidi, she had not been keen on doing it more for someone that she was potentially romantically interested in.

When deciding on what events to attend, the bonfire with a bar sounded the most appealing for a first encounter. Something to help calm the nerves of a first date in over a decade by now and it was interesting to see how this large bonfire would be displayed. There was something primal and intriguing about drinking around a fire and potentially dancing. Dreidi was keen on having some fun and letting loose, she just wanted to make sure it wasn't too formal or overly intimate. The lovespoons felt far too much of a leap as a first date for Dreidi but interesting in concept. It was something that Dreidi had not heard of till the event.

The outfit she was wearing was also something that Dreidi felt a little nervous about since she was not always one for wearing such tight fitting clothing since it was too revealing of her figure. It was also something that she never thought too much about since Dreidi wasn't trying to dare lots of attention to herself. However, Dreidi wanted to make a good strong first impression with her look. Trying a different approach in life and being more forward and making a positive opening look.

"Corellian whisky, neat." Dreidi ordered at the bar as she leaned against it.

 

[Kar'taal]

​

Dreidi Xeraic
​

Dral Kar'taal had left his armor behind for the night. That alone was an unusual decision.

The beskar rested secured in his quarters, polished and ready should it be needed, but tonight he wore something far less guarded. Dark fitted trousers, a clean shirt with the sleeves rolled just enough to reveal strong forearms marked faintly by old scars. The weight of the armor was absent, and with it the barrier that most people encountered first when they met him.

Very few ever saw him without it. Fewer still were permitted close enough to notice the smirk that now curved faintly at the edge of his mouth.

He had reviewed the profile more than once. Dathomiri. Mother. Strong presence even through filtered images and brief words. There had been something unapologetic about her, something that did not beg for attention and yet did not hide either. That alone had piqued his interest.

As he approached the bonfire, the heat kissed against his skin in a way beskar usually absorbed without complaint. Music carried across the clearing. Laughter rose and fell and then he saw her.

Firelight seemed to bend toward her rather than away. She stood with the kind of posture that came from surviving storms rather than avoiding them. The fitted attire she wore was deliberate, not accidental. It was not for display. It was a statement. A deeper smile formed across his face, confident and slow.

He altered his path slightly, circling so that he would approach from her right. Not from behind. Not directly from the front. A position that allowed her awareness to register him without feeling cornered. He slid onto the seat beside her with unhurried ease.

"I'll have what she is having."

His voice carried low and steady, edged with a faint rasp that suggested both command and amusement. The bartender moved to comply. Only then did he turn fully toward her.

"Miss Xeraic," he said smoothly, inclining his head just enough to acknowledge her without diminishing himself. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I am your company for the evening. Dral Kar'taal, at your service."

His hand extended, palm upward in invitation rather than demand.

When she placed her hand in his, his grip was firm but careful. He lifted it with practiced confidence and brushed a brief kiss across the top of her knuckles. The gesture was deliberate, almost theatrical, yet the warmth behind it was genuine.

He released her hand slowly.

"You drink whiskey," he observed, a flicker of approval in his gaze as he studied the glass before her. "I like that."

The corner of his mouth lifted again, eyes reflecting the bonfire's glow as he leaned back slightly, giving her space even as his presence remained unmistakable.

"Tell me," he continued, voice lowering just enough to suggest interest rather than interrogation, "Is it the burn you enjoy, or the warmth that lingers after?"

 

[Eira Dyn]

Objective: 1
Outfit: Black Dress
Tag: Aliénor Denau

Eira had heard of the whittling class for lovespoons and thought that it would be the perfect thing to drag one very shy but also very talented beautiful woman to. It was a task that was both intimate and creative. A chance for them to spend some more time together but also see what they could create. Eira wasn't too convinced about how these objects should look, nor was she convinced that this was the best way to express one's truest form of love. It was an object that would burn in a fire from what Eira understood.

If it could not withstand fire, then how could it survive her passion?

Eira determinedly dragged Aliénor to the event. Koboh was a fun new world to visit, there was time they could spend together and who knows what new ingredients Aliénor could discover uses for outside of Ghorman. Eira was excited to be there and made sure to adorn herself in a beautiful yet simple black dress. Something that she was sure her companion would appreciate in the quality and the way that it sat on her figure.

"What are your thoughts on this tale of whittling a lovespoon to demonstrate your bond and emotions for another?" Eira asked, curious what her companion would think and feel on the matter. To understand where someone who has a more creative thinking mindset would be in comparison to where Eira was personally with how she thought about it all. Her heels clicked on the ground as they wandered to the room where the wood was set for them to begin the whittling and working with the wood in order to carve the spoons.

Looking around, "how do you wish to begin?" This was something more suited for a creative person and it was a chance to see that side of Aliénor, the side that drew Eira in more.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren let out a soft breath of amusement when she finally turned and found him there, already waiting, already looking far too composed for someone who had clearly been caught staring. For a moment, she simply studied him in return, taking in the rolled sleeves, the careful way his hair had been pulled back, the effort he had so obviously put into looking presentable without trying too hard.

A faint smile curved at the corner of her mouth as she slipped her arm more comfortably through his.

"You clean up dangerously well," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear, warmth threading through the teasing.

She glanced down at the spread of tools and wooden blocks, then back up at him, considering his suggestion. There was something about it that felt right. Personal. Intentional. Very him.

Her fingers brushed lightly against his sleeve as she settled into her seat beside him.

"No shortcuts, then," she said quietly, a thoughtful note entering her voice. "If we're going to do this, we might as well do it properly."

She tilted her head slightly, meeting his gaze.

"Let's make something for each other," she agreed, her tone soft but certain.

After a brief pause, she added, genuine curiosity behind the question,

"So…what would you like?"

Her eyes lingered on his for a moment longer than necessary, the smile still there, quieter now, carrying more meaning than teasing.

"Something simple," she added gently, "or something that says more than it looks like?"

Varin Mortifer

 

[Ives]

Arris Windrun hadn't left for Koboh yet. She was still too busy freaking out about Zinder and setting up her profile.

She decided to group message Kirie and Nilira Vornix to ask them both for advice.

<:"hey how do i play this?":>

Attached were 23 selfies ranging from blurry arthouse productions to accidental snaps of the floor or her pocket.

Incidentally, she also CC'd Acier Moonbound without context.

Ives had just left Koboh, and just in time to avoid the local festival. He'd picked up a brief gig as a waiter in one of the local restaurants and had already needed to fight the urge to retch into the coffee cups of dozens of lovey-dovey couples. He'd really needed the money, okay. They were hiring without asking questions and no other places wanted a going-on-broke, professional people-hater like Ives.

He'd be happy never to see another Zinder ad in his life, though the organization seemed to haunt him. Just now, as he vacuously stared into space in some queue, he caught the logo appear on the telecommunication device of the person in front of him. He looked, out of reflex, drawn to the shiny screen like a moth to a flame, and regretted the move immediately.

The person had swapped to a group message conversation with a bunch of pictures a moment later, where the real damage was done. Wow those are terrible. He didn't want to laugh, really, but...were five pictures of a blurry right boot from slightly different top-down angles really the latest dating meta?

Ives tried to suppress the laugh. He pleaded with himself not to, but the snort escaped into his elbow anyway.

This season truly sucked.

 

[Lumiya Dara]

Objective: 2

The candles have burned lower.

I have not moved much since sitting down. My hands remain tucked inside my sleeves, fingers tracing the inner seam in small, repetitive strokes. It is something to do. Something quiet. Something that keeps the restlessness from showing.

There is laughter somewhere to my left that sounded both bright and easy. Chairs scraping, introductions offered with confident warmth. I do not look toward it directly. I see enough reflected in the rim of my untouched glass.

Others were approached quickly. Perhaps I look as though I do not wish to be. Or perhaps I simply do not shine in the way this setting requires.

The flame before me bends as someone passes behind my chair. For a heartbeat I think they might slow. They do not. It would be simple to leave. I could rise without notice. Slip away between conversations. No one here knows my name. No one would ask where I was going. I could tell myself that crowded lantern-light and hopeful glances were never meant for me, and that I am better suited to quiet rooms, to the steady rhythm of healing breath, to places where being gentle is not mistaken for being invisible.

My fingers still. I have spent too much of my life stepping aside. Still… I shift slightly in my chair, just enough that I am no longer fully settled. If no one comes before the music changes again… perhaps I will allow myself that small retreat. Just this once.

Tag: OPEN

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He chuckled at her remark, assuming it was a compliment before he straightened out the vest just a bit.

“You’re lucky. I don’t clean up and wear my nice clothes for just anyone. How does the phrase go? I would probably have to fight the ladies off with a stick?”

He gave her a soft smile

“Besides, I would be keeping them away for their safety from you, most likely.”

He looked down at the tools then back at her.

“You though, you look like you are dressed to kill. To be honest you had an advantage in catching me. Had me stunned for a while there.”

He felt the way her fingers brushed his sleeve and his arm. He picked up one of the blocks, examining it carefully, its shape and dimensions. After she spoke he gave her a curious look.

“Usually it’s ladies first.”

He gently sat the block back down and started examining the tools before him, they seemed well used, but well kept. Still sharp, still edged. These tools had experience, he could tell.

“I say, try to replicate what you see when you look at me. Something that reminds you of me, and I will do the same.”

He picked up a starting knife and his block.

“It can be as simple or as complicated as you wish, but as long as it comes from you, I know I will like it.”

Boy, you are being extremely cheesy right now. You have to take a break from the holodramas

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Laphisto]

Objecive 2
No armor. No escort in full kit. No visible weapons beyond what decorum would allow. An unaffiliated Mandalorian, they had said. A trader. A negotiator. Someone seeking terms, perhaps profit, perhaps neutrality. The word "delegate" had been used more than once, spoken with careful neutrality by men he trusted with his life. Commander Tarian and Cora had joined him on this mission and promptly took off after dropping him off. something about needing to check cargo.

He had not entirely liked the tone. Still, he honored the request.

The armor remained secured within its vault, the LO-58A plates resting in silent readiness rather than wrapped around his frame. In their place, he wore the ancient Kiev'arian ceremonial garments he had last donned for the weddings of Maldor Sancetti . The fabric was heavy, dark, and finely worked, its subtle embroidery catching the light with restrained elegance rather than opulence. It was traditional. Old. From a world long dead. The cut of it accommodated his towering frame, the material falling clean along his shoulders and down the length of his arms without restricting movement. It was the only formal attire he possessed that did not resemble battlefield attire.

Even without armor, he did not look unarmed. He never truly did. He remained seated in the restaurant. Why such a public meeting place was teh choice he didn't quite understand. nor did he question it, Laphisto adjusted the cuff at his wrist with deliberate, almost absent-minded precision. The motion was small, controlled. A grounding gesture more than a nervous one. His heterochromatic gaze lifted occasionally toward the entryway, then returned to the room's bustling activity

He inhaled slowly. Mandalorians. He had fought their kind in wars older than most civilizations still standing. He knew the weight of iron. He knew the pride behind the helm. He also knew that an "unaffiliated" Mandalorian was often a contradiction waiting to reveal itself.

His posture remained relaxed but upright, shoulders squared, hands resting loosely before him on the table once he finished adjusting the cuff. There was no visible tension in him, but there was readiness.

Hilal Vizsla

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Eenia Vahn

The event notification from Zinder had lived in Adelle’s head for a week before she’d sent a message to Nia and asked if she wanted to check it out but that Adelle would understand if she didn’t. The reply had been almost instantaneous.

<: NO I’LL DO IT! :>

Adelle approached the gathering around the giant bonfire with Nia beside her, wearing the outfit she’d worn to Club Cadaver in Level 1313 on Coruscant. She didn’t quite know what to expect but she figured looking nice didn’t hurt. The fitted black pants had needed to be laundered, and she had to pay through the nose to get the cropped white jacket dry-cleaned, but they did make her sleeveless black tunic look way nicer than it was.

Phantom, of course, crouched on her shoulders, fine black hairs collecting on the fabric.

“I figured this was as good a place to start as any,” Adelle said, looking over at her fellow healer. “And since I picked the activity last time, I thought you might pick what you wanted to do this time.”

A glimmer of mischief entered her mismatched eyes. “And it doesn’t look like there’s anything physical here, so there’s no danger of you hurting yourself.”