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

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren listened to him with the kind of quiet, unwavering attentiveness she reserved only for the rare moments when he truly let his guard down. Her posture remained relaxed, yet her focus was entirely anchored to him, tracking the way he stumbled slightly over his own words as he tried to untangle his deeper meaning from the sounds he actually made. It was a humanizing struggle that drew a soft, genuine smile from her lips. One that arrived before she had the thought to restrain it.

She lifted her goblet, turning it slowly so the dark liquid caught the flickering light of the festival, then glanced back at him with eyes that had grown unmistakably warm.

"The galaxy does not get to decide who you are, Varin," she said gently, her voice a low, steady anchor in the evening air. "It is a vast, unseeing thing that only perceives what you choose to let it see."

As she spoke, her fingers shifted with deliberate grace, brushing lightly against his. It wasn't the accidental contact of two people sharing a space, but a purposeful reaching out, a silent tether.

"And with me," she continued, her voice dropping to a soft, intimate register, "you are gentle. You are thoughtful. You possess a capacity to notice the small, vital things that most people would walk past without a second thought."

At his mention of the "curse," she let out a quiet, breathy laugh that seemed to vibrate with affection, shaking her head faintly as if to dispel the weight of the word.

"I understood exactly what you meant," Seren assured him, her tone far more tender than teasing. "You have a hunger for being present. You prefer sharing a moment to the safety of standing apart from it. That isn't a flaw, and it certainly isn't a curse."

She leaned in just a fraction more, allowing the warmth of her shoulder to brush against his arm, bridging the small distance remaining between them. "It is, in truth, one of the things I have come to like most about you."

When he admitted to his lingering worry, her expression softened into something deeply protective, a flicker of sincere devotion lighting her gaze. "You never have to spend your energy wondering if I feel trapped by you," she said, the words carrying the weight of a vow. "If anything, the opposite is true. You make space for me: a place to simply exist without expectation. You always have."

She lifted her cup to her lips, taking a small sip and wincing just slightly at the sharp, unfamiliar vintage before a small, self-deprecating smile broke through.

"I think the taste is finally growing on me," she admitted softly, her eyes locking onto his with unguarded sincerity. "Though I suspect it is simply because of the association. I find I like most things when they are tied to you."

She let her free hand come to rest lightly over his, where it lay on her leg, her touch grounding and surprisingly warm. "I am truly glad I came tonight. Not for the wine, or the quality of the carving, or even the spectacle of the festival itself."

She gave his hand a faint, reassuring squeeze, her voice barely a murmur. "I am glad because being here with you, exactly like this…it feels right. It feels like a rare thing, and something very much worth keeping."

She raised her goblet once more, a silent salute between just the two of them.

"To us," she murmured.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Varin Mortifer]

He looked down at his hands as he exhaled softly.

“No it does not get to decide who I am. But it does play a part in how I am built. I don't see that as a bad thing. If you don't allow yourself to be carved by your choices that are dealt to you then you would be as plain as those blocks of wood. Yet so full of potential.”

He gestured to the blocks on the table then down to the carvings near them. His hand eased into her touch as his thumb slid up and down her leg.

“thats also a relief that you understand what I meant.”

He chuckled a bit nervously.

“I don't think I would like to wear the wine that you're drinking, as much as I think the color would look good on me.”

He went quiet for a moment, as she spoke of his fear. A silent nod as his response as he responded in a hushed voice.

“That makes me happy to hear. One thing that I had always noticed about you is how you never shy away from me, nor do you show fear. Most people look at the runes and my stature and usually they walk fast away. I suppose the armor doesn't help though.”

He smirked, before taking another sip of wine. The taste shocking his tongue pulling a slight grimace from his face.

“I may need a few more sips before it starts growing on me.”

His eyes met hers, unguarded from the closeness of her company.

“Perhaps I can bring something better next time. Maybe one day I can find something you don't like.”

He smiled.

Smooth, boy.

Ignati's sarcastic remark echoed in his head, forgotten in the background.

His hand gently squeezed hers as she spoke, he listened. Letting every word fall into him.

“Sometimes I feel a clarity when I have these moments with you. Like for once the pieces can and do fit. Right now I don't have to worry or think about orders or training regiments. I don't feel like I have to occupy my mind. I feel I can be me. I am glad we came here tonight. To share more pieces of us.”

He gently raised his goblet with her and spoke with her in a quiet voice.

“To us.”

He took a sip again and the nervousness of his body had caused the heat to warm his cup and his drink. After he took the sip his head shook and a sour look came upon his face.

“Note to self, goblets heat very easily. Also side note, I do not like warm wine.”

He laughed quietly, setting his cup down.

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Jaren Kast]

Wearing:
Lightsabre​

OBJECTIVE 3

The bonfire roared like something alive, a towering column of flame that clawed at the Koboh sky and painted every face in molten gold. Music pulsed around it, laughter rose in waves, and the scent of spiced liquor and smoke hung thick in the air. Couples drifted in and out of the firelight, hands brushing, eyes lingering, as if the legend itself had returned to walk among them.

Aegon stood at the edge of it all and felt, with increasing certainty, that this had been a catastrophic miscalculation.

He had only just acquired the datapad. Credits too, scraped together with more instinct than planning. His first act of initiative in a galaxy that felt perpetually hostile had been to swipe through faces on a dating application. He had done it with the same focus he might give to selecting a weapon, assessing angles, posture, eyes. Practical. Controlled. Detached.

Then someone had matched with him. And now he was here, at a festival devoted entirely to love. The word felt foreign in his mind, like a language he had not yet learned to speak.

He wore no armor tonight, only dark trousers and a sleeveless tunic that left his powerful frame exposed, the red headband bound firmly around his brow as it always was. The flames caught in his hair and turned it copper at the edges. In his hand he held a glass filled with something crimson and effervescent, labeled at the bar as a “Heartflame Elixir.” He had not asked what was in it. The sweetness clung to his tongue and did nothing to steady the strange tension coiling in his chest.

For a man who could not remember his own beginning, diving headfirst into a ritual built on shared futures felt almost obscene.

He moved slowly around the perimeter of the bonfire, circling it as if assessing a battlefield. His eyes scanned faces, not with hunger, not with charm, but with a wary intensity that unsettled more than one passerby. He searched for her. The woman who had swiped right. The stranger whose profile photo had caught his attention for reasons he could not fully articulate.

He did not know what she expected to find when she saw him. He did not know what he was meant to offer.

Laughter burst nearby as a pair of revelers danced too close to the flames, their silhouettes merging against the blaze. Aegon paused, watching the fire leap higher. The legend of the angel and the spacer had been told earlier in the evening. He had listened in silence, arms folded, expression unreadable.

An angel who healed without asking for reward.
A spacer who carved devotion into wood.
A kiss.
A death.
A bonfire that burned for days.​

It sounded like madness. And yet, standing here, heat pressing against his skin, drink sweating in his grip, he felt something unfamiliar tug at him. Not faith. Not belief. Something quieter. A question, perhaps.

If he had been created for a purpose, if he had been engineered as a weapon and then abandoned, was he capable of something beyond destruction? Or was this entire evening proof that he was straying into territory not meant for him?

His jaw tightened. He took another slow sip of the drink and resumed his orbit, shoulders squared, posture unyielding despite the undercurrent of uncertainty threading through him.

He had no memory of how he came into this world. No story carved into wood. No past to present as an offering. But he was here.

In the firelight. In the noise. In the reckless, ridiculous heart of a festival built on a feeling he did not understand.

Whatever awaited him on the other side of this circle, he would face it as he faced everything else, without retreat. For now, he searched the crowd, gaze sharp and steady, stepping deeper into something he could not name, but had chosen to enter all the same.

Torva Vikar​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren watched him as he spoke, really watched him, the way his eyes softened when he talked about being shaped by life, the way his voice shifted when he admitted what these moments meant to him, the way he tried to hide vulnerability behind small jokes and half-smiles. It was something she had come to recognize in him, that balance between strength and openness, between confidence and quiet uncertainty.

A faint smile curved her lips at his comment about being carved by choices, and she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over his wrist in a gentle, grounding touch.

"I think that is exactly why your carving turned out the way it did," she said softly. "It is not perfect, and it is not meant to be. It has depth. History. Intention."

Her gaze flicked briefly to the wooden blocks, then back to him.

"Just like you."

She let out a quiet breath of amusement when he mentioned wearing her wine, her eyes warming.

"I think I would prefer to keep it in the cup," she replied lightly. "It suits you better this way. Less stained. More…dignified."

When he spoke about how people reacted to him, about the runes and the armor and the way others pulled away, her expression softened further. There was no pity in it, only understanding.

"I never saw you as something to be afraid of," she said quietly. "I saw someone who carried a lot, and kept going anyway."

Her thumb brushed lightly over the back of his hand.

"The rest is just…decoration."

She watched him struggle with the wine, amusement flickering in her eyes as he grimaced.

"You are trying very hard to like that," she teased gently. "It is almost heroic."

When he spoke about clarity, about being able to simply exist with her without expectations or burdens, something in her expression shifted. The humor softened into something quieter, more sincere.

She leaned in just a little, close enough that he could feel her presence without it being overwhelming.

"I feel that too," she admitted softly. "With you, I do not have to be 'on' all the time. I do not have to be strong, distant, or careful. I can just…breathe."

Her gaze held his.

"That is rare for me."

She lifted her goblet with his, mirroring the gesture. "To us," she echoed quietly.

After he set his cup down with his dramatic declaration about warm wine, she laughed softly, the sound unguarded.

"Then next time," she said, her voice warm and playful, "we will bring something that survives your body heat."

Her fingers laced gently with his again.

"But…even if it is terrible," she added more softly, "I would still choose to share it with you."

And in the quiet glow of the hearth and distant laughter, she stayed exactly where she was, choosing him in all the small, meaningful ways that mattered.

Varin Mortifer

 

[Torva Vikar]

​

Torva had initially downloaded the Zinder app on her personal device out of boredom, and filled out the dating profile more out of curiosity and amusement than anything. She didn’t expect anyone to find her interesting enough to actually swipe right on her profile - and for a good while, no one did.

Then the Zinder folks put together an event, one that seemed fun and exciting. She tossed her name in, once more out of boredom and a sense of amusement. She didn’t really have the hope or thought that someone might say “oh she looks interesting.”

Que her surprise when someone did swipe right. A few people had, actually. Men and women. Torva had grown up rather…traditional, and so she ignored all the interested ladies who found her interesting - though the red-head had to admit, a good number of them were rather beautiful and quirky and interesting.

A couple of men stood out to her - a handful of supposed Jedi, even fellow Mandalorians. Oh, they were tempting, for sure. Aether would no doubt be proud she was pursuing after another Mando. Well, maybe. He’d become more like a Father figure to her in the time she spent under his watchful eye and guidance. She owed the man everything, and did her best to embrace the culture of the people who called her their own. She struggled at it, sometimes. Felt like she didn’t quite fit in and blamed herself for that. She was reclusive, when she should have been out there, giving her all to her brothers and sisters. Aether had to sometimes push her out the proverbial doors just to get her to interact with other Mandalorians, other Foundlings like herself. So perhaps her stepping out of her comfort zone, and signing up for this damn love festival, was a sign of progress.

And maybe…she would find someone she connected with on the other side of it, and she wouldn’t feel so alone anymore. She hated feeling that way - surrounded by people, yet feeling alone and unseen where it mattered.

While on her way to Koboh, thankfully not too far outside of Mandalorian space, Torva flicked through the various profiles of those who had swiped right on her, though she kept coming back to one of them. A man, older than she was, but whose rugged appearances stood out to her. He seemed rough around the edges, but she’d seen similar things in the Mandalorians she called kin now - and she had learned that appearances were often deceiving. Some of the roughest looking individuals she knew, had the kindest hearts out of them all.

Of course, it had been risky to swipe right on that particular individual - Aegon. But despite the nervous butterflies in her belly - Torva was rather excited to meet him.

That excitement turned to true nervousness when she finally reached Koboh, and followed the directions to the great bonfire where they had agreed to meet. Night had descended, though the fire gave light to a vast area and as she approached the crowds, it also illuminated the faces of those who had gathered. Her eyes, blue and full of searching curiosity and growing anxiousness, roamed over those present…looking for a familiar face amongst the throng.

The irony of the legend surrounding this event, and her current situation, was not lost on her. She had taken some time to read up on the legend of The Angel of the Spacer. This seemed like an excellent way for people to live out the legend, in their own ways. Someone would be searching for their “beauty”, hoping to find them amongst the crowd.

Others clearly had, judging by the longing looks others gave to each other in the firelight as she passed by, low murmured voices whispered against lips, ears or necks even. Torva wasn’t a complete stranger to flirty behaviors exhibited by others, but some of what she saw certainly made a blush creep into her freckled cheeks.

Feeling the nervous jitters start to take control of her more, Torva quietly made her way towards the bar around the great bonfire and ordered a drink - one of the event’s specialties, a spiced wine called Angel’s Kiss, and hoped that it would help settle her a bit before she met her date.

It then dawned on her that she was here, at a Zinder festival, waiting for a fething date she’d never met before in her life, and had agreed to meet from image only…let alone the fact that she’d never been on a date in her life, period.

Her excited butterflies turned to genuinely worried butterflies.

What if…this had all been a huge mistake? ​

Jaren Kast
​

 

[Jaren Kast]

Wearing:
Lightsabre​

OBJECTIVE III - BONFIRE

The bonfire thundered upward in a violent bloom of orange and gold, sparks spiraling into the night like dying stars. Heat rolled outward in steady waves, pressing against skin, stirring hair, tinting everything in restless light. Laughter rose and fell around it. Music threaded through the air. The scent of spiced wine and smoke wrapped itself around the gathering like a living thing.

Aegon completed another slow orbit of the flames.

Each step felt deliberate, measured, yet the rhythm inside his chest was anything but steady. A single thought began to burrow into his mind, quiet at first, then insistent. What if she did not come?

He kept his gaze level, scanning faces as he had done before, but now something sharper edged the motion. Not assessment. Not calculation. Anticipation, tangled with something dangerously close to humiliation. He had placed himself here willingly. Exposed. Unarmored. For a man forged in secrecy and violence, that felt more reckless than stepping into open fire.

If she did not show, he would leave. His eyes flicked to the path he had taken from the landing fields, measuring distance, crowd density, shadowed routes. He could slip through the throng without drawing notice. He had done far more difficult things than disappear from a festival.

He adjusted his grip on the half finished drink in his hand and exhaled slowly through his nose.

This had been foolish.

He was already turning that thought over, already rehearsing the exit in his mind, when he saw her. Not a blur in the crowd. Not a passing impression.

Her.

Red hair catching firelight like living copper. Freckles dusted across pale skin. Blue eyes scanning the gathering with open curiosity and growing nerves. The embers drifting upward seemed to pause around her, as though uncertain whether to rise or fall. His stride faltered.

The Zinder profile had not done her justice.

Images had flattened her into pixels and speculation. Here, beneath the blaze of the bonfire, she was vivid. Real. There was strength in the way she held herself despite the tension coiled in her shoulders. A quiet sincerity in the way she looked at the world around her, as if hoping it would answer kindly.

Excitement struck him first, sharp and unexpected. Then fear, heavier, coiling low in his gut. A hurricane of thought tore through him, doubts colliding with instinct, retreat warring with advance. One word rose above the rest...

Forward.

He set the drink aside on a nearby ledge without realizing he had done so and began to walk toward her. Not with the prowling confidence he carried in battle, but with something slower. Intentional. Controlled, though beneath the surface his pulse hammered with unfamiliar force.

As he closed the distance, the sounds of the festival seemed to dull at the edges. The fire crackled behind him. The crowd blurred into motion and shadow. His focus narrowed until only she remained.

He stopped a respectful distance away. For a fraction of a second, he hesitated.

Then he cleared his throat, the sound low and steady, more to steel himself than to draw attention. A faint smile touched his mouth, restrained but genuine, softening the hard lines of his face just enough to reveal the man beneath the armor he usually wore. He lifted his dominant hand in greeting.

“Hello,” he said, voice deep and measured. “You must be Torva.”

There. Controlled. Simple. And then the next words escaped him before he could intercept them, slipping from thought into air without permission.

“You are very beautiful.”

Silence followed, thick and immediate. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly as realization struck. The admission had not been calculated. It had not been chosen. It had simply leapt forward, as if his mouth had grown impatient with his restraint.

Oh chit.

The words did not leave his lips this time, but they echoed loudly enough in his mind. He held her gaze, shoulders squared despite the internal chaos, refusing to retreat from what he had just said. Heat from the bonfire licked at his back, and for the first time that evening, it was not the flames that threatened to undo him.

Torva Vikar​

 

[Torva Vikar]

Time seemed to slip by - how much, Torva was uncertain. The fire roared and crackled, spitting embers into the sky, and its warmth bathed her with its glow, chasing the chill away - though it did nothing to ease the nervousness that tingled along her skin. She took sips of her drink, undecided on if she actually liked it or not. She’d never been a big fan of alcohol as it was, but it was offered and she figured why not?

The warmth of it settled in her chest, bit by bit. It wasn’t enough to make her hazy or forget where she was, but it certainly helped ease her tensions somewhat. Made her more relaxed - if such a thing was possible.

Torva leaned against an evergreen tree that was just at the edge of the bonfire, still within sight of the masses. She looked down at herself, at the outfit she had decided to wear to this event. A simple blouse and leggings, and a somewhat fashionable utility belt around her hips - on which hung a vibroblade in a sheath. She’d forgone her armor for this - and she wasn’t entirely sure if that had been smart or not.

She felt almost naked without her beskar’gam.

But around her neck hung a cord of leather and a carved mythosaur skull made of some semi-precious stone native to Mandalore. It caught the light of the fire and danced with a natural gleam - the only piece of jewelry the young woman wore. Other than that - her outfit was plain, but flattering to her figure.

The redhead’s focus had been in a different direction when she heard someone clear their throat, which caught her attention and pulled her focus to a man who had approached her - though he still stood some distance away. It took her a minute to recognize him as one of the men whose profile she’d swiped right on.

“Hello. You must be Torva.”

His voice was deep, measured. For a moment, she didn’t respond. All she could do was blink and stare at him - the way the firelight flickered over exposed skin. Pictures did not do him justice - at all. This fellow was…

“You are very beautiful.”

“Oh!” Immediately, she felt her cheeks flush with heat, her pale freckled skin turning bright red when she realized that she’d been ogling him without a shame or care in the world. “I-wait, me?” she gestured as she looked down at herself again then back at him. Her, beautiful? With her wild messy red hair that couldn’t be tamed, and dirt under her nails from work and whatever else?

Oh, and now spilled spiced wine, apparently. “Oh…chit! Ah, I mean-” She sighed. Well this was off to a great start. “Seems I prefer to wear my drinks instead of actually drinking them…”

She glanced up at the rugged, handsome man in front of her, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “Y-yes, I’m Torva. You must be Aegon…?”

Jaren Kast ​

 

[Jaren Kast]

Wearing:
Lightsabre​

OBJECTIVE III - BONFIRE

He had noticed the evergreen the moment he first began circling the fire.

Close enough to the bonfire that the music and laughter carried without strain. Far enough that shadows pooled between trunk and flame, offering a measure of privacy from the crowd’s relentless glow. A liminal space. Not fully within the revelry, not fully apart from it. He could not have chosen a better place to disgrace himself.

And yet, as he stood before her beneath the low hanging branches, he found that he did not wish to retract a single word.

The firelight traced the line of her cheek, caught in her red hair, shimmered against the carved mythosaur at her throat. She looked at him as though he had spoken a language she did not expect to hear. Shock. Confusion. A flush that rose with startling speed across freckled skin.

He met her gaze without retreat. For a fleeting second he braced himself, half expecting the contents of her cup to find his face. It would not have been the first time honesty had been answered with hostility. Instead, she blinked. Stammered. Spilled wine down herself.

Aegon watched the liquid darken the fabric of her blouse and felt something unfamiliar stir in his chest. Not irritation. Not judgment.

Relief.

When she finally found her words and confirmed her name, he swallowed once, steadying himself. The word returned to him like a command carved in stone.

Forward.

The faint smile returned to his mouth, warmer now, less guarded. “No..” he said evenly, allowing a glimmer of dry humor to edge his tone. “I am referring to the other red haired Mandalorian in front of me.”

He held the pause just long enough for the meaning to settle before the corner of his mouth lifted further. He even dared a quiet chuckle, low and rough, surprising himself with the sound. “It seems your nerves are not so different from my own.”

He inclined his head slightly.

“Yes. I am Aegon.”

The admission felt heavier than it should have. A name without history. A banner without a house. Yet he spoke it plainly, as if it had always belonged to him. He drew a slow breath and gestured subtly toward the roaring bonfire, the dancing couples, the bar wrapped in flickering light.

“This...” he said, voice deepening with candor, “...is completely foreign to me. I do not know the first thing about love. Or angels. Or legends carved into spoons.” His gaze flicked briefly toward the flames, then returned to her. “I was not raised on stories like this.”

There was no shame in the statement. Only fact.

“What I do know...” he continued, steadier now, “...is that when I saw you on Zinder, I wanted to know more.”

The words came easier than the first compliment had. Cleaner. Truer. He studied her openly, not as a warrior assessing threat, but as a man trying to understand something new. The mythosaur at her throat. The utility belt. The vibroblade she had not thought to leave behind. The way she had forgone armor and yet still carried Mandalore with her.

The smile at his lips widened by a fraction. He lifted a hand slightly between them, not to touch, but to bridge the space in intention.

“Would you be interested in getting to know me as well?”

The bonfire cracked loudly behind him, sparks lifting into the night like scattered embers of some ancient promise. He did not look away from her this time. He did not retreat.

Forward.

Torva Vikar​

 

[Torva Vikar]

His response to her stammered surprise was that of humor. Her kind of humor; dry, sarcastic, but certainly playful. It told her there was another facet to him, other than the guardedness he had, the sharpness of his gaze. Her bashfulness, though still somewhat present, turned surprisingly playful as she scoff-laughed at the dry humor. It made her smile further, brought genuine mirth to her blue eyes made dark in the partial shadow of the evergreen tree.

He didn’t seem too bothered that she’d been a bit clumsy and spilled her drink on herself; the splash of wine darkened her blouse and she didn’t even bother to do anything about it. He didn’t comment on it, didn’t mock her or make fun of her for the small blunder. She appreciated that, and it allowed the embarrassment of the moment to slide past easily.

“Yeah…I am famous for my nerves of steel.” gentle and playful sarcasm, to match his own.

He confirmed that he was, indeed, Aegon, and Torva couldn’t help the slower look she gave him - even as the blush still clung to her cheeks. Her entire face, really. She felt so out of her element and yet…now that she was in this moment, the nervous excited butterflies had returned.

Aegon gestured to the bonfire, to the couples that laughed and whispered or clung close to their dates or partners, and said with plainness that it was all foreign to him. That he didn’t know the first thing about notions like ‘love’ or angels or stories. His eyes caught the light of the fire, then he returned them back to her.

She hadn’t been raised on stories like what she had read or was seeing around her, either. It all seemed…so silly, if she was honest. Cute, but silly. But now a part of her was glad she had gone out on a limb and allowed herself to be carried away by wistfulness and the fanciful love stories.

The man before her continued forward with his honesty; he told her that when he had seen her profile on Zinder, he had wanted to know more. She gave Aegon a somewhat bashful smile, still shy but warming up and becoming a little bit more brave as the moments ticked by. No one else was concerned about them, wrapped up in their own little worlds as they were. It was just her and this rugged handsome man, on the edge of the fire, in a little shadowy place that was private but not totally isolated.

He seemed to study her a little closer, not rudely, just taking her in. Much like how she had done only moments prior, and she didn’t shy away from his gaze, his attention. A part of her felt more alive for it, if she was honest with herself. Strange, that she felt this way; she had only just met this man.

Perhaps it was her naivety peeking through.

His smile widened a little further, open and honest. He gestured between the two of them, and asked if she was interested in getting to know him as well. Torva’s face lit up, her smile widening further as her eyes glimmered and her cheeks blushed again.

“Y-yes. I am very interested to know more!” Her eyes flickered away, briefly, to gaze around and try to find a place they could retreat to and maybe sit down to talk more closely. All the immediate spaces seemed occupied, however.

“Place is a bit crowded - all the seating seems taken. Unless you fancy sitting on the ground…? Or standing! We can stand too…if you want.” She chuckled and glanced down at the glass in her hands again, clearly shy and not used to any of this either. “I uh, this not…Well, this is all new for me too. No idea what I am doing right now or…what I’m supposed to be doing…seems we are in the same spot with that, huh?”

She inhaled and exhaled heavily, as if releasing her pent up energy and tension. It wasn’t bad tension, just her nervousness trying to constrict her chest. She took a sip of what remained of her drink, hoping it would help loosen her up a bit more.

Jaren Kast
​

 

[CT-312]

//: Quinn Varanin //:
//: Koboh //:
//: Attire //:
//: Objective 1 - Whittling in Love //:

Koboh’s festival grounds thrummed with activity long before CT-312 reached them. Music drifted across the open. Laughter rose and fell in bursts, punctuated by the occasional cheer. At the center of the festival a bonfire towered. The collective crowd circled around it as couples danced and strangers laughed. CT-312 paused just beyond the entrance. The sounds carried to where she stood.

From where she was at, the Scout could see the layout of the festival clearly. Off the right, small round tables with two chairs each had a timing device. The tones that carried from there were lighter. More awkward greetings and nervous laughter. Some with exaggerated confidence. Further in the back, were the quieter stations. A wood carving area rested beneath a canopy of woven fabric and hanging lights. Tools laid out neatly with blocks of wood stacked in careful rows. A few individuals were already focused on their work. Next to it was a temporary shooting range. Targets rising and falling mechanically. Blasters flashing in controlled bursts while a buzzard and cheers would erupt from when the pairs won a prize.

CT-312 took it all in as she observed. She recalled the earlier conversation with BARCA. The eCard. Turquoise background with a crude cut-out image of herself. Informal lettering that was painfully blunt. What turned into a conversation of understanding cultural traditions for holidays became… this. Whatever this was. It was meant to be humorous and light. Something to distract whatever weight had settled behind the Princess’s eyes lately. Even without the bond, CT-312 had noticed it immediately. Quinn’s subtle changes in tone or the faint strain beneath her composure. When the Scout asked BARCA about it, the answer she was given was: [Sustained Psychological Fatigue Markers]

What the heck was she supposed to do with that information?

BARCA had suggested to CT-312 that statistically, humor amongst friends has an increased probability for positive response. Friends. That word rested heavier in her mind than CT-312 expected. She did not know where she stood, or if she was even allowed to think about where she might. But… If Quinn laughed at the eCard, it would likely be at her expense… and that… She would be okay with it. Even if it lightened her mood slightly, the trade was acceptable. CT-312 exhaled softly as her eyes continued to watch the festivities. The crowd thickened toward the bonfire. Her legs carried her toward the back where things were quieter. It was easier to think away from the center of celebration.

If the Princess did not find it amusing… CT-312 considered the explanation. ‘Oh. BARCA did it.’ Her helmetless expression tightened faintly at the thought. Would that be equivalent to claiming a charrhound had somehow set the already ‘on’ oven on fire? BARCA had already attempted to classify the situation as “User Error.” CT-312 let out a quiet breath that almost resembled a laugh. She had not contested that assessment. What the Scout had not expected was the reply hours later.

See you there.

There were no teasing remarks or insults. No orders. No dress code. Informal. Just… direct and simple. That left CT-312 confused.

As she moved deeper into the festival grounds, CT-312 was not wearing her usual camouflage armor. Even if the Princess would likely be indifferent to her attire, CT-312 had noticed a certain amusement— perhaps even enjoyment— from the Princess when she wore something other than metal plating and camouflage. For reasons the Scout did not fully understand.

Instead, she wore dark fitted pants that were worn at the knees with subtle tears along the fabric. It spoke of long use rather than fashion. A brown leather belt that sat low at her waist. A simple black fitted shirt beneath a blue synthweave utility jacket. Its seams reinforced but casual enough to pass for civilian wear. Around her neck hung a pair of identification tags hidden beneath the tan scarf wrapped loosely around. A dark half-mask that concealed her lower face as always. CT-312 looked less like a soldier tonight, and more like… someone who might belong here. The sensation was unfamiliar.

CT-312 slowed near a holo-board positioned just in front of the carving canopy. The legend of the Angel and the Spacer scrolled across its surface in a loop. Love spoons. Symbols of understanding. Dedication carved by hand. CT-312 let out a quiet, almost amused huff. The story could be interpreted in a dozen ways. Self-sacrifice… timing or devotion. Maybe misplaced endurance. But the act of carving itself— that, stirred something older in the Scout.

Long hours in quiet outposts. Alone. A blade drawn carefully along the wooden grain of thick branches or scraps from crates. Just to pass time. Small tokens made without purpose beyond keeping her hands busy. As she lowered herself onto the bench, CT-312 studied the tools laid out across the carving tables. Chisels and fine-detailed blades with polished handles for careful hands. Instead her hands slipped beneath the edge of her jacket, fingers finding the familiar grip secured at her lower back. Drawing a knife free, it was not ornate or specialized for woodcraft. It was for utility. Field use, kept sharp and maintained.

All she needed was the knife. Her fingers adjusted along the handle, flexing once as muscle memory surfaced. The weight felt familiar. Angling the blade slightly, CT-312 tested the resistance of the wood with a shallow pass. The first shaving curled away in a thin ribbon. Slow and controlled. There was a discipline to it, different from combat…yet not entirely separate. Pressure measured, angles were deliberate, even each cut intentional. The process demanded patience and focus.

There she waited for the Princess. Just… in the present.

​

 

[Hilal Vizsla]

Current Outfit

“Quick DVA! Do I look good?”

Hilals droid companion gave some confused beeps as she gazed at the young woman applying her eyeliner. Though Hilal had been busy with her people lately, she wanted to get back into the dating scene. After Hex it had been a while since Hilal dated anyone and while Hilal didn’t trust Zinder due to the algorithms manipulated so single people like her will keep scrolling, she had to admit it was addictive and it’s easy to find a person to date rather than endure long and awkward build up to date.

Quick and easy just the way Hilal liked it. After many swipes, she found a guy who was interested in dating her. Hilal immediately spent the next 3 days preparing herself from getting a facial, picking out a cute outfit, and contacting Akiya Orime if she looked good for her date.

The young woman gave a heavy sigh shaking her head. “You’re not giving me good feedback DVA,” she said finishing her eyeliner while staring at her small mirror. DVA gave some faint beeps before disappearing due to his stealth drive.

“Hey why did you-“ Hilal blinked before she saw her date. “Oh hey!” Hilal gave a nervous chuckle. “Glad you’re here! So you wanna like eat or something?”

Laphisto

 

[Kar'taal]

Dreidi Xeraic​

Dral listened without interrupting, his posture relaxed but attentive. He had the stillness of someone trained to observe before acting, and yet there was nothing clinical about the way he regarded her. It was interest. Plain and unhidden. When she mentioned planning the location to suit her interests, his mouth curved slightly.

"I respect strategy," he replied. "Especially when it involves fire and strong drink." There was a faint glint of amusement in his eyes at her teasing tone. He appreciated that she did not shrink from it. Too many mistook Mandalorians for men who required submission, he preferred presence.

As she spoke of her son, something in his expression shifted. The confidence remained, but it softened around the edges. "You built your world around him," he said quietly, not as a question but as acknowledgment. "There is nothing small about that."

He took another measured sip of whiskey, allowing her words to settle. He understood duty. He understood shaping a life around responsibility until little else fit inside it.

When she admitted she was simply seeing what was out there, he gave a slow nod.

"There is no weakness in curiosity," he said. "Only in pretending you do not feel it."

Her smirk returned as she warned him about dangerous information that might scare him away. That earned a low chuckle from him, warm and genuine.

"Dreidi," he said, turning slightly more toward her, his shoulder angling in without crowding her space, "I was raised among warriors who consider explosives a hobby and combat a form of courtship."

His brow lifted faintly. "It will take more than dangerous information to scare me away."

He set his glass down briefly, resting his forearm against the bar as he regarded her fully now.

"What I wish to know," he continued evenly, "Tell me, anything you want. I'm here, I want to know as much as you are willing to give, that counts as a first date."

 

[Eenia Vahn]

​

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
Wearing: [X] (And a shawl wrap)


Alright, so maybe her eagerness had shown through a little when Adelle’s invitation to the new Zinder set up came through. Only a smidge, just enough to show that she was definitely interested in going out again, right?

Yeah right. Eenia had jumped on that message and replied entirely too quickly. Hopefully that wasn’t going to lose her any points, but she found herself enjoying Adelle’s company more and more. The other made her laugh, and that was something that had been missing for a while out of the blonde’s life, but she also kept Nia grounded. Another good thing, because Stars only knew what she would be up to if there wasn’t someone willing to keep her steady and present.

Whatever the case may be with her eagerness, it didn’t stop Eenia from readying herself when the time came. Hair up, shawl over her shoulders, clothes on the right way round, she was good to go. The pair of them met up and for once the blonde healer chattered away about everything yet nothing at all. Little healings she done, a young child she had taken care of who then tried to mimic everything she did, silly little things that had filled her day.

When they arrived however, Nia had quietened. Not out of shyness or reservations, but because the bonfire was strangely alluring. Its almost as if it spoke to something deep inside of her, trying to stir it, but to no real avail. But it was distracting enough that it took her a moment to realize she had been spoken to. “Hm?” her light colored brow creased and then rose as the conversation caught up to her. “This is the perfect place to start.” she agreed with a nod.

And she was being left to decide what they were going to get into this time? Well, that was certainly an easy enough list, for the moment and in theory at least. “How about drinks first, and then we attempt to fit in with the dancing crowd?” Not too physical for Nia to handle, dancing was one of the things on her short list that she was able to keep up with.

 

[Jaren Kast]

Wearing:
Lightsabre​

QUIET LITTLE CORNER...

When he spoke and she smiled in return, something uncoiled within him.

The tension that had taken residence in his shoulders since he first stepped into the firelight eased without permission, as though her expression had given him silent approval to breathe. The wine darkening her blouse remained unattended, a small imperfection that seemed to declare this moment did not require polish. They did not need to be flawless. They only needed to be present.

Easier said than done.

At her playful claim of nerves of steel, Aegon leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as though sharing contraband.

“My nerves...” he murmured, the faintest grin tugging at his mouth, “are made of wet paper at the moment. But do not tell anyone.” His eyes held hers with quiet mischief. “If you do, I will deny it.”

The admission cost him little, yet it felt like crossing an unseen boundary. He had not offered vulnerability to many, and certainly not in the open air beneath a festival sky. Yet here it came, softened by her laughter.

As she spoke of seating and crowded spaces, his gaze drifted outward, assessing without appearing to do so. Every bench and barrel was claimed. Every log near the fire held a pair leaning close together. The ground remained the only territory unclaimed.

Without comment, he reached for the cloak fastened at his shoulders. The crimson fabric slipped free with a quiet rasp of metal as he unclipped it, the color catching the glow of the bonfire before he lowered it to the base of the evergreen. He spread it carefully across the earth, smoothing the heavy material with deliberate hands.

Then he lowered himself onto it, posture relaxed yet composed, as though this too had been part of some unspoken plan. He patted the cloak twice beside him, the gesture simple and inviting.

“We have the best seat in the house.” he said, voice warm with understated confidence. From here the fire crowned the sky, the music carried without overwhelming, and the shadows granted them a sense of enclosure that felt almost intentional.

He watched her for a moment longer before continuing.

“Since we are both interested in knowing more...” he confessed, “I may have prepared in the only way I knew how...”

A faint curve returned to his lips.

“I looked into a few get to know you questions on the Zinder app. I thought it might be useful to begin somewhere.” He drew in a steady breath, the honesty of it resting easily on his tongue now. “This is foreign territory for me, Torva. But that means we get to decide how this unfolds. There are no rules here beyond the ones we make.”

The fire crackled behind him, steady and unbothered. He tilted his head slightly, studying her with that same open attention he had offered before.

“So tell me...” he asked, voice lowering into something more intimate without losing its grounded timbre, “when you come home from a long day of work, how do you unwind?”

He waited, gaze intent yet unpressing, content to let her answer shape the next step forward.

Torva Vikar

 

[Torva Vikar]

​

Torva could not hold back the genuine, heartfelt chuckle that bordered on a giggle when the man, Aegon, said his nerves were like wet paper in the moment - going so far as to even say that if she mentioned it to anyone, he would absolutely deny it.

“Well - then we are in good company with each other!” the young redhead said with the same shy but now somewhat playful gleam in her own eyes. She rather liked this fellow, the more he talked and was candid with her. It was refreshing and if she was honest with herself - she was beginning to forget the reason why she was so nervous to begin with.

Still, something in the back of her mind urged her to be cautious; he was a strange man, after all. Though she certainly hoped he wouldn’t be a stranger by the end of their time here at the festival.

With her comments about the lack of seating available, Aegon seemed to look around more closely himself, before removing his crimson cloak and laying it out on the ground in their private little nook underneath the bows of the evergreen tree. He took his seat then patted the spot beside him, a very simple and inviting gesture. No frills, no bows or fancy talk.

Torva rather liked that. This man - he seemed real, and it only made her want to get to know him even more.

The young Mandalorian stepped with grace and then folded herself down into a cross legged position, directly facing him, setting the now empty glass in her hand down beside her and against the tree - her knee practically touching his own leg, aware of the light contact, enough to bring another faint blush to her cheeks. She didn’t withdraw or scoot away from him, however, and she was curious to see if he put space between them…or allowed that initial contact to remain.

“We have the best seat in the house.”

Torva glanced at the roaring bonfire, its heat comfortable at the distance. No one was close enough to make her feel uncomfortable or intruded upon. The music that drifted in was loud enough to be heard, but not too overwhelming to drown out lowered voices.

The spot she had chosen to initially put herself, turned out to be perfect for her and Aegon to simply find their own space and comfort amongst the masses.

“I agree. Very much the perfect place!” she said as she returned her gaze back to him, and for a moment there was silence as the two of them simply looked at each other. She took the moment to take notice of other things, now that they were a bit closer. The red headband around his forehead, the opened vest, warm toned skin. Heat crept back up into her cheeks as she met his gaze with her own.

She couldn’t see her own expression - but she could certainly feel it. And it felt like she was showing a lot of interest in him. More than she’d given to any male figure in her life before, that was for certain.

Aegon continued, voice low and measured, drawing Torva in without even trying to. He mentioned preparing something to help them both get to know one another better, stating how he had found some ‘Get to know you questions’ on the Zinder app, his smile returning - infectious, as it made her smile too. She quietly agreed with his assessment - it was a good place to start for them to better learn more about each other.

“This is foreign territory for me, Torva. But that means we get to decide how this unfolds. There are no rules here beyond the ones we make.”

Her grin widened hearing that. “I - like the sound of that.” she said as she folded her hands in her lap, her freckled face and blue eyes taking on a very eager and excited expression.

Then came his first question, voice lowering to a more intimate level: “When you come home from a long day of work, how do you unwind?”

“Oh! I like to pour myself a glass of…whatever is available and kick my feet up and just enjoy feeling the day’s tension slip away. Maybe take a hot bath with mineral salts. Sometimes I read, sometimes I watch holodramas. That is a novelty thing for me; I didn’t have any of that growing up, working for my family.”

Unconsciously, Torva bit her lower lip in a playful, thoughtful way, as she leaned in slightly, the firelight catching on the red and copper tones in her curly hair.

“Uh…I’m new to this so I guess I ask you a question too? What…about you, Aegon? What do you like to do when you get home after a long, hard day at work?”

Jaren Kast ​

 

[Jaren Kast]

Wearing:
Lightsabre​

QUITE LITTLE CORNER...

Her laughter reached him without restraint, bright and unguarded, and the sound eased something deep within his chest.

Further relief poured through his form as though a tension he had not fully acknowledged had finally been granted permission to dissolve. If his admission of wet paper nerves earned that reaction, then the risk had been worth it. He inclined his head in quiet acknowledgment when she declared them in good company, offering a small smile that carried both gratitude and agreement. Her secret keeping, he decided, was assured.

When she folded herself down upon the cloak and her knee brushed against his, he felt the contact like a measured question placed between them. For a fraction of a breath he remained still, then he adjusted, not away but subtly forward. The movement was deliberate. His leg rested against hers with light but undeniable presence. He was not retreating. Not unless she wished it so.

At her praise of their chosen spot, he lifted his dominant hand and gestured lightly toward the space around them.

“You have an eye for good positions.” he said, tone even and thoughtful. “On a battlefield, I imagine that instinct serves you well.”

The compliment was offered without flourish, spoken as observation rather than embellishment. Then he spoke of the questions he had prepared, explaining his attempt at structure in unfamiliar territory.

When she confessed she liked the sound of making their own rules and folded her hands with visible eagerness, something in her expression struck him with unexpected force. Why was his heart racing in his chest at the sight of that simple anticipation? He held her gaze a moment longer than he intended before asking how she unwound after a long day.

Her answer came easily, painted with simple comforts. A drink. Feet lifted. A hot bath with mineral salts. Books. Holodramas.

Holodramas.

His interest sharpened almost imperceptibly at that word. He parted his lips to respond, but the playful bite of her lower lip arrested him mid thought. The gesture was brief and uncalculated, yet it wiped his mind clean for a breath. He blinked once, then cleared his throat softly to regain his footing.

“Compared to your routine...” he began, voice steady once more, “...mine could use refinement.”

A faint curve touched his mouth. “I tend to cook for myself. Usually a steak and potatoes. Something simple, something that requires little attention.” He paused briefly before continuing. “After that, I settle in with whatever holodrama I can find.”

A quiet chuckle followed, low and genuine. “There is something about ridiculous dramas that takes my mind off of work better than anything else I have tried.”

He lifted his hand slightly toward her, palm open in invitation rather than demand.

“For you, I am an open book tonight. Is there anything you would like to ask me?”

Torva Vikar

 

[Varin Mortifer]

Her fingers touched his forearm and a shiver ran up his spine. A shiver not born from discomfort, but quite the opposite. He was speechless when she compared him to the depth of his carving. Rough in some spots, but still carved, about her point of view of him in his armor.

She was never afraid of him…

The thought rang in his head as he thought back to Malachor and the trials he had to go through…all while she was at his side even then.

A quiet breath escaped him as he slowly shook his head, fingers entwining with hers, the gentle warmth of the small embrace they shared.

Decoration

He knew what she was saying. She saw right through him and his armor, even from the start. Knew him for what and who he was, and accepted it. With her he felt he did not need the armor. He didn’t feel naked without it, because he did not need to hide anything from her, she had already seen and knew him.

He held a small smile when she spoke of finding something that could handle his body heat.

“It would be nice to drink something cold for more than a couple of sips.”

Varin slowly pulled her hand to his lips, pressing them gently over her knuckle, before speaking just above a whisper.

“I don’t need the armor around you.”

He looked her in the eyes.

“You make it seem like I do not have to worry about someone stabbing me in the back. Like you are my second set of eyes to help watch.”

His eyes fell towards the nearby trail that led towards the massive fires in the distance. He then looked back at her a soft look in his eyes.

“Walk with me?”

He stood up and offered his hand to her.

“My lady?”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Torva Vikar]

To her pleasant surprise - Aegon did not pull away from her, but rather scooted a little closer, enough so that his leg now rested against hers more, the heat from him seeping into her own skin through the dark leggings that hugged her legs. He wasn’t retreating, and that simple gesture grounded Torva more than he could know at that moment. Body language often said a lot more than words ever could. He was comfortable with being closer, and she was happy to be this close.

The rugged man remarked that she had an eye for good positions - pointing out rather accurately that he imagined that on a battlefield, it was a skill, an instinct, that served her well. He confirmed to her that he understood the way of the warrior - without ever needing to say it outright. That made something settle into place, in her chest. She felt, in that moment, that she could trust him to watch her back, even though it was almost pressed to the trunk of the evergreen behind her. Beyond it was darkness, and who knew what dangers lurked in the darkness.

Behind him, there were people - strangers. She could watch his back, alert him to anyone approaching that he couldn’t immediately see.

She’d settled into this position without thinking. It seemed that all the hard work and training she’d been undergoing was paying off!

Torva’s smile turned proud for a moment - happy that someone took notice of something that had become almost second nature to her by now.

The conversation drifted into a question and a response; Torva noticed that Aegon’s interest sharpened at the mention of holodramas. It was a very subtle thing, but she made a mental note of it. And already, there was something in common between them.

After clearing his throat, he responded back to the same question she asked of him - and instantly her eyes brightened when he said that he often cooked for himself, simple meals - good old steak and potatoes - and enjoyed relaxing with holodramas as well! Torva almost shrieked with joy at hearing that.

Yeah - she definitely was liking what she was hearing thus far, and they had only just begun their interaction and questions and answers.

Aegon gestured to her, palm upward in invitation as he made himself open to her questions and curiosities: “For you, I am an open book tonight. Is there anything you would like to ask me?”

“Oh! Well first of all - I actually really like cooking. I grew up in a really traditional household so…simple is what I know best. Homemade everything! And I can cook a mean steak! How do you like yours? Blue, rare? Medium? And I completely understand the silly holodrama part! It’s why I watch them too - helps me forget the stresses of my day. A good laugh is the best medicine.” Torva said with excitement, all her tension and nervousness now gone with the wind. She took a moment to gather herself and calm her near racing mind; she had so many questions and curiosities but she didn’t want to overwhelm the poor guy. She offered another easy smile and tucked a stray curly lock of red hair behind her ear.

“Are…there any hobbies you enjoy…when you are not working or frying up steaks or watching silly holodramas? Oh...I meant to say this earlier but...red looks really good on you.”

Jaren Kast ​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Eenia Vahn
Wearing: [X]

Not for the first time Adelle found herself staring at Nia, admiring how she looked and feeling underdressed comparatively. She broke the stare when she realized, turning her gaze instead to the bonfire. Nia said something about drinks and then dancing.

“Sounds good to me,” Adelle said, taking the opportunity to look at her again. If they didn’t work together so often, she would have already tried to start something. She started walking towards the bar that surrounded the massive bonfire and had to wonder how they kept their drinks cold. Or even if they kept their drinks cold.

“I thought you said you didn’t do physical things.” Adelle said, glancing over at the other Healer. A mistake, since the neckline kept trying to pull her eyes towards it. “Do you know how to dance?”

She took a few more steps, eyes on the bar ahead since she clearly couldn’t trust herself to not stare. “And if you do, how is it that pretty much every other Mando I’ve met knows how to dance but no one in my clan does?”

The bar circled the blazing fire and bartenders routinely slid datapads with the drinks menu towards the Zinder attendees. Supposedly the bonfire was a tradition from the rather depressing legend of a very brief love affair. Adelle leaned against the bartop, glancing over the menu to keep herself from staring at Eenia, and ordered a Love Potion Number Fine.

“So,” Adelle said, turning to face Nia. Even with a shawl draped around her shoulders, the dress itself straddled the line between being tasteful and leaving nothing to the imagination. “Not gonna lie, I feel a little underdressed. You look—”

Her eyes darted down to the waistline where the bodice stopped and left a small gap between the hem and the skirt. Adelle made herself look Nia in the eyes, even as she felt heat rise in her face.

“—Stunning,” she finished softly.

 

[Eenia Vahn]

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
Wearing: [X] (And shawl)


A singular bob of that blonde head and a smile were Eenia’s reaction, and the pair of Healers made their way from the pit of the bonfire to the surrounding bar instead. This time there was a puzzled tilt to Nia’s head and she lofted a brow as she looked the set up, up and down and back again. “How do you suppose they keep all of these drinks cold?” Apparently the two of them were questioning the same thing, though the slightly smaller of the two had voiced her curiosity out loud. She hoped they were kept cold, most hot drinks burned in the worst way when they went down.

Somehow she knew the subject of dancing would be brought up against her, and Eenia couldn’t help but laugh a little about it. “I can dance!” she tried to sound convincing over the fact, but her face wasn’t helping. “I mean, anyone can dance.” She tried instead. “I just can’t dance.” Her body leaned sideways against the bar so that she could see the bonfire and gesture to it. “I can move myself like a fool and not fall down, which I think is pretty darn impressive, all things considered.” Her smile turned grin before she turned to the data pad that slid before her. The list of drinks was scanned for a moment. Some of these drinks had intense names, and she laughed quietly as she ordered a Love-In-Idleness.

Her attention then shifted back to Adelle and there was a little crease between her brows. “Wait, if your clan can’t dance, why are you giving me a hard time about it?” There was nothing but playful joy in the question. “We can learn together then.” Nia assured and once again faced the bar but only long enough to pick up her drink and examine it.

And then lower it right back down so that she could look at Adelle properly once again. The compliment that had come from the brunette ignited warmth in Eenia’s face that radiated on both cheeks and across the bridge of her nose. She looked stunned, like she hadn’t heard someone say something like that to her before - when in reality it had been what felt like eons. Then the slow building, almost bashful smile pulled at her lips and she couldn’t help but to look herself over briefly before refocusing on the other woman.

“I’m always in some form of my robes.” She explained, “It felt important to look nice this evening.” Her hand then reached out to touch Adelle’s. “And don’t think for a moment that you don’t look beautiful too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in casual clothes either, that weren’t covered by warm garb.” Ice skating had been close, but jackets and such. “You look really good, and I just didn’t know how to say as such when we met up.” If it was possible for her blush to deepen, her blathering certainly did it. But there it was out there between them, and Eenia hoped her returned compliment didn’t make things awkward.