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

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren's smile widened just a fraction at his easy confidence, her eyes bright with quiet amusement as she listened to him talk himself into and back out of compliments in the same breath. She did not interrupt him, merely letting the warmth of his words settle before answering in her own way. When he suggested she carve what she saw when she looked at him, she went still for a moment, her gaze lingering on his face with a thoughtfulness that went far beyond the playful tone of the moment. She wasn't merely staring or judging, but simply seeing him in a way few others likely did.

She reached for one of the smooth wooden blocks and turned it slowly in her hands, feeling the unique grain beneath her fingertips. For a few seconds, she said nothing at all, and then, almost imperceptibly, the light around the table seemed to shift as the shadows cast by the lanterns stretched just a little farther than they should have. They gathered at the edges of her vision—soft, subtle, and obedient to her quiet will.

Without drawing any unwanted attention or making a spectacle of her power, the darkness along the edge of the table thinned and shaped itself, forming a faint, delicate outline across the wood's surface that was neither carved nor burned, but drawn entirely in shadow. It was a suggestion rather than a command, and the resulting image was simple yet unmistakable: a stylized figure standing at ease, broad-shouldered and grounded, one hand behind his back, the other open. Around the figure, faint curved lines like quiet embers or ancient runes shimmered, suggesting warmth, protection, and a sense of restrained power rather than outward aggression.

Her breath remained slow and steady as she looked down at the silhouette she had conjured.

"When I look at you…" she said quietly, her voice low and thoughtful, "I see someone who carries fire without letting it burn everything around him."

She picked up one of the carving tools, testing its balance with a practiced ease that spoke of long hours of study and focus. "Strength," she continued softly, "but restrained. Heat…held in check."

Then she began the work in earnest. Her movements were careful, precise, and almost reverent as the blade followed the shadowed lines as if they had been drawn there for her alone. With her wrist steady and her fingers sure, each shallow cut was deliberate, characterized by a lack of wasted motion or any sign of hesitation. The soft rasp of steel against wood blended seamlessly with the distant music and the festival's ambient chatter, creating a private rhythm between them.

She worked slowly and patiently, tracing the figure and deepening the curves until she had refined the edges, successfully turning a mere suggestion of shadow into a permanent form. The shadows eventually faded as the carving took their place, leaving behind only the tangible result of what her hands had made. After several quiet minutes, she finally glanced up at him, a faint and slightly self-conscious smile touching her lips.

"I hope you don't mind," she murmured. "That's… what you look like to me."

Her eyes flicked back to the carving, then back to him once more. "Steady," she added gently, "and warmer than you pretend to be." Then, almost as an afterthought, her tone softened with a touch of quiet humor. "Now…I'm curious what you think you see when you look at me."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varek Ordo]

The festival streets of Koboh were alive in a way that seemed to mock the quiet rhythm of his own existence. Laughter spilled like wine across the cobblestones, weaving through the throngs of revelers, each face alight with the careless joy that only fleeting pleasures could bring. Lanterns swayed in the evening breeze, casting flickering shadows on the street, their soft glow mingling with the amber haze of roasting chestnuts and spiced wine. The air was rich with music and the heady scent of honeyed treats, the din of the crowd a soundtrack to the vibrant scene. Yet, amidst it all, there was a distance, a space between him and the world, as though he were watching it all through a fogged window, detached from the warmth of the moment.

Varek Ordo walked through the crowd, his heavy steps cutting through the laughter, his green armor flickered in the lights of the lanterns and signs, the only indication of his attention was the subtle movements of his head. He kept his hands on his beskad and blaster, a quiet reminder of who he was. His eyes flicked across the festival with a detached disinterest. He didn’t belong here—not truly. These streets, so full of life, so full of warmth and connection, seemed like another world entirely, a place for those who could afford the luxury of dreaming. Dreaming of love. Dreaming of something greater than the battles that had shaped him, something softer, something… real.

He wasn’t one of them.

Love. It was a thing spoken of in hushed tones, in the poetry of the heart, in the fleeting smiles exchanged between strangers. He had heard it described a thousand ways in the stories, in the songs sung around campfires, in the whispered promises of youth. A beautiful dream, woven into the fabric of fairy tales, reserved for those with the luxury of time, of innocence. It was a dream for the pure, for those untouched by the grime of the world, for those who could afford to linger in the soft spaces between breaths and let their hearts flutter like the wings of a bird.

But not him.

He had long since abandoned the idea of love as anything other than an fallacy. A fleeting moment of warmth in a life of coldness and chaos. He had known too many hearts broken by it, too many lives undone by the pursuit of something that could never be held for long enough. He had seen it all: the desperate chase for connection, the hollow promises, the vows spoken with fire only to burn out in the night. Love, he had come to realize, was a cruel thing for a warrior, an illusion that could not be clung to when the weight of duty pressed so heavily on the chest. No, love was not a dream for men like him.

As he passed the speed-dating tables, the hurried greetings and flustered laughter spilling into the air, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something—a soft amusement, perhaps, or pity, though he would never admit it aloud. The denizens were endlessly theatrical in their pursuits of affection, putting on masks and personas, pretending to be something they weren’t in the hope of winning another’s heart. It was absurd. He understood the fascination with connection, the hunger for it, but he could not summon that same desire. Not anymore.

Izumi’s words from earlier echoed in his mind as he walked, distant and measured: “I don’t think you forgot how to be lighter. I think you just forgot you were allowed to.” He hadn’t answered her, hadn’t known what to say. He had felt it then, the weight of her observation, but he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge it. He couldn’t. A warrior like him didn’t deserve to be lighter, didn’t deserve to cast off the armor of solitude and let the warmth of another in. He had long ago buried that part of himself. It wasn’t meant for him. It was meant for those who could afford to dream, those who had the luxury of innocence, of hope.

As he moved deeper into the festival, the lights grew brighter, and the noise grew louder, but there was a dullness to it all for him, a kind of hollow hum that only served to accentuate the space between himself and the world. He was a soldier. A mercenary. A killer. Those things were hard to shed, even in the soft glow of celebration. There was no room for love in a life like his. It was a foolish fantasy, something he had once briefly entertained but could never truly reach.

The laughter around him seemed to rise in volume, a cacophony that drowned out his thoughts for a brief moment, and yet, the harder he tried to let himself be swept up in it, the more he felt his solitude pulling him away. He could never quite blend in. Not here. Not among the innocent revelers who danced and laughed, their hearts alight with the fire of something simple and pure. He was different, separate from them, like a shadow walking through a dream.

The thought occurred to him, unbidden, that he might never deserve that dream. Love was a thing that could be held by those who were unscarred by the weight of the world, who could afford to lose themselves in the embrace of another without worrying that the world would rip them apart in the next moment. But Varek had long since crossed that line. He was a warrior, and warriors were not meant for love. He had been forged in battle, in bloodshed and violence, and no amount of festivals or sweet music would change that.

And yet, as he passed a couple laughing together near the corner, his gaze lingered for a brief moment, watching their faces as they shared something that was pure and simple, and his chest tightened—a flicker of longing deep within him that he quickly shoved down, like a flickering candle blown out by a gust of wind. It was fleeting, gone almost as soon as it appeared, but it left a lingering bitterness on his tongue, a reminder of something he would never have, something he could never claim.

Love was a beautiful dream for others. For the soldiers of legend, for the heroes sung about in tales, yes, but for a man like him? A man who had seen too much, done too much? Love was a dangerous thing. It was a tether, a vulnerability, and in his line of work, vulnerability was a death sentence. He had learned that the hard way.
The laughter from the festival continued to echo around him, the steady beat of drums carrying through the streets, the flashing lights of the lanterns dancing on his armor like fireflies. But Varek felt nothing but the cold weight of his own choices. He didn’t belong here. He never would.

He knew that love, in the end, was a beautiful thing—a rare, precious jewel for those who had the time, the freedom, and the innocence to nurture it. For him, there would never be that kind of freedom. There would never be time to rest, to care. His life was forged in battle and darkness, in the heat of the moment and the sound of blaster-fire, in the harsh, unrelenting reality of survival. He had chosen this path long ago, and it had chosen him in return.
Perhaps that was why he couldn’t let himself dream of love. Dreaming would make it harder to stay in the shadows, to remain detached, to protect the only thing he had left: his purpose. The sharp edge of his duty, the cold certainty that love would only ever be a fleeting distraction, a dangerous illusion in a world built on survival.

As he walked further through the festival, the bustling street a blur of color and noise around him, Varek felt the familiar weight of his thoughts pressing down on him again. The dream of love, the idea of connection, was something reserved for others. He had no place for it. Not in his life. Not in his heart.

His heart, he thought bitterly, was a weapon, a thing that had been hardened and forged by years of service, of loss, of betrayal. There was no room for softness in it, no place for vulnerability. And as he walked through the festival, the laughter of the people echoing around him, he knew, with a cold certainty, that it would never be his dream to claim.

But still, as the lanterns danced overhead and the music swirled around him, he couldn’t help but wonder—just for a moment—what it might feel like, to be part of that dream, to let love in. What would it be like, he thought, to simply be... human again?



Niijima Izumi

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin watched as the shadows somewhat pulled to her as she looked at him, not studying, but picturing what was in her head, what she could turn into a reality. The shadows pooling themselves into small shapes on the small wooden block, the shape he could see, but he averted looking at the block to remain surprised until she was ready to reveal what she pictured, what she saw him as.

He watched the warm smile touch her lips as she began to cut into the block, shaping, carving, smoothing. Placing delicate techniques into her piece that made it seem like she had done it before. Though he assumed she was new at it. She spoke before she started carving, bringing her visions to words as if willing it onto the block for the wind to hear and take note. He listened in silence, watching how she worked with surprising efficiency.

How she held the block and the tool, how she grew comfortable with the carving techniques, how the shadows seemed to guide her and lead her hands. He watched entranced in how she worked. So entranced he could not bring himself to start, his eyes and his mind wanting to see just what her mind could create and how her hands could translate. He was not just looking at the wood, he was looking and watching her as a whole. As he watched his head started piecing together just what he saw in her.

When she spoke again he looked down at her art piece. A smile developing on his face. Through all its imperfections and any small scuff marks, what he saw was a piece from her that could never truly be replicated. Something truly one of a kind and truly special. Every bit of detail on the block was not just a carving, but a sign of dedication she had to put work into something that would seem small to someone else, but to Varin, was something that he would cherish.

He leaned closer to get a better look, his hand gently placed around hers as he gazed at the carving. A small breath escaped him as he let out a small exhale of a laugh. For a moment he was speechless.

“That’s amazing. It looks…You’ve never done this before?”

He asked as his eyes found hers.

“I don’t know if I will top that really.”

He chuckled lightly, no it was not a competition in his eyes, but she has shown just how easily she could bring thoughts to life. He thought for a moment, before picking up his block and inspecting it closely, then he picked up one of the carving knives.

“When I look at you…”

He started, but his words slightly trailed off as he began making his first cuts into the wood. Sloppy at first at the starting edges, but slowly he gained his rhythm and his comfort as bit by bit he whittled down the wood, adding in curves as a background and angles behind it. He slowly developed a black scape in the background, dotted with small stars. He thought for a moment.

“I see something not only mysterious and powerful. But I see a beauty. One to be beheld by many eyes. Someone that is able to capture the gaze of many and leave in awe. Mysterious but also full of wisdom. Though you sit silently, you can move currents.”

As he spoke he dug into the background giving the stars a texture you can feel, and at the center of the block is a detailed moon. Certain textures ran along the moon’s surface to give it a look of shading, giving it life. It was not merely a circle on a blank slate. It was a ring of detail in something small. Though he was not very well versed in carving or whittling, he found a rhythm with his body to just feel what needed to be added. What curves went where, what angles carved the background.

As the shavings piled up on his side of the table, it took him some time but he finally finished. A star scape background that beheld a great beauty and mystery of a moon.

He set the block down, his eyes running over it for any final touches.

“When I look at you. This is what I see.”

He looked back at her.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

​

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

As Dreidi waited for her drink, she allowed herself a moment to listen to the music around them, the chanting of songs that had been lost once. The dancing and excitement that locals felt to a revived celebration. It reminded Dreidi of Dathomir, to a degree, the faded traditions and histories of what they once were and what they could be once again if they set their minds to it.

A voice called out and Dreidi looked over to see a man approaching, the man that she had matched with, ordering the same drink as she had. It would be curious to see how he handled a beverage like this. Whisky was not to everyone's taste and Dreidi mostly wanted it to just calm the nerves of a first date, it was not her usual preference for beverages. As her drink was being poured, the man took her hand and placed a kiss upon it. Very formal and very curious since Dreidi was not used to that style of introduction. It was something she had read about in romance novels and seen something done by nobles, but it wasn't a gesture Dreidi thought she would experience.

But it was definitely pleasant enough.

"Pleasure to meet you in person, Dral. Please, call me Dreidi." She gave a warm smile as nodded her head, unsure how reply to such gestures. Does she curtsy? That felt wrong. Kissing his hand back definitely felt like the wrong move. A smile and nod of her head felt just right.

When he commented on the fact she drank whisky and he liked that, Dreidi gave a soft laugh and shrugged, "it is not something I consume often. I was hoping to allow it to settle my nerves for a bit. Been a long time since I have done anything like this." Dreidi confessed, figuring it would be important to show where she was in her thinking.

Lifting the glass in her hand, letting the bonfire reflect and dance, Dreidi took a moment to think on her answer. "The burning is pleasant, reminds me of what I am drinking the strength this drink holds, a caution. The warmth is probably something everyone finds far more pleasurable, myself included, but for me it is a warmth that feels like it is connecting me to the flames. Something that I use a lot in my Magicks."

Her gaze shifted slowly from the glass to the handsome man before her, "so, what about yourself? What is it about a whisky that you enjoy?"

 

[Dral Kar'taal]

Dreidi Xeraic​

Dral listened carefully as she spoke, and the way she chose her words told him far more than the words themselves.

"Dreidi," he repeated smoothly, letting her name settle naturally on his tongue. It suited her. Strong, direct, without unnecessary ornament. He inclined his head again, this time less formal and more personal. When she admitted her nerves, his smirk softened into something more grounded.

"It has been some time for me as well," he replied evenly. "Mandalorian life does not leave much room for… evenings like this."

His glass arrived. He wrapped his fingers around it, feeling the weight, the coolness of the crystal before lifting it slightly in acknowledgment of her choice.

As she spoke of the burn and the warmth, his gaze sharpened with interest rather than skepticism. Many would have misunderstood her words about magicks. He did not. Mandalorians respected power in whatever form it manifested.

"You connect to flame," he observed quietly. "Then perhaps this is the most appropriate place for us to meet."

The firelight reflected in his dark eyes as he studied her more openly now. Not assessing. Appreciating.

When she turned the question back to him, he rolled the glass gently between his fingers before answering.

"For me, it is honesty," he said at last. "Whiskey does not pretend to be anything other than what it is. It burns if you are careless. It demands patience if you wish to enjoy it properly. And if you rush it, it will punish you."

A faint smile touched his lips again.

"It is a drink for people who understand restraint."

He took a slow sip, allowing the burn to travel down before continuing.

"And there is something about sharing it with someone who can handle it. It means they are strong, and have an incredible will."

His gaze held hers now, steady and unapologetic.

"You mentioned it has been a long time. That tells me this is not something you do lightly." His tone remained calm, but there was an undercurrent of respect beneath it. "I do not take that lightly either."

He leaned back slightly, giving her space while maintaining connection.

"So, Dreidi," he continued, voice lowering just a fraction, "What made you decide now was the right time? Also, tell me more about you."

 

[Warpriest Prime]

​

O B J E C T I V E | Challenge Love to a Fist Fight
L O C A T I O N | Speed Dating In Style
G E A R | Summer Belle Outfit

Vestra Tane

O P E N​

Koboh glittered like it had decided romance was a competitive sport.

Lanterns floated above the Zinder courtyard in warm constellations, string lights woven through polished railings and blooming flora. Music threaded through the open air, something playful and just a little indulgent. Drinks flowed freely from hovering trays. Laughter spilled from clustered tables where strangers leaned in close, chasing sparks like gamblers chasing jackpots.

And then there was Dima.

Freshened up. Polished. Almost painfully cute.

Her armor had been traded for something softer, though it still clung to her like a warning label. Hair brushed and braided with delicate care. A faint shimmer of gloss along her lips. She moved with measured grace through the bustling booths and heart-shaped signage, a lethal silhouette wrapped in earnest effort. Heads turned. Some stared. Some pretended not to.

She did not notice.

Her face was buried in her datapad.

Left.
Left.
Left.
Left.

Her nose scrunched.

"Absolutely not." Swipe. "You look like you chew loudly." Swipe. "Are those...frosted tips?" Swipe.

And that was saying something. Coming from her.

But then her claw paused.

Right.

Oh. Oh.

Boys with biceps the size of her thunderous thighs. Yes please. Girls with smiles that could melt the frost walls lining her heart. Immediately. And the delicious, dangerous everything-in-betweens that made her stomach flutter in confused little somersaults. She swiped right with increasing enthusiasm, tail swaying gently behind her as the ambient glow of the courtyard reflected in her five attentive eyes.

Then the app chimed.

A match!

Her breath hitched as she quickly buried her face back into the radiant screen as those five eyes settled. There she was. Dark hair. Sharp features. A gaze that could carve poetry into stone.

Dima froze mid-step, nearly colliding with a passing couple before awkwardly sidestepping toward one of the empty speed dating tables. No drink beside her. A tragedy. A crime, honestly.

Her claws curled into her hair as she stared at the screen, lips parting slightly.

"Vestra..." she purred under her breath, tracing the edge of the image with careful reverence. For a creature built for war, she suddenly looked terribly unsure what to do with her hands. And terribly hopeful, as she grinned impishly and fawned at the picture of her first match of the day.

 

[Aliénor Denau]

Objective: 1
Outfit- Alchemsit Attire
Tag: Eira Dyn


Arriving to this planet, Aliénor would find herself surrounded by various new faces. Many of which she had never seen before since her travels often were with other humans. But upon meeting Eira, a charming woman who wished to take her to this Zinder event, Aliénor was thrusted into a new environment. Zinder apparently was an event for love, or for those trying to seek love. Various games or booths held certain activities for patrons to enjoy and take part of. Aliénor had never been to an event like this, and thus her attire while formal obviously appeared to be more academic rather than having an emphasis on flair. For a fashion designer prodigy, she sure didn't dress like it.

Eira, her partner, for the evening was stunning in the black dress she wore. Aliénor found herself stealing shy or nervous glances at it, The design was simple but it did not need to be extravagant. No Eira provided enough of that on her own. Aliénor did wonder how did she manage to catch the eye of this beautiful woman, whom only introduced herself to her mere days ago at a function on Ghorman. When she was asked about the event, Aliénor gave a small shrug of her shoulders.

"I do think it is quite nice yes. To build a representation of your love or perhaps new love. A way to give such an invisible feeling form. This would be fun to do." she says quietly. "As for what to do start or begin with...well that w-would depend on both of us yes? This is us trying to get to know each other better..so we make something based off of that?"

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren had been watching him almost as closely as he had been watching her, though she did so without the obvious curiosity or distraction that might have betrayed her focus. She observed him in that quiet, peripheral manner she reserved for the things that truly mattered to her, carefully taking in the subtle shifts in his posture and the way his shoulders finally relaxed once he found his steady rhythm. She noted the precise moment his breathing changed as he became fully absorbed in his task, recognizing the same singular focus she had witnessed before, in the heat of battle and the depths of meditation. Seeing that intensity turned toward something so gentle and creative felt unexpectedly intimate, drawing her into his process in a way she hadn't anticipated.

When he finally set the block down, she did not speak right away, choosing instead to let the silence linger as she processed the work before her. She leaned in slowly, being careful not to disturb the delicate shavings scattered across the table, while her gaze traced the carved stars, the textured darkness, and the moon resting at the very center of the piece. Her fingers hovered over the wood for a long moment before she finally allowed herself to make contact, brushing lightly along the surface to feel the intricate grooves and raised edges beneath her skin. There was something profoundly reverent in her touch, as though she were afraid that moving too quickly might cause the fragile meaning behind the gift to slip away forever.

Her breath left her in a quiet, almost inaudible exhale that seemed to release the tension she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Varin…" she murmured softly, her voice barely a whisper against the quiet of the room.

She looked up at him then, making no attempt to hide the emotions swirling in her eyes, which revealed a mixture of genuine surprise and something far deeper and more unguarded.

"You didn't just carve a picture," she said after a moment, her voice remains low and steady as she found the words she needed. "You carved exactly how you see me."

Her thumb traced the edge of the moon with slow, careful deliberation, as if she were memorizing the shape of his perspective.

"No one has ever done something like that for me before," she admitted quietly, the weight of the confession hanging in the air between them.

She gave a small, almost breathless laugh that carried far more raw emotion than it did humor, shaking her head slightly at the realization.

"I spend so much of my time trying not to be seen at all, trying to stay hidden within the shadows and remain entirely unnoticed by the world," she continued, her vulnerability surfacing through her words.

Her gaze lifted to meet his once again, locking onto him with a newfound intensity.

"And yet you look at me like this," she said, gesturing gently toward the detailed carving on the table, "as if I am something truly worth studying and worth understanding."

She swallowed hard once, then reached out to lightly rest her hand over his, where it still remained near the wooden block.

"It's beautiful," she said simply, her voice filled with conviction. "Not because it's perfect in its execution, but because it's entirely honest."

Her fingers curled around his a little more firmly, not pressing tightly, but enough to make the touch feel intentional and meaningful.

"And I think you see me more clearly than I see myself sometimes," she added, her voice softening into a gentle, melodic tone.

She picked up the block with great care, holding it between both of her hands now as if it were something incredibly fragile and precious that might break if she let go.

"I'm going to keep this," Seren said quietly, her eyes fixed on the carving. "I'm going to keep it always."

Then she looked back at him, a small and genuinely sincere smile forming on her face for the first time.

"And for the record," she added, a distinct warmth threading through her tone, "you absolutely topped mine."

Her thumb brushed against his knuckles in a single, gentle motion that conveyed more than words ever could.

"Because you didn't just make something for me," she finished, her gaze soft and full of meaning. "You actually showed me how you feel."
Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He watched her as she sat in a short extended silence. At first he grew nervous that she did not like what he saw, his heart thudding in his chest with a slight flurry of beats until finally she ran her fingers over the carving. A delicate motion that he paid attention to, something he came to learn from her. A silent appraisal. A smile formed on his face as she said his name.

He sat in silence as she processed and spoke her words, came to her realizations, But Varin could only convey so much of what he felt for her within the carving. He still felt like it was not enough. His eyes looked directly into hers when she admitted that no one had done this for her.

“The carving can only convey so much of how I feel for you.”

He paused and gently wrapped his fingers around hers.

“I..”

He chuckled lightly, a breath leaving him as he tried to contain his emotions.

“The moon to me is not just looked at to be studied, but to also be admired for its beauty.”

He looked down at both carvings, the one that she made of him and its representation of control, then the one he made of her a representation of some deep feeling that has only dug further into him since he first came across it.

“I feel I should tell you how I feel about you…us?”

He gently pulled her hand over to his, both of his hands gently wrapping around hers tracing small circles over her hand as he thought about his words carefully. His hands gently began to tremble and for a bit it would seem like for once his hands were clammy.

“I didn’t top yours.”

He smiled softly.

“Two different perspectives of one another, can’t be measured.”

His gaze gently lifted to her.

“I have been told of this feeling before. The feeling of a bond so deep that the consequences that come are still worth enduring. A deep love for one another.”

He turned his body so he faced her more fully, his voice speaking softly.

“I didn’t believe them at first that anyone would take such a risk…”

He looked at her hands.

“She told me of this deep connection she shares with someone, and the feeling that follows with it, though scary-”

He softly cleared his throat as he looked back at her again, fighting through the nervousness and the fear to find the best words he could for her.

He shook his head.

“I’m terrible at this.”

He laughed with an exhale, like a breath.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

He looked at her, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“With you, I feel the risks would be worth it, if…if you would have me.”

His hands trembled around hers.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren went very still when he finished speaking, though it was not the stillness of someone pulling away or the paralysis of fear taking hold of her. Instead, it was because the immense weight of what he was offering settled fully into her chest, warm, frightening, and impossibly real all at once, leaving her needing a quiet moment just to breathe around the sensation before she trusted herself to respond.

She felt his hands trembling around hers and noticed it immediately, struck by the quiet, involuntary shake in someone who was usually so controlled and grounded in every other part of his life. Seeing him stand there with nothing but honesty and hope between them did not make her hesitate; rather, it softened something deep and guarded inside her. Her free hand lifted slowly and came to rest over his, stilling them with a gentle certainty that sought to ground him in the same way he had grounded her so many times before.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but unwavering. "Varin…"

She held his gaze for a long moment, really looking at him as if she were trying to memorize this version of him. Not the warrior or the commander others whispered about, but simply the man who cared enough to risk his heart in front of her.

"I think you are asking me if I am willing to choose you," she said softly, her words measured and sincere. "Not just in moments like this, when everything feels close and warm and safe, but in the difficult ones too, when fear and doubt and distance make everything harder."

She drew in a slow breath to steady herself, acknowledging that what he was asking was a much bigger thing than a simple answer. Her gaze softened as she looked at him.

"You are offering me something real: commitment, trust, and a future that isn't written yet. One you are willing to walk into without knowing the end, as long as I am beside you."

She shifted closer until their knees brushed, the contact small but heavy with meaning.

"I will not pretend that does not scare me," she admitted honestly, her voice low and unguarded, "because it does."

There was no shame in the confession; it was simply the truth of her heart.

"I have spent most of my life learning how to survive on my own. How to leave when I had to, how to stand without leaning too hard on anyone, and how to make sure that nothing became so important that losing it would undo me."

Her voice softened further as the gravity of his request took hold.

"And yet, here you are, asking me to finally let you matter."

She lifted his hands gently and pressed them against her chest, letting him feel the steady, thrumming rhythm of her heart beneath her ribs.

"So let me be just as honest with you," she said, her eyes locking onto his. "I am not ready to promise you forever: not yet, not in formal vows or words meant to last a lifetime."

Sensing the slightest shift in him, she tightened her grip to ensure he understood she wasn't retreating.

"But I am ready to promise you this: I am choosing you."

"I am choosing you not because it is safe or easy, or because I know exactly where this path leads, but because when I am with you, I do not feel like I am losing myself. I feel like I am finally becoming more of who I truly am."

She leaned forward until her forehead rested lightly against his, her breath warm in the small space between them.

"I want to keep walking with you," she whispered. "I want to keep learning you, growing with you, and choosing you even on the days when it is frightening and uncertain and complicated."

A small, sincere smile finally curved her lips as her thumb brushed over his knuckles.

"So, if what you are asking is whether I would have you...then yes. Without hesitation."

She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering there for a long moment before pulling back just enough to look at him again.

"Just...let us build it slowly, Varin," Seren murmured. "Together."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He was quiet for a long moment, mulling over his words and hers.

“I don’t think we are ready for formal vows or a celebration. Not yet.”

He breathed slowly.

“Hopefully in the future. But..”

He thought for a moment.

“We both have spent time learning to live on our own. To leave when we deemed necessary. Independence.”

The word clung to the air.

“I’m not asking for you to give that up, or to be dependent on me. A lifetime is a long time in many cases.”

He paused thinking really hard on his next words, thinking carefully, his fingers gently tightening over her hand as she ran her finger over his.

“I don’t wish to be with or find anyone else besides you.”

He looked her in the eyes.

“If I am honest, the thought of even speaking to another woman terrifies me. Always has.”

He chuckled lightly, before looking back down at their hands then back at her.

“So let's build this slowly. Give us time to grow closer, and perhaps, who knows. Something more could happen.”

A curve of a smile came to his face when he peered down to the carvings, he gently took the carving she made for him in his hands, admiring it closer.

“I don’t get to cherish a lot of things. But I will be keeping this, along with this moment.”

His thumb gently ran over the carved edges and the fine details of what she had made for him. His eyes scanned over its surface, every attention to detail she put in, every amount of effort. And she made it for him.

“Seren…I”

He started, before hesitating just for a moment to really figure out if this is truly what he was feeling, what he wanted or needed to say.

Just so you are aware, boy. No matter what kind of fancy flourish of words you put behind it, it will always sound cheesy.

He let out a chuckle, soft, quiet, like a breath.

“I’ve fallen for you.”

He looked back at her again.

“And I think it’s your fault, not that I mind, truly. It's likely mine.”

The final phrase coming out as a light stammered jest, an attempt to ;ighten the heaviness of the topic, or his way to cope with what he was feeling, it was unknown to him. But the words could not be contained within him any longer.

“...I have fallen…”

Love?

He took a deep shaky breath.

“I have fallen in love with you.”

He willed the words out of his mind and mouth to her, daring to finally speak it into existence as his fingers clamped around his own thigh, as if he was struggling not only mentally with saying it but physically, before he finally breathed deep.

“I just wanted to at least actually say it tonight.”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren did not respond right away, but it was not for a lack of hearing him or a failure to comprehend the gravity of his confession. Instead, the words "I have fallen in love with you" struck her with unanticipated force, settling deep in the center of her chest like something both breathtaking and destabilizing, as though the very atmosphere around them had grown heavier, warmer, and far more fragile.

The fingers that had been resting lightly against his stilled completely as her breath caught, shallow and quiet, before she even realized her lungs had ceased their rhythm. When she finally lifted her gaze to meet his, the shock reflected in her eyes was unmistakable, open, and entirely unguarded; it was not a look of disbelief or doubt, but rather a profound awe at the sheer weight of the trust he had just placed in her hands. She was moved by the raw vulnerability vibrating in his voice and the way he had spoken those words as though the admission had cost him something vital and real.

"Varin…"

Her voice emerged softer than she had intended, barely more than a ghost of a breath that hung in the silence between them. She searched the planes of his face with an intensity that suggested she was trying to ensure this wasn't merely a fleeting moment of emotion that might dissolve if she dared to acknowledge it too directly. Yet, the sentiment did not fade; if anything, the reality of his affection only seemed to solidify the longer she looked at him, grounding them both in that shared space.

"You..." she began, exhaling a long, slow breath before trying again. "You did not have to say that as if it were a confession of something you were terrified to lose."

Almost without conscious thought, her free hand rose and hovered near his arm for a heartbeat before finally settling there, her touch light and tentative as though she were afraid that any sudden movement might startle the honesty right out of the air.

"I am more than a little overwhelmed right now," she admitted quietly, a profound honesty threading through every syllable she uttered. "Not in a way that is negative, but in a way that feels incredibly, dauntingly real."

She glanced down briefly to gather the scattered pieces of her composure, then looked back up at him with eyes wide and bright, filled with a chaotic swirl of emotions she couldn't yet begin to sort into neat categories.

"No one has ever said those words to me in quite that way before," she continued, her voice gaining a fraction of strength. "It has never been offered without a hidden expectation, or without an attempt to rush me into a future I wasn't ready for, or without asking for more of myself than I was prepared to give."

Her thumb began to brush slowly against the fabric of his sleeve, a rhythmic motion meant to ground her in the physical reality of his presence.

"And yet you simply said it," she murmured, the realization bringing a fresh wave of heat to her chest. "You said it because it was the truth living inside you, and because you simply wanted me to know the heart of the man standing before me."

A long, heavy pause stretched between them, filled only by the sound of their shared breathing. Then, in a voice that was barely a whisper:

"That scares me."

Despite the admission of fear, she did not pull away; if anything, she leaned into him slightly, her shoulder brushing against his as if seeking the very comfort she was afraid to fully claim.

"It scares me because it matters so deeply," she added, her gaze softening as the initial shock began to dissolve into something much deeper and more vulnerable. "And it matters because you matter to me."

Meeting his eyes without flinching, she allowed him to see the conflict and the affection warring behind her amber gaze. "I am not ready to say those words back to you yet, and I need you to know that isn't because I don't feel the weight of this connection—you know as well as I do that I feel it."

Her fingers tightened faintly on his arm, her grip anchoring her. "But it is because those words carry a sense of permanence for me, and I refuse to utter them until I am absolutely certain I can stand behind them without a single shadow of a doubt."

With agonizing slowness, she reached up and cupped his cheek with a careful tenderness, her thumb coming to rest just beneath his eye to trace the warmth of his skin.

"But please hear me when I say that I am not running away, and I am certainly not closing myself off from what we are building," she whispered.

A small, shaky breath escaped her. A sound that was half-laugh and half-disbelief at the turn her life had taken. "You truly just caught me completely off my guard," she admitted, her forehead finally coming to rest lightly against his. "And somehow, in spite of the fear," she added in a quiet, reverent tone, "I am so very glad you did."

She remained there with him, close and steady in the silence, letting the profound weight of the moment exist exactly as it was without trying to rush or refine it into anything else.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

“I would only want you to say it when you are ready.”

He spoke softly as his fingers brushed back her hair behind her ear, then rested his forehead over hers. His other hand resting on her leg right by him.

“I just needed to say it once.”

He gently kissed her forehead and pulled her close into a gentle warm embrace.

“You matter to me as well.”

He took a deep breath as his heart pounded in his chest.

“I don’t need you to say it back, not right now. What I needed was for you to hear it from me.”

He chuckled with her at her remark and looked at her. Taking in her emotions that set in her eyes and her face.

“Sometimes I catch myself off guard. But I want you to know, I say this without any expectations from you. Though I do like it when you let me hold you.”

He briefly gave her a soft smile and then looked around them, looking at some of the other couples who were finishing up their wittlings and looking at their hard works.

“Thank you.”

He spoke softly, almost through a breath rather than with his voice.

“For listening to me, for helping me. For…staying.”

He looked at their hands.

“I was told…that the fear we feel about this feeling.”

He looked back at her once again, looking her in the eyes.

“It’s worth it.”

He took a shallow breath.

“I am willing to build whatever we need for us. Whether it’s trust, time or something else. But I want you to understand, I hold no expectations from you. You aren’t a prisoner or a pet. You are your own being, I would not take that from you.”

He slowly raised her hand to his lips with a gentle and intimate sincerity.

“I am not running from you or this either. Just as you wish to grow with me, I would love that with you too. So let's build that, together.”

He looked her deeply into her eyes, as the sounds and time around them seemed to cease. The conversations around them to him were silent, all there was for him now, was her.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren remained perfectly still within the protective circle of his arms for several long heartbeats after his voice finally trailed off, looking as though she were allowing every single word to settle into the very marrow of her bones before she permitted herself to offer a response. The radiating warmth of his embrace, the steady, grounding rhythm of his breathing, and the quiet, unwavering certainty in his voice all wrapped around her, in a way that felt both profoundly comforting and dangerously easy to surrender to.

When she finally shifted her weight, it was not with the intent to pull away or reestablish the distance that usually defined her interactions.

Instead, she adjusted her posture just enough to look up at him properly, her palm resting lightly against the center of his chest where the vibrant, rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat was unmistakable beneath her touch. It was fast, strong, and undeniably real—a living anchor in the middle of the world's cold uncertainty. Her eyes searched the familiar landscape of his face with a piercing intensity, as if she were still meticulously ensuring that he truly meant every syllable he had spoken to her.

She exhaled a long, slow breath that seemed to carry the last of her hesitations away with it.

"Varin…"

There was no trace of shock left in her voice now, only a raw and quiet honesty that stripped away her usual academic veneer.

"You truly have no idea how rare it is to hear a person say all of those things without simultaneously attempting to claim ownership of me in the process," she said, her voice barely a whisper against the air. "Without trying to forge feelings into a set of heavy, suffocating chains meant to bind me to their side."

Her thumb began to trace a small, absent circle against the fabric over his chest, a grounding gesture intended to keep her present in the gravity of the moment.

"I have spent the vast majority of my life watching people fundamentally confuse the concept of love with the impulse for control," she continued, her gaze darkening with the weight of that realization. "Confusing it with a sense of obligation, or with a set of rigid expectations that eventually serve to suffocate a person instead of offering them actual support."

Her gaze softened perceptibly as she looked back into his eyes, her features losing their guarded edge.

"And yet you stood there and told me that you love me, only to immediately remind me that I am still entirely my own person, beholden to no one but myself."

A faint, breathy laugh escaped her, a sound of genuine wonder that was rare for a woman of her discipline.

"That realization alone makes me want to stay by your side more than any demand ever could."

She rested her forehead against his again, mirroring his earlier gesture of closeness, while her voice dropped to an even lower, more intimate murmur.

"You make space for the totality of me," she whispered into the small gap between them. "You make space for my deepest doubts, for my lingering fears, and for the fragmented parts of me that are still clumsily learning how to trust something this substantial and real."

She lifted her head slightly, just enough to catch his gaze once more.

"And I want you to understand that I do not take that kind of grace lightly."

Her fingers tightened with a gentle, deliberate strength around his own.

"I am still not ready to promise you everything," she said softly, echoing the fierce honesty that had defined their bond from the start. "Not yet—not in the kind of grand, sweeping words that are intended to last a lifetime."

Then, with a tenderness that seemed to radiate from her very center:

"But I am ready and willing to promise you this."

She leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the line of his cheek, savoring the warmth of his skin for a long moment before finally pulling back.

"I am choosing you," she repeated, her voice quieter now but filled with an iron-clad intent. "I am choosing you every single day. On purpose. With full awareness."

Her lips curved into a small, sincere smile that reached all the way to her amber eyes.

"And I find that I am finally willing to be brave enough to see exactly where that choice leads us."

She brushed her thumb beneath his eye, mirroring the touch he had offered her, a silent seal on the path they were now walking together.

"So yes," she whispered, her presence merging seamlessly with his. "Let us build it. Slowly. Carefully. Together."

She stayed close against him, no longer because she required a harbor to protect her, but simply because she wanted to be held by him.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

​

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

Dreidi nodded her head, it was good that was the first time in a while for someone else. It made it feel like daunting for Dreidi and there didn't feel like a weight dangling over her head of expectations or standards that she needed to be achieving with this date. Dreidi had no clue how dates usually went for people using Zinder but she was someone who normally went very slow. Probably too slow considering that previous potential partners vanished or lost interest in her before she ever found the courage to say something.

Taking a sip of her drink, Dreidi looked over to the bonfire, Dreidi smirked and shrugged her shoulders. "One could say that I planned where to meet well and leaning into my interests." A teasing tone to her voice as she looked over to him. Hearing his views on the beverage, she nodded her head, understanding the approach and the honest views on the drink. It was a blunt honest answer while Dreidi went with one that leaned more into the artistic and symbolic views. That had been her interpretation of their answers.

"As I stated in my profile, my priorities tend to lean elsewhere. My happiness for many years came from the time spent with my son. I did not need another person in my life." It was feeling less now that Aileni was gone and training as a Jedi. Dreidi knew that she needed to find someone to enjoy the smaller elements of life with. Especially after hearing her sister was exploring such things and seeing her friends all connecting and bonding.

She did feel more alone than she cared to admit at times.

"I just figured I would see what was out there, I suppose. Get an idea of what the dating landscape looked like now. After all these years." Dreidi mentioned as she leaned back against the bar and drank more of her whisky. "What is it that you wish to know? A very open question there so I could share all kinds of dangerous information that scares you away." Dreidi smirked to him.

 

[Lumiya Dara]

Objective: 2

The evening has gone on longer than I expected. Laughter drifts from the other tables; both soft and low, punctuated by the clink of glasses and the scrape of chairs. The room hums with possibility. Just… not mine.

I chose this seat carefully. Back straight. Hands relaxed in my lap. A polite smile when appropriate. I have not fidgeted. I have not stared toward the entrance. I have certainly not checked the time more than once. It has only been a couple of hours. But that feels long enough. The ice in my glass has melted into something thin and sweet, and I swirl it absently before setting it aside.

For a fleeting moment something tightens in my chest. It wasn't anger. Nor embarrassment. It was just a quiet wondering. Is there something about me that makes them avoid me? I draw in a slow breath before the thought can take root. I have never been someone who begs for attention, nor will I begin to do so now. Still… I had hoped.

I smooth my attire as I rise. Every movement both deliberate and composed. Anyone watching would see nothing but calm assurance. A woman entirely in control of her evening. And I am. Connection should not require pursuit. Nor should it demand that I wait endlessly for someone to gather their nerve. As no one has joined my table tonight, then perhaps my path lies elsewhere. I cast one last thoughtful glance across the room, picturing what could of been but wasn't, and then turn toward the exit.

I do not look back. I do not have to.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He felt her hand press up to his chest and his hand gently placed on top of hers. He listened to every word she spoke to him, remaining silent so as not to interrupt the fragile, quiet moment they shared.

He savored every touch she gifted him, the kiss, the hand holding, every bit of it. As cherished as a treasury to a wealthy king, locked into a vault that was his memories, along with her words. Every word she uttered he knew rang with truth behind them. Though she was scared, she still told him how she really felt. Honesty, to Varin, is something deeply cherished as well.

“Most tend to control their loved one out of fear of losing them. The chains bind tightly, so tight that it suffocates and kills what they struggled so hard to breathe life into.”

He gently kissed her head as she leaned into him.

“I don’t want that to happen.”

He looked down at his pack that still held a few more items he wanted to share with her.

“I brought something for us.”

He slowly reached into his bag pulling out two fancy goblets.

“I tried bringing glass and they….well they broke. So we are getting fancy tonight.”

He then pulled out a fancy glass bottle of dark wine. He turned it around in his hand to glance at the label.

“I don’t know much about wines if I’m honest, so I chose the darker one. Corellian Wine”

He opened the bottle and started to pour some into her cup first, then his.

“Supposedly it's really sweet.”

He looked down at her with a smile.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren watched him in quiet amusement as he pulled the goblets from his pack, her brows lifting just slightly in surprise before a soft, genuine smile curved her lips. There was something deeply endearing about the care he had taken, about the way he had clearly planned this moment without making it feel forced or performative.

When he mentioned the broken glass, she let out a quiet breath of laughter, warm and unguarded.

"That sounds about right," she murmured gently. "You try to be elegant, and the galaxy immediately reminds you who is in charge."

Her gaze followed his hands as he poured the wine, noticing, not for the first time, how careful he was with her in small, unconscious ways. Always her first. Always thoughtful. Always present.

When he offered her the goblet, she accepted it with both hands for a moment, their fingers brushing lightly in the exchange.

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice carrying more meaning than the words alone suggested.

She studied the dark liquid for a second, then lifted her eyes back to his, her expression open and sincere.

"You know…this…this is exactly what I meant earlier."

At his questioning look, she tilted her head slightly, her thumb brushing absently along the rim of the cup.

"You're choosing something for us. Not to impress anyone. Not to prove anything. Just… because you wanted to share a moment with me."

Her smile softened.

"That matters more than whether it is the best wine in the galaxy."

She lifted the goblet slightly, hesitating just long enough to meet his gaze fully.

"To us," she said simply. "And to learning how to do this without chains."

She took a small sip, then blinked in mild surprise, a quiet laugh escaping her.

"…Okay," she admitted, smiling wider now, "that is actually really good."

Her free hand reached out, fingers brushing lightly against his wrist, lingering there.

"And for the record," she added in a low, gentle voice, "I do not feel suffocated with you. I feel… safe. And seen. And free."

She leaned just a little closer, their shoulders nearly touching.

"I think that is rare," Seren whispered. "And I am very glad it is ours."

Varin Mortifer

 

[Eira Dyn]

​

Objective: 1
Outfit: Black Dress
Tag: Aliénor Denau

It was always fun when Eira was able to coax others out of their shell. Allowing them to become more than they might have originally believed they could be. Whether or not they realised that Eira was doing that or if they assumed that Eira was controlling what they could do and what they were not allowed to do. For Eira this was a test to see how much she could get away with in terms of building the confidence with Aliénor and seeing what a confident version that person could do. The power that could grow.

"Love. Passion. Desire. All the same thing. Giving a physical representation of that could be very illustrious connection could be something that bond us for life." Eira moved in closer to Aliénor with a devilish grin on her full lips, "I am keen to see what you make of such a prospect." Eira waved her hand and used the Force to move the wood and tools towards them. Making no physical effort to wander around and explore. She far more keen on spending the time with Aliénor and learning more of what the alchemist was like, what she enjoyed and what she felt was important to Eira. Leaning on the table, Eira looked at Aliénor with a focused study.

"We can do that. How about you state something important you desire from this relationship? We build a spoon dedicated to what we desire the future to be. Not what it is currently." Eira suggested, her well trimmed nails tapping gently against the table. Eira was a predator always, but she did enjoy teasing and playing with her food at times. Making them squirm from the intensity of her gaze. Of the desire that she built through the tension that filled the silences. "Start us off Aliénor."

Eira gave a wink.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Varin smiled at her remark of gentleness.

“The galaxy loves to remind me that I'm not a gentle person.”

He chuckled.

When she took her goblet the slight brushing of their fingers brought a smaller smile out of him as he gave her a nod.

“Of course.”

He looked down at his drink as she did, then her next words pulled his attention back to her. His brow arched along with a slight tilt of his head.

He watched as she clarified what she meant, reminding him once again of some of his habits that he tended to do absentmindedly. His hand gently rested on her leg.

“I always want to share the moment with you. It's a curse really.”

He chuckled softly before he thought about what he said.

“I mean…not like a bad curse…more like a…hm…”

He thought for a moment.

“That really did sound a lot better in my head.”

He shifted a bit in his seat beside her, keeping the slight contact. When she raised her cup he raised his with her.

“To these moments.”

He spoke softly then took a small sip. The taste hitting his tongue with a very unfamiliar and surprising flavor.

“Huh…so that is what wine tastes like.”

She leaned in closer to him, clarifying and reinforcing how she felt about his way of being with her. It brought a massive relief to him, a weight seemed to roll off his shoulders and a soft sigh left him.

“I am happy to hear that. I was worried for a while.”

He looked down at their cups.

“I am very happy that it is ours as well.”

His finger gently tapped his cup.

“I am also happy that we can share tonight together. Enjoy a small hobby that can turn into something much bigger in meaning for us.”

He looked back at her.

“Thank you again for coming. It means a lot to me.”

He spoke softly to her, just to her.

Seren Gwyn​