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

[Kar'taal]

Dreidi Xeraic​

Dral listened to her question with a faint, knowing smile.

"I have worn more than one mantle in my life," he began simply. "Once, I was a Jedi Master." He did not dress the statement in grandeur. It was offered plainly, as fact rather than boast.

"I believed in the Orders. In their structure. In their promises." His gaze shifted briefly to the fire. "Disillusionment is a quiet thing. It does not shatter loudly. It settles in over time."

His attention returned to her, steady and calm.

"I found clarity elsewhere. Now I serve House Verd. Loyalty. Precision. Purpose." A slight tilt of his head followed. "It suits me better."

A subtle, sly warmth touched his expression.

"And peace?" he added. "Peace is earned after discipline. A well executed mission. A quiet training yard at dawn. A strong drink beside a beautiful woman who understands flame."

His eyes held hers just a moment longer.

"Simple things," he finished smoothly.

The corner of his mouth lifted again, sly but sincere. "Tell me, Dreidi," he added lightly, "If a guardian of House Verd wished to visit Dathomir one day… would your witches turn him into something unpleasant?"

 

[Jaren Kast]

Wearing:
Lightsabre​

QUIET LITTLE CORNER...

He listened to her as though the rest of the festival had dimmed to background noise, every word she offered finding purchase somewhere steady inside him. The warmth of her leg against his, the animation in her expression, the way her excitement rose without restraint when she spoke of cooking, it held him in place with an ease that surprised him. He had no desire to look away.

When she declared she could cook a mean steak, eyes bright and voice alive with pride, a low chuckle rolled from his chest before he could temper it.

“You can cook a mean steak?” he asked, one brow lifting slightly. “For future reference, I'll need to know your ring size...”

The jest lingered between them, playful and bold, and he found himself laughing softly at his own audacity. It felt easier now. The tight coil of nerves in his stomach had loosened. The word that had been guiding him all evening returned, steady and insistent.

Forward. Failure be damned, he was enjoying himself.

“I prefer mine medium rare,” he continued, tone carrying a hint of mock solemnity, “as the gods intended! But I'm open to trying it any way you deem me worthy of receiving.”

There was challenge in his eyes when he said it, though it was wrapped in warmth rather than arrogance.

“And the holodramas...” he added, voice lowering slightly, “they serve another purpose. If I don't have something absurd playing in the background, my mind refuses to be quiet. It'll think of everything under the sun and sleep? Forget about it."

The admission was candid, stripped of bravado. He did not elaborate further, but the implication lingered in the air between them.

When she tucked a stray curl behind her ear, he felt his pulse answer with sudden force. His heart thundered in his chest with a rhythm that bordered on reckless. He cleared his throat lightly, regaining composure before answering her next question.

“I have recently taken up beskar forging, actually.” he said, voice steady once more. “It's both hobby and potential future occupation. And let me tell you...you haven't lived until you've finished a blade after putting a day's work into it. There's nothing more satisfying than seeing your vision come alive in the steel."

He held her gaze as he spoke, allowing the truth of that statement to settle. Then she told him red looked good on him. For a heartbeat...Aegon forgot how to respond.

Forward.

He lifted his dominant hand slowly, deliberately, moving with a care that made his intention clear. There was no rush in the motion, no presumption. Only invitation. If she gave even the slightest sign of discomfort, he would withdraw.

But if she allowed?

His fingers brushed a stray strand of her red hair where it had slipped free again, guiding it gently back into place. The contact was feather light, reverent rather than possessive. The firelight caught in the copper tones as his hand retreated.

“You are the only red that looks good on me...” he said softly.

The words were not jest this time. They carried a quiet certainty that surprised even him. He held her gaze, the world beyond their evergreen fading into distant sound and flame.

Forward.

Torva Vikar

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Eenia Vahn
Wearing: [X]

Adelle tilted her head to the side incredulously when Nia staunchly claimed that Adelle’s declaration made no sense and then raised her eyebrows when she demanded Adelle prove it to her. She took a measured sip of her drink and set it down carefully.

“You do realize,” Adelle said, “that I was only adopted into my clan not even a year ago? I’m a thirty-two year old foundling. I knew how to dance and dance well long before I set foot in Mandalorian space.”

She waved her hand at where the dancers are. “As it is, the current music lacks the proper rhythm and pacing. For ballroom styles, we would need a wider space than the current dancefloor. And thirdly, you said you can’t dance. If I’m going to prove it to you, it’ll have to be at this hypothetical next formal event so you have someone competent to compare mine to.”

As a newly appointed envoy, that hypothetical event was statistically more likely than ever before. Mandalorians didn’t do formal dancing, as a culture apparently, but there were plenty of other governments that hosted balls and galas out there.

“But do continue to try to challenge me,” Adelle said slyly. “I might have to find a way to prove it tonight if you do. Besides . . .”

She picked up her drink again and raised it towards Nia. “It’s cute when you’re a chatterbox.”

Adelle took a measured drink before adding “Way better than your lectures when I’m hurt.”

 

[Torva Vikar]

Torva lowered her gaze shyly, a deeper blush creeping into her cheeks, when Aegon jested about wanting her ring size. The comment brought forth another flutter of butterflies in her belly and another surge of warmth through her chest, despite the boldness of it. The way he looked at her, too, made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered to him. Despite the music, the people all around them, the bonfire - Aegon had eyes only for her.

Normally, Torva would have squirmed under such a gaze, withdrew and hid herself away. But this time…she didn’t want to. She wanted more of that attention, that warmth he seemed to quietly offer. It felt…real.

She lifted her eyes back to his face when he said he liked his steak medium rare, and her smile widened further. “That is the only way to enjoy a good steak. Well, it needs to be seasoned well too. I have my own blend I used for my steaks.” Her eyes glimmered with his comment about him being open to trying anything she deemed him worthy of receiving. That simple, honest comment clashed so hard with how she had been raised. It was a breath of fresh air to her, and she rose to the warm challenge that she saw in his eyes. “Well, you would need to be around me more, if you wish to enjoy my cooking. I need someone to be my test subject anyway.” she responded back with her own warm challenge. It was an invitation to him, subtle but she had a feeling he would pick up what she was trying to say.

She wanted him around her more.

Aegon explained further about the holodrams - how they served another purpose. And it was one she understood all too well. Her expression grew a touch more somber; she understood that he must have had things haunting him from his past and though she was curious, she knew that now was not the time to ask about it. Maybe another time…once they had gotten to know each other a little more, and felt more comfortable or even safer in each other’s company.

“I don’t like silence when I sleep either.” She admitted quietly. “At least, when I’m alone.”

Aegon cleared his throat quietly when she asked him about some hobbies he had, and he revealed to her that he had taken up beskar forging. She perked up more hearing that, eyes brighter and facial expression open and curious. It was yet another thing she felt she could connect with him on. He held her gaze with his own, not in an unnerving way, but in a manner that made her feel seen. The nervousness was long gone by now, and she took a moment to study his face, how the red bandana across his forehead suited him.

Gods, he was handsome. To her, anyway. Her compliment had slipped out, and he seemed at a loss for words. But where words failed, his next action told her everything she needed to know. Her eyes flickered to his hand rising towards her. There was no rush to his movement, only care. She didn’t pull away when fingers lightly brushed another stray lock of copper hair out of her face, the motion of it so reverent that it made her go speechless herself for a moment. The butterflies returned, her heart stuttering in her chest. Warmth spread through her limbs, along with a strange tingling that electrified her skin. It wasn’t uncomfortable, by any means. But it was a new and strange sensation for her - something she realized she rather enjoyed.

“You are the only red that looks good on me...” he openly admitted in a soft voice that made the tingles spread further across her skin, making her hairs stand on end. Her lips parted ever so slightly as she breathed in, and in that moment nothing in the world existed except him. Her eyes drifted once more from his face to look at all of him, as if she were committing every part she could see to memory.

“...My ring size is seven and a half - by the way.” she murmured after a moment, before she blinked…and felt her face flame bright red. The comment had just slipped free without thinking and now it was sitting there between them. She covered her face with hand as a somewhat surprised grin spread across her face - but she didn’t apologize for it. “You know…since you asked.”

After clearing her throat and gathering herself, Torva decided to continue forward with their mutual questions of one another - before she practically melted in front of him into a puddle of sappy adoration.

“So - beskar forging hmm? I bet you’re really good at it too.” Her eyes twinkled again, her smile turning a touch playful and coy. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to forge steel, make blades. I always wanted to make my own sword, ever since I was a little girl.” Feeling a bit more bold now, more comfortable in Aegon’s presence, Torva leaned forward slightly, a hopeful and playful demeanor shining through her.

“Maybe… you can teach me a thing or two sometime…? I think I’d really enjoy that...”​

Jaren Kast ​

 

[Eenia Vahn]

TAG: Adelle Bastiel
Wearing: [X]


Eenia had picked her own drink back up again and had taken a long drink from it before holding it aside and gaining that ever thoughtful look about her. This time her lips were slightly puckered to go along with the creased brow as she seemed to take what Adelle was saying into consideration. An adult foundling was hardly a surprise really, well not to the blonde anyway. She had seen and heard about several instances of the same, but the idea that the other healer had come from a place that offered learned elegance to the rough and tumble of the Mandalorians?

Well…Nia really didn’t have much room to think anything of it, really. Here she was too.

“Well, considering your newly appointed position, I guess you’ll get your chance sooner rather than later to put words into actions, won’t you?” Nia gave a single waggle of her brows before she took another drink from her glass.

The more she drank of it, the less the sour bit seemed to be present, and really she wasn’t sure if she was getting used to it or if it had numbed her taste buds. Either way, when the subject of injury was brought up, the blonde made a scoffing sound and the glass was set back on the bar. “It was hardly a lecture.” That wasn’t true at all, it had definitely been a lecture. “I had no warning what I was walking into, and seeing you hurt like that?”

Nia sucked in a breath and huffed it back out, and a real expression of upset touched her features. “I didn’t like it. Not one bit.” The smartest thing to do at that point would have been to heal Adelle herself, but she had been so exhausted from working in the pits that it probably wouldn’t have helped, and Adelle probably wouldn’t have let her try. “Next time, I don’t care how bone tired I am. I will heal you right there on the spot, and then you won’t have to worry about panicked lectures or triage.”

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: CT-312 //:
//: Attire //:

Before the event:

Quinn had received a notification that there would be another zinder event. The one before last had been enlightening, to the point that she had vowed to never attend again. They only brought her heartache.

Easily, she pinpointed that one particular event as the turning point in several of her relationships. It was an annoyance, so when she got the last announcement, she had written it off.

Though CT-312 had been cute when she swiped on her. And the Life Day event was worth it.

But CT-312 hadn't reached out this time. It brought a new annoyance to the Echani's life — one that she didn't really see coming. With everything going on, maybe there had been a part of her hoping the little clone trooper would have had the courage to ask again.

"A little more rose oil, please, Mai…" Quinn tilted her head in the direction of the most recent hire to her estate. The woman moved without hesitation and dropped a few more into the Queen's warm tub.

Quinn lowered herself, letting the essence of the rose and other herbs take hold of her senses. She was doing her best to relax, especially after the turbulence of her life recently. Brosi, Coruscant, and the Coronation all happened in succession — too much for her to wrap her mind around.

Suddenly, as she was starting to let the tension roll off of her, she heard her device chime. Rotating in the deep tub, the Echani hung over the edge and flicked her way through her device. It was a message from 312, one she obviously assumed wasn't meant for her to see.

It made her smile, for the first time in a while.

Quickly, she tapped the image twice. A small heart would highlight the message.

Quinn liked this.
<: See you there, 312. :>​

---

The day arrived, and Quinn did her best to dress casually. She had overdressed a little the last time, but she was curious to see how 312 decided to dress. The woman was known for her camouflage, a concept she still couldn't wrap her mind around. Why use clothes to hide when a good stealth cloak would do the same thing? Quinn didn't let her mind linger too much on the trooper's attire; though, she wouldn't have minded if the trooper had chosen to wear her dress uniform.

Quinn paused, as a sheepish little grin spread across her face. She remembered the warmth of the jacket when she was hitting a low point during a party she had already not wanted to attend. Small moments like this made her appreciate the trooper more.

She was one of the few who seemed to have Quinn's well-being in mind.

Moving through the crowd, Quinn watched as people were carving the spoon. She really didn't understand the meaning behind it, but she had hoped the trooper could explain it to her.

Finally spotting 312, Quinn paused and admired the focus of the trooper. It was rare for Quinn to take the opportunity to just watch, but seeing how she held the knife showed her skill. It only made her more interested in the trooper's story. Shrugging, she moved closer and took her place near 312.

"You know, I'm surprised you didn't notice me sooner~."

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

​

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

Dreidi looked curious when Dral confessed to the fact that he was formerly a Jedi, a Jedi Master. That was something that Dreidi had not expected to hear. The man did not look the type to formerly be Jedi then again, neither did Dreidi really. Few would look at her and think that she was Jedi, even when she was in the Jedi attire. "I am surprised to hear that you are formerly Jedi, don't really see many walk away from that life. Or at least not unless they are aiming to become Dark Jedi or Sith."

"I can understand the disillusionment felt towards the Jedi. It is something that I have been feeling for a while now. Perhaps part of the reason that I exiled myself to Dathomir, embracing the teachings of my sisters more." On Dathomir, everyone was a sibling, even those not tied to them by blood. It was a community and they raised one another as such. At least from Dreidi's experience that had been the way.

Her eye raised when he mentioned a strong beside a beautiful woman who understand the flame, "well, seems I need to help you find such a woman then." Dreidi smirked teasing, while she was not one to fish for compliments, Dreidi also wasn't experienced enough with compliments to find a way to handle them. At least handle them in a manner that wasn't self-deprecating.

Pondering on the question asked of her, Dreidi shook her head, "as long as the guest upheld the proper levels of respect and pleasantries that is assumed for House Verd then there should not be an issue." Finishing her drink, "why do you ask?"

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Eenia Vahn
Wearing: [X]

Well, kriff. That hadn’t been her intended effect at all. Adelle had been trying to make a joke but Nia apparently remembered the Yaga Minor operation clearly. And Adelle still hadn’t told Nia how she’d gotten hurt. That would probably have been another lecture.

And she had absolutely lectured her when Adelle made good on her promise to get properly triaged.

“You’re right, I should’ve warned you,” Adelle said quietly, turning to rest her elbows on the bartop, finally withdrawing her hand. “That whole situation was… I didn’t exactly expect to start hosting dignitaries the same day I got field promoted to envoy. I needed my spare clothes and I needed them fast, and you know where I stash my duffel when I’m not in the med-station myself.”

Adelle took a long drink of the Love Potion Number Fine, remembering that night.

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t triage myself,” she said. “I did ask for help from a friend. And she had experience with triage.”

Things had been… odd with Aselia lately. There was still the friendly familiarity but Adelle couldn’t help but feel an additional tension that underlay everything.

Adelle rolled her neck from side to side, trying to release the stiffness growing in her shoulders. That was a puzzle for a different time. Eenia’s last words slowly registered and Adelle fixed her with a stern look.

“You and I both know Healing has a cost,” she said, a bit of an edge there. “It uses your life force, Nia. There’s only so much you can give without rest before you start taking your own life. You don’t like seeing me hurt, fine. I work on the frontlines, it’s going to happen. I’ll take your lectures. What I won’t stand is my friends threatening to give up their life over minor injuries.”

She met Nia’s turquoise gaze, her mismatched eyes bright and fierce and hurt. “You… You don’t get to do that to me. Never to me.”

She had enough blood on her hands.

 

[Uros Wren]

FESTIVAL OF THE ANGEL AND THE SPACER
The Gilded Hearth - Chapter 1

OUTFIT: semi-formal inside, brown leather jacket outside
TAG: Open

COMË AND GO​

KOBOH

Yet another business trip has brought Uros stranded in a new planet. While waiting for his ship to refuel, Uros took his astromech companion to what looks like a festival at the center of Koboh. The two walked until they reached an exhibition that caught Uros’ mind. A shooting range.

He approached the place, already looking forward to showboat.

“I’m sorry sir, this is a couple only game for this festival.”

Karkin’ hell.

<beep beep beep beep beep beep.>

“I know I’m handsome Bee, thanks. But I just want to shoot now, it would take too long.”

<beep beep beep beep beep beep.>

“What if we pretend that we’re dating Bee? You think they’ll bite?”

<beep beep beep beep beep beep.>

“Karkin’ hell. Alright I’ll just look around for one then.”

Uros led the two walking aimlessly thrugh the sea of couples. He approached the first decent-looking woman he could spot, Bee following him on his tail.

“Hi pretty, you looking for a date too?”

<beep beep beep!>​

 

[Jaren Kast]

Wearing:
Lightsabre​

QUIET LITTLE CORNER

Her eyes lifted again when he spoke of steak, and the brightness in her expression stirred an answering warmth in him that he no longer tried to suppress. When she declared that medium rare was the only proper way to enjoy one, he gave a slow nod of agreement, the corners of his mouth rising with clear amusement. The pride in her voice when she spoke of her own seasoning blend drew him closer without effort, his posture leaning in as though the promise of that future meal had become a matter of quiet importance.

When she suggested she needed a test subject, his grin deepened.

“I would happily volunteer for such an honorable duty...” he said, voice warm with playful seriousness. “But I have conditions.”

His brow lifted slightly. “I possess a dangerous sweet tooth. I will only agree to serve as your test subject if confections accompany the arrangement.” The negotiation rested between them with the comfortable rhythm of shared humor.

Their conversation shifted gently as the subject of holodramas returned, and he studied her face while she spoke. There was a fleeting shadow in her expression when she admitted she disliked silence while sleeping, especially when she was alone. The words stirred a thought in him so immediate that he caught himself biting lightly against his lower lip to contain it. The instinct to speak it was strong, but restraint held him steady.

Instead he inclined his head once, voice softening.

“I hope your dreams become as sweet as you are.” he said quietly, “With or without holodramas playing in the background.”

Then he spoke of beskar forging, and the shift in her demeanor was immediate. Curiosity lit her features openly. He felt it in the way her attention sharpened, in the brightness that returned to her eyes. He held her gaze without hesitation, allowing the moment to stretch. Forward had been the word guiding him all evening, and it had carried him through every step of this strange and wonderful encounter.

He had told her she was the only red that looked good on him. He half expected a laugh, perhaps even something thrown his way for the boldness of it...Instead she gave him her ring size.

Aegon could not stop the quiet laugh that escaped him, low and genuine. The air between them seemed to shift as she continued speaking, her words flowing faster now as she spoke about forging and childhood dreams of making her own blade. It felt as though she was attempting to steady the ground beneath them, to cool the warmth that had gathered.

Unfortunately for that effort, the word Forward had taken root deep inside him.

All he could see was the firelight dancing in her eyes. The red of her hair catching the glow of the flames. The sound of her voice settling into his thoughts like something familiar. He nodded slowly when she asked if he could teach her.

“I would be happy to teach you what I know...” he said, his tone carrying quiet certainty. “However, such training does not come free. Just as with your cooking arrangement, I require a small portion of dessert before any hammer strikes metal.”

Forward.

The word echoed in his mind with unmistakable clarity. And in that moment he made a decision that ignored caution entirely.

The festival disappeared from his awareness. The laughter, the fire, the distant music all faded into silence as his focus narrowed to the woman before him. He reached out slowly with his dominant hand, movement careful and deliberate as his fingers gently guided her chin upward.

Then he leaned forward and kissed her.

His lips brushed against hers with softness that stood in quiet contrast to the strength in his hands. He lingered only for a breath, allowing the moment to exist without force or urgency.

Then he leaned back again. A smirk settled across his features, confident yet warm. “You may consider that a down payment.” he said calmly. His gaze held hers without wavering.

“But I will require more of the same before your sword takes shape.”

Torva Vikar

 

[Torva Vikar]

“Oh?” Torva said when she heard that there were conditions to this handsome man agreeing to be her test subject with her cooking and meals. The idea of this was not offputting to her in the slightest, if anything it just drew her in more.

A dark brow lifted, as his deep voice gave his terms: he had a sweet tooth, and he would only agree to serve as her taste tester if she supplied him with…confections. Torva’s smile widened further as the negotiation settled between them. She could not have asked or prayed for a better situation to find herself in. She loved to cook, and bake. The answer was so simple it seemed almost criminal.

“Well it is a good thing I not only know how to cook a steak, but bake delicious sweets too. So I accept these terms.” the young woman declared confidently, as if she had just struck the deal of a lifetime.

Aegon was an attentive listener as the conversation shifted; when she shared the honest truth with him about her not liking to sleep alone without a holodrama playing in the background, he seemed on the edge of saying something in response, even biting his lower lip in a subtle manner that Torva noticed, but didn’t call attention to.

Though it did make her wonder just what he had wanted to say to her, in that moment. She toyed with the idea of asking him about it, but decided not to.

“I hope your dreams become as sweet as you are. With or without holodramas playing in the background.” was his quiet response, and she felt another subtly coy smile curve her lips. He had called her sweet, a compliment - one of among a handful he’d paid her thus far. Torva found that she rather liked it.

“I think they might…one day. Sooner or later.” was her reply, and she genuinely believed that. Especially as she gazed upon Aegon’s face, and into the warmth of his gaze.

She could not deny the truth, that something was sparking between them. She had not expected it to happen, not like this. She had come here with the expectation to walk away with a fun experience to tell others about later on, but this had surpassed that by far, already.

Torva wasn’t just enjoying herself anymore. She was…flying high in the clouds. It was something she hadn’t experienced before, not really. And she wanted more of it, more of this. And she dared to think the thought….more of him.

Even as the evening passed by them and couples came and went, she found that she was dreading leaving this place alone. Aegon’s company was so easy for her to bask in, already. It was like she had known him her entire life, and yet they had only just met.

She knew that was rare, and she decided she wasn’t going to let go of it.

That quiet decision in her heart came forth in the excitement and eagerness she presented to him when she talked. When the quiet moment came, and burned with something she couldn’t quite explain but felt with every fiber of her being, she had told him her ring size. It had been a raw and open and honest truth - and he was doing that to her. Bringing forth the raw openness she had wanted to experience with another person for so long.

Aegon chuckled lightly, softly, at the moment. Not at her, she knew he wasn’t laughing at her, or the fact that she had just told him her ring size. But with the gentle fragility of the moment that was transpiring between them. Was he perhaps as stunned at how…easy this was? How natural it felt, this budding connection and openness? Did he feel warmth blooming in his chest too? The electric sensation that was building?

The safety in each other’s presence?

Was it too soon? Too early? Did she care??

No. She did not.

For the first time in years, perhaps ever, Torva wanted to forge ahead boldly, courageously - without fear or condemnation or judgment. She felt none of that from him - just that one thing she had been looking for.

Safety.

Aegon nodded slowly as Torva asked if he could perhaps teach her how to forge a blade - receptive to her desire to do things with him. Whatever it may be. Cooking, watching stupid holodramas, forging weapons, and anything else. She wanted to experience it with him, that much she knew for certain.

“However, such training does not come free. Just as with your cooking arrangement, I require a small portion of dessert before any hammer strikes metal.” the handsome man before her stated with quiet certainty. Torva’s face expressed her interest, her eyes brightening in the firelight. He had her undivided attention, and she was eager to know what this price would be.

Torva saw Aegon shift, and her heart rate accelerated - not in fear or discomfort, but in excitement. The way he gazed upon her made heat settle over her, made the background and their surroundings fade in warm fuzz. He lifted a hand, the same one that he had used to push a lock of her fiery hair earlier, and gently gripped her chin. She didn’t resist the lifting motion, she didn’t want to.

She knew what he was going to do, a heartbeat before he leaned in and pressed his lips oh so softly to hers - a chaste kiss, one she returned just as gently. Torva had kissed someone before, a few times - a boy she had a crush on in her earlier teenage years. She had learned the art of it, and she found herself glad for the experience.

Because it made this moment all the more sweeter.

He lingered for a moment longer, before he settled back and gave her a smirk that almost made her close the distance and throw caution to the wind a second time. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson and one could see the rate of her pulse at the pale sides of her throat.

“You may consider that a down payment. But I will require more of the same before your sword takes shape.” Aegon said to her calmly, confidently. It pulled at her, because she felt that this was genuine.

She returned his smirk with a playful, coy smile of her own and a dance of excitement in her sapphire eyes. “You can have that, and more. But…is it really a price to pay, if it is something I want to give?”

The truth tumbled out. Torva paused for a moment, but then she pressed forward. She was crossing that bridge and burning it behind her, without a second thought. “I…forgive me if this is forward of me because we only just met but -” she paused for a moment, her eyes searching his, almost pleading in a way, hoping that what she was about to tell him was something he would understand. “…but I feel like I’ve known you my entire life. And-” she paused and looked down at her hands, wringing them in sudden nervousness.

“I’ve never felt this way before. And… I dread the idea of not being able to share these silly little things with you…cooking, baking, watching stupid holodramas - all that and more. I want to. I really do.”

She lifted her gaze, vulnerable and raw and open, back to Aegon. She searched his face, the moment electric and poised on the edge of something that could change both of their lives, if they allowed it to.

“What do you want, Aegon?”

Jaren Kast ​

 

[Jaren Kast]

Wearing:
Lightsabre​

QUIET LITTLE CORNER

When she spoke of baking, something inside him reacted before his composure could intervene.

“You can bake?!”

The words escaped with bright enthusiasm, far louder than the moment required. His dominant hand snapped up to cover his mouth almost immediately, eyes widening at his own outburst as though he had accidentally fired a blaster in a quiet hall. A breath later he cleared his throat, attempting to recover the calm he had been maintaining all evening.

“I am glad we have reached such an understanding...” he continued more evenly. “I look forward to sampling your steak and your cakes!" Yet the smile that lingered on his lips betrayed how pleased he truly was.

As the conversation continued to flow between them, his thoughts drifted briefly to the beginning of the evening. He had come here on little more than a reckless impulse. An idle moment had placed the Zinder app on his datapad, and he had expected nothing more than free food, cheap drinks, and perhaps a painfully awkward exchange with a stranger before returning to his ship.

Instead, the woman before him had drawn him in completely.

Her fiery hair glowed beneath the bonfire’s light. Her voice carried warmth that settled into his chest with unsettling ease. What had begun as a passing curiosity had become something that felt far more significant than he had intended.

When she spoke of dreams that might sweeten someday, he listened with quiet attention. The conversation shifted again toward beskar forging, and that familiar subject stirred deeper thoughts within him.

Forging had begun as little more than a distraction. The past remained an empty space in his memory, an abyss where childhood and formative years should have lived. Faces appeared sometimes in brief flashes, yet none remained long enough to claim. Among the Mandalorians he had found belonging, yet the question of who he had been before still lingered unanswered.

The forge had given him something solid. Heat, metal, purpose. A craft that existed entirely by his own choosing. A future he could shape with his own hands. And the woman before him, he realized, he would welcome into that future without hesitation.

The word Forward had guided every step of the evening, and it carried him through the reckless moment when he leaned forward and kissed her. She had not pulled away. Her cheeks had burned bright in the firelight, yet there had been no rejection in her eyes.

His heart had thundered harder because of it.

When he teased her about dessert being required before forging lessons could begin, her response caught him off guard. There was excitement in her eyes. There was openness in her voice that went beyond flirtation.

She wanted to give him more.

Then her words deepened. They arrived with honesty that struck him squarely in the chest. She spoke of familiarity, of connection, of wanting to share the ordinary rhythms of life with him. Cooking. Baking. Watching absurd holodramas. Living.

He listened without interruption, absorbing every syllable as though it were air itself. Reason might have urged caution. It might have reminded him that they had only just met beneath this festival sky. But reason held no authority tonight.

Forward did.

When her final question reached him, the world seemed to quiet around them. The fire crackled somewhere behind him. Music drifted faintly across the gathering. Yet none of it held his attention now.

For a moment he remained silent.

Then his dominant hand lifted once more, guiding her gently closer. Not toward another kiss, not this time. Instead he leaned forward until his brow rested softly against hers, the contact simple and intimate.

“This..." he said quietly. “You. This is what I want.”

He remained there for a breath longer, allowing the truth of those words to settle between them before leaning back. A light smile touched his lips, open and earnest.

“I have never felt this way before either.” he continued. “And I do not want there to be a tomorrow where you are not part of it.”

The next words carried greater gravity, spoken with quiet certainty.

“Malyasa’yr gar cuyir ner?”

Torva Vikar

 

[Torva Vikar]

​

Aegon’s outburst at her confession that she could bake had surprised her in the best of ways, and she smiled brightly with mirth as he clapped a hand over his mouth. He may not have known it at the time, but that reaction meant more to her than he could possibly know. Torva couldn’t remember a time when someone was excited over something that she could do.

None of her skills, her efforts, were acknowledged by her mother and father. And they had known her her entire life. This man hardly knew her, and yet his exuberance over what she considered such a trivial thing made her heart happy.

Everything about this - not the festival, or the drink she’d savored, or the little treats she had nibbled on - but this moment with this man, made her happy.

She couldn’t remember a time before the Burning of Ketaris when she had been this joyful. Perhaps the closest moment was when she called Aether buir for the first time. But this moment with Aegon eclipsed that, even.

He listened to her, without being distracted by what was occurring around them. He didn’t push her away, didn’t reject her open, honest words to him. She hadn’t rejected his boldness - quite the opposite, she’d found it to be invigorating, uplifting for her, even. He was bold where she was hesitant, and it called to her shy confidence.

Perhaps, she was this way with him, because he’d been open and honest with her from the very beginning. There were no masks, not that she could see or tell - though she knew there were more layers to him than what he had given her a glimpse of. But that just made her want to know more about him. To uncover every layer, go deeper.

And she prayed that he would give her the chance to do so.

Her final question, what did he want, was left to settle between them. He was silent, but she didn’t take his silence as a bad thing. He seemed to understand the weight behind it, the question and the choice she was offering: did he want her around? Or did he want to go on his way?

She knew she would be sad if he chose to go on his way and continue onwards with his life, but she would still cherish this moment she experienced with him. He had set a standard that she would hold it as an expectation for any man that decided to try and court her.

Part of her expected him to tell her that while the experience had been wonderful, and she was a sweet girl, but that he wanted to go on his way.

What she received was something else entirely.

His hand lifted again and felt her heart stutter in her chest; she was briefly awed by how a simple movement from him could elicit such a reaction from her, but then her focus was drawn on him as he guided her gently towards him. There was no kiss, not this time - but something that felt more intimate and bonding. He pressed his brow to her own, a simple gesture but one that held deep significance.

He told her that what he wanted…was her. Moments like this.

Aegon would feel the tension that had tightened her shoulders melt away, as she slightly leaned into him. She exhaled a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, the warmth of it ghosting his face, before he confessed after a moment that he had never felt this way either, before admitting too that he did not want a tomorrow where she was not a part of it. Torva could have cried at that moment - his words echoed the very same thoughts that had been rolling around in her head.

She didn’t want to leave this place without him, she dreaded the idea of him not being there.

There was a smile on Torva’s face when he pulled away, a kind, warm and relaxed smile that reflected in her blue eyes.

Aegon’s next spoken words were not in Basic…but in the language of the Mandalorians. She had learned enough of Mando’a to understand the weight of what he had just said to her, and it made her pause as she truly looked at him.

Now it was her turn to be silent for a moment. Her eyes traced the rugged lines of his face, and she felt the desire to reach out and touch him. She wrestled with that for a moment, her shyness trying to take control, but she pushed past it. Her left hand lifted and she placed it against the side of his face, feeling the warmth of the skin beneath her fingers, the coarseness of the dark facial hair that framed his face.

She had never done such a thing before, had never felt the desire to - until now.

Torva’s smile widened further, the answer already shining in her eyes before she spoke the words.

"Elek - Ni malyasa'yr cuyir gar." Torva said softly, her Mando’a not as fluent as his own, but better than it once had been. She let that settle between them for a moment; she wanted him to know that she understood the weight of his words and her own. “I want to be there for as long as you want me around.”

Jaren Kast ​

 

[CT-312]

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

When was the last time she had a moment like this? Scrape. A thin ribbon of wood peeled away, curling softly before drifting down to join the others. CT-312’s thoughts drifted back to before all of this. The constant cycle of: deployment, engagement, extraction across the systems. There had been no time to sit with her own thoughts. No reason to. Only purpose. And now?

Scrape. The knife continued its work, guided by muscle memory. CT-312’s mind returned to one of her first encounters with the Princess. An ancient Lucrehulk on Rugosa, long abandoned and left to decay in the void. Its corridor stretched endlessly into the dark. She had taken position in the rear with a mismatched group of Troopers following behind a cluster of Sith Lords. The Scout recalled catching a glimpse of the Princess before being sent to turn on the dormant generators. There was no interaction between the two. Scrape. Two separate worlds. There had been something else as well… a black cat. Scrape. In the middle of space...

A presence CT-312 had unconsciously accounted for neared, the bond pressing quietly at the back of her thoughts. Scrape. The blade carved another line. CT-312’s hands worked automatically, carving out soft contours before she had chosen what the wood would become. Scrape. Her first true assignment with the Princess surfaced. A portal. Then being thrown into the Netherworld, Scrape. That cat.

From the contact lenses she wore, BARCA analyzed the wood’s shape. The system fed quietly through her earpiece, analysis and information of its design—

A familiar voice cut through, pulling CT-312 back into the present. For a fraction of a second— too brief for most to notice— the edge of the blade pressed deeper than intended. Pausing mid-draw as it bit into the grain. The cut misaligned. Her hand reacted instantly, regaining control. CT-312 adjusted and corrected the motion. But the damage had already been done, a thin curl split unevenly from the wood. A small imperfection.

CT-312 glanced up, blue eyes finding the source. Reflex took over. Her left hand closed around the carving, concealing it automatically as her right hand moved behind her back, hiding the knife. She rose abruptly to her feet, posture snapping into place out of a long-ingrained habit.

It was the Princess. Who had sat nearby her. “...Ah—” The sound slipped out before she could formulate it into something more. “I did.” CT-312’s brows drew together slightly, processing the lapse. Normally she was more attentive and aware of her surroundings. This was rare. “I was just—” Both hands came forward in front of her now. Her fingers loosened, unfolding the carving still held within it. “...a bit preoccupied.” The Scout lowered herself back onto the bench. Her gaze dropped to the wooden object in her hand, then to the knife, then back again to the totem.

‘Huh.’ A cat. That had not been intentional. The shape had formed without direction. One side had a slight gash on its side where the blade had faltered. CT-312 studied it for a moment before glancing back at the Princess. Training and protocol reasserted itself. Greetings. “Hello Princ—” She stopped herself. The small carving slipped into her jacket pocket as she sheathed the knife. This was not an assignment. “Hello, Quinn.” Something in CT-312’s tone soften with the name. BARCA chimed quietly in her ear.

The Scouts eyes flicked over Quinn, taking in the details in a sweep. The difference was immediate, there was no deliberate presentation of status. Soft tones that caught the firelight rather than reflected it. There was an ease to it. “You are… aesthetically optimal.” BARCA’s abrupt chirp rang sharply through her earpiece. “I mean— you look good. The fabric reflects the firelight well. It works on you.” The words came out blunt, but the compliment was genuine.

BARCA chimed softly again. Follow-through. “How are you this evening?” A small silence followed. “My apologies for the unexpected message. If it was…” searching for the acceptable phrasing. “...misinterpreted, I can provide clarification.” CT-312’s fingers brushed faintly against the edge of her jacket where the small carving rested hidden. “It was intended to be… light.” The word carried a softness she was unaccustomed to.

“I was just waiting here.” CT-312 turned her head slightly toward the holo-board positioned at the front of the canopy, reading the words ‘Whittling Lovespoon Station’. When she looked back to Quinn, she gave a small nod to the neatly arranged carving tools and stacked wooden blocks spread across the table. “It seems to be a wood carving station.”

​