Faction Crown Jewels | The Confederacy

[Faegard]

W A L T Z​

T A G: Agravain

That was one of the things I'd always admired about Agravain.

Would it get easier? Neither of us could know for sure, but whether it was for both our sakes or mine alone, he said that it would, that it could. He had always served as a beacon of hope. He wouldn't lie or sugar-coat, but he saw the light in almost every dark place in which I'd found myself...

almost.

I swallowed, pulling myself away from his shoulder with as much nonchalance as I could. Much as I tried to fight it, a shiver wracked my shoulders, one I endeavoured to hide beneath a casual toss of my hair. His question had settled upon my soul like a drop of honey on an ants nest. I felt the distinct curdling and writhing as my spirit fought to devour it - to make it disappear. Did Agravain deserve it? No, and on that fact alone, I could say that I did, by being the one who brought him to that place.

But even if I hadn't - even if I could somehow wipe that black mark off my record, did I deserve to be cursed? Before I'd even followed that damn map?

My mind travelled to my attempts to infiltrate Dathomir, being captured and imprisoned by the Sith, escaping... all those bodies that my eventual escape partner had left, and how I'd stood by and done nothing as he'd felled humans and aliens alike.

"I guess not." I lied, "I mean, no. But it's a redundant train of thought anyway."

Redundant or not, I knew it was one that would consume me whenever I lay down to rest, as it had from the moment I'd turned, and would until whenever this existence would end. But that was bleak. This was all too bleak, and if I became too consumed by it I worried that Agravain would ask me for my thoughts. So instead, I made a point to scoop my hair over one shoulder, a simple physical gesture that helped to banish the thoughts like bats from an attic.

"Perhaps there is yet fun to be had. What secrets might this garden hold, do you suppose?"​

 

[Yusha]

B Y O O​

Tag: Lyra Vent, Brina Helvig

The King of Beggars smiled.

It was a smirk that was well practiced - one which showed genuine interest. One that said "no, I am not trying to rob you blind." It was one that he had learned years ago, back when the Old Crones taught him how to prowl the streets. Back then, being young and adorable was on his side. Now he had to actually keep up his beard and appear "handsome" to members of the opposite sex. Anything to keep his pockets lined. When Yusha made his approach to his friend and her striking companion, the blonde gave a flip of her hair in response. Her tone was coy, teasing even - a fact which coaxed a chuckle from the larcenist.

Wouldn't you like to know. she said.

And then came Brina's response. The Lupine was familiar territory - the closest thing to a friend Yusha could call himself having in the Knighthood. She was a woman of exceptional quality, though she never forgot debts whatsoever. By now, he owed her a small library of tomes and stories. He would make due on his promise someday. Just not today...Tomorrow was not looking good either. If I had, I probably wouldn't share the information. Hardy har har. The ladies were teases this evening.

The King of Beggars could play along just fine.

He tapped the ill-gotten wallet upon the flat of his palm - a fact which drew the blonde's attention once more. Oh the irony. She warned against the wallet being swiped - and here he had pilfered it himself. His smile grew. "Fortunately, I wouldn't be caught dead with such an ugly thing." he began, tapping the wallet one final time. "A drunk gentleman had dropped this in the alley. Was looking to return it to him, before I was distracted by the sun, the moon, and the stars." Or rather, women which compared to them. He turned his head, looking both ways to see where the drunkard might have stumbled off too in the time since he claimed his loot.

Ah, a modest tea shop it seemed. His form shambled into the entrance and closed the door behind him. It seemed even the most humble of shops was open tonight, taking advantage of the festivities. "Tell you what," he began, returning his gaze to the pair. "I'm not above paying a good bribe for information." His words were coupled with a wink. "It's no library Brina, but how's about we sample the local tea shop around the corner? On me? I can return this ugly thing to its owner and see about learning her name."

He backed up a step, arms held wide as if this was the greatest idea since sliced bread. "What do you say?"

​

 

[Rience]

W A L T Z​

T A G : Cordelia Malkavian

Normal.

During the time before, nights like these were almost commonplace. It was not always applauding the crowning of a new monarch, mind. Yet the pair was never lacking for an occasion to put on their Sunday best and to enjoy a night on the town. In fact, if memory served, they had found each other on the dance floor on one such evening. A cocky Rience and an even cockier Cordelia met on the floor and the rest was history. The memory coaxed the edges of his lips to curve in the beginnings of a smile, one he punctuated with the final swig of his champagne.

They were in the here and now. The present reality. One where many years had been spent apart. Though they had never said as much out loud, there was a craving that both mutually recognized. A craving to make up for that lost time. It burned hotter than the thirst which characterized the woman's existence - so much so that they eagerly made their way to Naboo. Tonight, things would return to normal somewhat. They would make up that time, make up new memories. And it all began with what she desired.

There are a great many things from before I still love and enjoy quite thoroughly.

It was at that moment that the man was grateful for his complexion. Despite the lighting, if he had a divine lack of chocolate in his skin, she might have been able to see the heat rushing to his cheeks. But, his quickly-growing grin gave it away as if he was blushing all the same. "Really now?" he began, chuckling as his empty flute was turned over to an attending droid. "Well, I thoroughly love and enjoy you too." His response had a coy tone, but he meant it. And that was clearly the foundation of why the people were safe this evening. Why a woman as powerful and hungry as she could parade in their midst without unleashing hell. Because, at the end of the day, he would give her so much chit.

*He loved her.

At the mention of a dance, the woman perked up ever so slightly. She was already clearly enjoying herself, but waltzing about on the floor was a treat she certainly wasn't going to pass up. Beaming, he let his hand fall to the small of her back. Then low enough that he'd have gotten into trouble if it wasn't him. "Then let's thoroughly enjoy ourselves. Ladies first." She would either laugh...or he was losing that hand - there was no middle ground.

Either way, this was normal.


​

 

[Hisashi]

W A L T Z​

T A G : Saraya Arenais

Hisashi did not envy the Queen.

As he strode into the room, a hush befell the hands that were present. This was not out of reverance or fear of the man before them, no. But rather, the servants had grown accustomed to the warrior. Since before the burden of queenship fell upon Mila's brow, he had made it very plain one thing. When he arrived, everything stopped. Not for the sake of his own ego. Solely for the sake of keeping her highness safe. His gaze swept the room as the young woman turned; and just as he was satisifed with the state of their surroundings, he found her smile waiting for him. His name upon her lips. It was hard not to smile.

He found it hard not to smile, period, these days.

Why? Because they were as night and day compared to how things were. In the beginning, the young monarch was a justifiably-frightened woman who wanted nothing to do with him. And he was nothing short of a killer for hire. Whilst the job description was altered slightly in light of recent events, his role of drawing his blade for others remained the same. What did change was the way they looked upon each other. Mila was, put simply, not the pain in the ass she used to be. She listened - for it kept her safe. But beyond that, she was human around him. She was not pomp and circumstance twenty-four, seven. She did her job, but the crown came off.

And she found him funny. Bonus points. All these things combined led to a reality where Hisashi did not mind his role of Captain of the Queensguard. It was demanding, yes. Large social affairs made it a headache, yes. But he did not mind it. And, for the most part, moments like these were like a bonus.

He chuckled as she giggled at his quip, responding with her own sharp wit. She could handle batting away rich folks on her own? Really now? "Is that so? I'm sure I have a bat somewhere. We can drape it in gold, call it the Queen's Peace." Ah, she had heard about the...dressing room. Well, that was fair. He laughed aloud nonetheless. "Tell you what," he began, attempting to mimic the lofty tone of her Councilor Vemric. "Carve me out a piece of your evening, and we'll call it even. Tut-tut-tut, noblenoblenoble." It was hard not to snort and laugh. Oh how he'd love to battle the Fleet Marshal in wits one good time - see that pallid face turn red with indignation.

In any case. When the bow was rendered, her royal highness shook her head. He offered his arm for her to take, but she did not accept right away. Rather, she stepped closer. Then closer. Enough so that her perfume announced her proximity. Enough so that he found his bottom lip drawing behind his fang involuntarily. She set about adjusting his collar - the same one that had been fussed over by multiple hands only moments before. Then her fingers brushed away "dust" from his form. Hisashi did not move, outside of keeping his eyes where they belonged - on the monarch. This...Well, he certainly didn't mind. Afterwards, she took his arm at last. He cleared his throat and nodded, saying: "I'm glad you approve."

But with that said, there was nothing else to do but make their appearance. Long live the Queen and all that. The servants opened the door and the Queensguard walked in step towards the ballroom.

Now, his job truly began.

​

 

[Darth Metus]

W A L T Z​

You are here.

The symphony of her waking voice was as music to her domain. Though the depths of her might were diminished, the Vault of Glass did not care. It was evident that the throne welcomed the return of its Queen. It was evident that the primordial dark welcomed the rise of its Mistress. As she rose from her slumber, aided by the flowing locks that moved on their own accord, she would find the amber hues of the Sith watching. Waiting. There was a patience found within his expression. The quiet satisfaction that came with one, single reality: Devotion. It was this truth that drove him to be present, amidst the ceaseless abyss. It was this reality that made his lips curve into a smile when she uttered the words: You should not be.

"As I should be." came her response.

Though she required no assistance to rise, the man offered his dominant hand to the woman. She would not yet know the depths of understanding he had found in the Deep. Yet, as the hours rolled into days, she would. Such was her nature. There was nothing about the Sith Lord that she did not intimately come to learn. It was her gift. Perhaps, it was how she cultivated such Devotion for the man. She always said that they were out of sync. That he was not as he should be. Perhaps, now, he was there. Or at least close. She would be the judge of that. In the here and now...

He knew that the festivities were beneath her. She never enjoyed them - not on Illyria and certainly Naboo would be no different. If anything, to bring her to such a Gala was as presenting a hunter to its most succulent prey. Or an artist to its most flawless canvas. Within the Primordial Being rested a desire to consume or to contort. And a large part of Darth Metus understood. He was an alchemist, after all, one which spat in the eye of creation and twisted its designs to his whim. He knew what it felt like to look upon fresh steel and feel the drive to create. Only, he imagined, her urges were far greater. Yet, because he had asked, she subjected herself to mingling with mere mortals. She subjected herself to the arm of the Vicelord and entered the party at his side.

The confession which fell from her lips was jarring. She would never admit weakness, but spoke simply of the fact of the day. She was immaculate. She held more grace then ten thousand nobles upon ten thousand thrones. Yet, she now strode among them, dimished. What she did not say spoke volumes. She was dimished...for him. She endured this sordid state of being for him. This, he would never forget. As they strode deeper within the festivities, finding the waltzing floor, his offhand briefly came to settle atop hers. There she'd feel the whispers. Hear the echo of the abyss. of that Nether, that realm she claimed Queenship and Godship over. For his name was written in the Deep, for his domain had been seized.

And from it came sustenance. The touch was only a morsal - a gift for the sacrifice of her time, effort, and restraint. A sign of gratitude for joining him here, when she could so easily tramble all underfoot. The morsel was just that - a small boon. Barely an appetizer. But it was something. Equal to months of rest within the Vault. Something that he could not have given before her slumber. He certainly had done something, and it was to her benefit. Devotion, plain and simple.

"It was not in vain."

And shortly thereafter, her tone was that same persistent confidence. If we are to duel, I will win. Of that, he had little doubt. Within her rested the experience of eons. Even his mastery of Death paled in comparison to it. Darth Metus was mighty, far greater than man who called themselves Sith in the Galaxy. Yet, what was a man before a God. Despite this, he was knuckle-headed. So much so that his smile was radiant in the face of her challenge. He had no reason to feel this bold, this confident, and yet he did. He shared a jest - a promise not to step upon her feet - but it was met with a silent promise. Her gaze vowed crucifixion if he did. As per the norm.

Thus, he settled his offhand on the small of her back and led the dance. His steps were lively and to the rhythm of the music. His grin never wavered. "For now? Are you going to dip me, Elyria?"

Knowing her, that was a distinct possibility.
​

 

[Adron Malvern]

CASTAGNE​

Tags: Alessandra Creed ​

There was something about the way Alessandra spoke that always brought a smile to Adron's lips. Honestly it was an infernal trait she had that infuriated him. As an Exarch of the Confederacy it would not do for him to walk around smiling like a love-struck fool. Yet, here he was with his lips curled up into that same smile only she could draw from him. Now when Alessandra mentioned Geonosis, the man couldn't help but have his smile falter as he considered the world. "Geonosis. Arid, hot, and dusty. How beautiful a world." For Adron who grew up in the coldest of mountains on the impressively beautiful world of Serenno a planet like Geonosis had little use to him other than functioning as a Galactic Parking Lot.

As they took their stance upon the dance floor and Alessandra spoke of children, a slight chuckle slipped from Adron's lips. "Sharing? It never has been my strong suit. However, for a little daughter? I'm sure special considerations could be made." He said with the slightest of mischievous gleams coming to his eyes, one that Alessandra would recognize well.

As they continued to move along the dance floor they fell in step with the rest of the couples, creating a beautifully organized hall of dance. As they moved, they were able to enjoy a bit of free conversation, something else that Adron enjoyed. There was nothing quite like it to the Exarch. It was more than her warm hand resting in his, it was the soft press of her off-hand into his shoulder. The subtle scent that flowed from her hair, reminding him of every warm embrace and precious kiss they had shared together. It was something more than a single moment, it was every single happy intimate moment that they enjoyed together. It was love.

"Aries is safe." He said with no shortness of consideration. No, it was not merely that the Crowned Prince was safe. He was untouchable. Along with the heavy defensive platforms that existed to defend the planet of Illyria, there was the thousand and one safeguards instilled, not just on Illyria, that were designed to protect one thing, Aries. It had been over a year since the small, innocent Prince had stepped into the galaxy and the moment Adron laid his eyes upon the small, soft cheeks his son held, Illyria's defense budget had exploded to rival any planet in the galaxy. No expense had been spared and no condition had not been considered.

It was very easy, because Adron was a man who truly believed in fear.

"We will always be safe, my love." He assured Alessandra, their step faltering a half-second so he could adjust to pull his wife an inch or two closer.

"Castagne it is. I will make the preparations. You need only prepare yourself to do that thing we don't do much of. You know, relax?" He said, teasing Alessandra with a soft smirk coming to his lips.

"Even the House of the Wolf needs its rest." He said with a soft sigh.
​

​

 

[Fauvel Astier]

Waltz

Wearing: XxX.
Tagging: Abel Denko

She saw some amount of recognition shine in Abel's eyes, although this was no surprise. King Adron was an Exarch, Queen Alessandra the Minister of Commerce. The Monarchs rubbed elbows with those of the highest echelons of the Confederacy, it was to be expected then for Illyria to be a name known by its relevant members. Fauvel wished she shared in such general knowledge, to her the immensity of the galaxy was a fairly new concept and although she prided herself in being a fast learner, there was only so much one could incorporate in a given amount of time.

The Lady knew the gaze of her sisters and guardians would follow them briefly, but given the whole event was supposed to be a safe environment, she was also certain that it wouldn't take long until Sanne and Sennet found something else to entertain themselves with besides keeping an eye on her. The priestesses had always been impartial to social events, but they were also well aware that it would do them well to mingle and get to know these new people. This was the new Illyrian reality, and Fauvel found herself enjoying it so far.

"The honor is mine, Lord Denko." For a moment she considered calling him by his first name. Even though her serious nature often made others believe otherwise, Fauvel was not one that gave too much importance to formalities. It was so easy to fake courtesy that she no longer saw the value in it. Respect was important, but a form of addressing did not equal respect. She had a feeling Abel might share her opinion, but deciding to play it safe she referred to him in the way that would be considered proper by any other noble for the time being.

A soft laugh came from her at his last comment, her smirk widening a bit into an amused smile. Imitating the rest of the couples, her free hand moved to rest delicately on his shoulder, "I promise you won't be." In any case, they could be a disappointment together. Fauvel was very well acquainted with the 'fake it till you make it' method, but even that needed at least a few moments of practice until produced its desired effect: not stick out like the ungraceful couple in the dance floor. It was good that Abel had set a slow, easy pace to begin with.

For a moment, her rose eyes wondered through the crowd once more. New faces seemed to appear with every blink of her lashes, it was a miracle that the hall could comfortably accommodate everyone. Finally, they came to rest once more on Abel, a brow lightly raised in curiosity. "How many people here do you know?" Raised to become the Head of her House, Fauvel knew to recognize most of the Illyrian noble men and women of relevance. It was something she took pride in, but given the sheer size of the Confederacy she knew it would be foolish to aspire to do the same here. Not that this would stop her from attempting, networking was nothing if not vital for a noble.

 

[Vemric Keldra]

TAG: Stardust Solus Skirae | Open​

Stardust proudly explained her return to Naboo as they danced. Patriotism was always to be admired. He may not have been born on Naboo, but he has lived here most of his life. He shared the unwavering loyalty. For nearly a century, he had been fighting for this planet and it's affiliation. Defection was a word that did not exist in Vemric's vocabulary.
"It is good to know that the planet is still cared for by its citizens." he said aloofly as they swayed. He could hear Maja grumbling at him for being stuck up. Just accept it, darling.

As they flew across the floor during the final movements of the song, he spoke again.
"Has your investigation into the death of the previous Queen delivered any results?" he asked, mildly interested. He was curious as to who cold pull something like that off without being seen. Either that or someone doesn't want to talk. The poor fool, then. Vemric was a resilient man, but he wouldn't want to be stuck in an interrogation chamber with both the Councillor of War and the Councillor of Whispers. It could get messy.

As the song came to an end, he accompanied her from the floor. He could still hear Maja grumbling at him. Fine.
"I do apologise for my reservation tonight, Miss Stardust." he said with a slight bow. "It has been years since I have set foot on a dancefloor." he added as he straightened back into his military posture. Maja let out a huff in his head, but he did hear a better from her, nonetheless. She should know better than to expect him to wear his heart on his sleeve. Soldiers and talking about their feelings don't integrate well.

 

[Lyra Vent]

TAG: Yusha | Brina Helvig​

WEARING: x​

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Lyra returned the woman named Brina's grin. It was quite satisfying to drag out a man's soul. The secrets could get interesting.​

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She looked back at the man named Yusha as he explained the presence of the fugly wallet. She suppressed a snort at his smooth manner and flashed a coy smile instead. It seemed she was not the only one playing games tonight. It could become an interesting impasse.​

"How kind of you." she said with a knowing lilt in her voice.​

​

Play along.​

​

He seemed to catch sight of his faux quarry heading into a tea parlour and then made another smooth suggestion to them. The fact that he was intent on learning her name, made Lyra snicker. She looked over at Brina.​

"Well, it seems a tea parlour was just around the corner, after all." she smiled. She then looked back at Yusha. "I've been looking for some tea. For my name, it better be some good tee, though." she quipped, still smiling.​

​

The ruse continues.​

​

She followed to the parlour, hopefully to get some good final dirt for the Ministry.​

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

this planets gone through so much...and unlike most royalty the nabooian royalty is highly loyal to its people including the gungans we live alongside

If he was being stuck up stardust didnt catch it, if anything it was the truth now days, most people now days were loyal to themselves or to credits and would do anything to gain profit for themselves. The two continued to sway as his next question came to her making her head tilt in thought and sigh shaking it

whoever did it wasnt a amateur, their proving quite difficult to smoke out....but ive once we've got their trail it will not be long until we zero in

The responsibility of finding the killer had rested on her shoudlers as well as the councilor of whispers and voph, but stardust knew that once she found this killer death would be but a mercy to them.

The song ended and they moved from the floor back to the side, stardust wore a big smile on her face as she turned to vemric and bowed back

been awhile since ive been able to properly enjoy myself vemric...life has been not kind as of late...this is truely the first time in awhile ive had time to...not be the emerald dragon

She trailed off in that last word, looking down for a second then smiled looking to him as she leaned closer

thank you truely vemric

 

[Cordelia Malkavian]

Waltz​

​

Tags: Rience ​

Attire: [X] ​

Even with the beautiful complexion of her companion doing it's best to hide the color that had stained his cheeks, Cordelia knew it was there. The heat alone that accompanied such hidden color would have been enough to alert her, seconded only to the rush of life's blood through his veins as his heart beat just a little faster due to her comment. A fact which made Delia smirk just ever so much more broadly than she already had been, and the lids of her eyes to droop almost to half mast. "Adorable." she stated at him, and how many other could ever get away with calling Rience as such? None that she could recall right off hand - not that she would mind nor argue were someone else to call him as such. He was after all, a sight to behold and Delia had no fear of him being gawked at. After all, at the end of the day it was Cordelia herself that he was going home with.​

​

But those were thoughts on the backburner of her mind; she was here in the moment, and here to enjoy it. The contents of her flute were finished off and the glass passed on to free her hands, one of which reached behind herself so that she could rest her hand against his. She did not try to move his hand, nor steer it one direction or the other - clearly she didn't mind it's placement. Why would she? Delia was not one to embarrass easy, and she had no qualms with others seeing. Besides, all things considered between she and Rience, a touch low on her person was mild in comparison to what it could be.​

​

"Now then," Delia made way with him to a space out on the floor, then shifted herself so that she was facing him. For only a moment she studied him in this closeness, and the hardened edges of her expression melted into a fondness that only he had ever seen from her. Because of this, she reached a hand up to touch his face, allowing her fingers to splay against his cheek and jawline for just a moment longer before her hand fell away so that the pair of them could take up dancing position. "While I would certainly appreciate not having my feet stepped on, I promise not to rip the room asunder if it happens." She smiled playfully, just to show that she was teasing. Though in all honesty she could do it over much less than having her toes stepped on in dance.​

​

"I also promise to let you lead." she added, and her smile returned to that cocky, trademark smirk once more.​

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[Teyla Sal-Soren]

W A L T Z
Tags: Open​

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Wearing: Front, Back​

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Teyla settled small dangling earrings into her lobes that had a silver-gold sheen to them, much like the highlights of the deep veridian and midnight gown that glittered when the light caught it in certain angles. It’s complicated design exposed her shoulders and collarbone, while a golden-luminescent inlay highlighted the hourglass of her curved hips and narrow waist. Her hair that she left unbound was dark and deep, luminous, a rich chestnut brown with golden light that had seemingly seeped into each strand and settled in gentle curls at the end. With it, she bore a strand of precious blue-green gems that sat nestled against the smooth skin of her honey-brown neck, with black strappy stilettos that peeked out from behind the slit that rested high on her thigh. ​

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She took a step back from the mirror to examine herself one last time. It had been a long while since she had ‘dressed up’ for anything so extravagant. The Queen’s coronation, to be exact. ​

​

It was only shortly thereafter when tragedy struck Naboo, and the planet mourned the loss of their young Queen. The Ee’everwest family hadn't the luxury to dwell on problems outside their control, however, and had paid it little mind. They'd been cut to the bone with a deep sorrow all their own when the unimaginable happened, forcing what remained of the family to turn away their attention from the world they cherished, to mourn the sudden loss of their loved ones. ​

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Each of the remaining daughters had dealt with the grief in their own ways. Alora, her eldest sister, had spent weeks reviewing floor plans for the new estate, holed up in their Father’s study of their family summer home where they were staying temporarily in Lake Country, bearing the brunt of all the paperwork and tedious details that came after death. Osenia, the youngest, had scoured through Theed for the best artists their world had to offer, commissioning statues shaped after the likeness of their parents and elder brother to honor them.​

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While she, Teyla, had set off on a mission with Baros and Valere to bring the one responsible to justice, an endeavor that ended with more questions and mysteries than answers… and had ultimately brought her no sense of closure by the end of it. ​

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By this point, it was almost a running joke. ​

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She couldn’t get closure for her parents or brother, and she was still no closer to the truth behind what had happened to her late husband, Damon. These were her failures, and what most often kept her up at night. ​

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For now, however, there was nothing more to be said or done about it. With Baros gone hunting the rest of the Disciples, and herself under the ever watchful eye of the Isoto's droid, it was time to put what had happened aside and move forward with life. ​

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There was work to be done, training to attend, and obligations to fulfill. That would be proper. That would be expected. The rest of the galaxy moved forward. ​

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Grieving was only tolerated so long. ​

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With a final smoothing of her gown, Teyla deemed herself ready and grabbed her invitation and any other necessary forms of identification, glancing briefly at the chrono on the wall and hastening her steps. The night was already well started, and she was late, not fashionably so. ​

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_____________________________________________________________
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A short ride later saw Teyla outside the doors of the Confederate building, its imposing firmament draped in the banners of Confederate colors alongside an array of Naboo pageantry. Inside, the decor and architecture was even more radiantly crafted. Some might call it magnificent, and it certainly was a sight to behold, especially with the diversity of individuals filling its halls.​

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Luca had mentioned the possibility of coming out tonight from wherever it was that he’d been stationed. Naturally, Teyla took stock from her vantage point to try and spot him, but to no avail. ​

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Amongst the sea of people, however, she did notice a few women from her own past. Other retired handmaidens like herself, who’d served under Queen Abrehayda from years before. At one time they’d been a close lot, forging bonds under conditions that would be most generously described as adverse. After the Queen’s retirement, they’d all drifted apart and gone on to live their own lives, but it nonetheless brought a slight smile to her face to see them in such a relaxed environment. ​

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With a sigh, she finally found a comfortable center where she felt brave enough to venture fully in, Teyla lifted a gather of her dress in one hand and prepared to mingle with the rest of the fold. ​

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[Luca Ioneşti]

Waltz​

Wearing: This
Tags: Teyla Sal-Soren | Open

Time was more and more precious, these days.

Swept up in the needs of the Confederacy, he'd spent more days away from the world that was his assigned 'home' than on it as of late, so much so that even Rothe had, in some manner, protested his absence. The work of helping yet another world rebuild, giving counsel to those that had been made to feel lost, at least, distracted from the reality of the woman that he called 'padawan', that what had come to pass and what she had left to do soon after gave him concern, and he had scarcely seen her since that departure, though being made aware of her movements.

Being pulled away himself, he could do little more than provide scant guidance at a distance, the last of these being a holocron and his faith in her, until three days prior when knowledge that his assignment was coming to an end aligned with a gala celebrating the second coronation since his initial arrival on Naboo, the Vandorian knight sent word of his possible appearance. He wasn't even sure he would be able to make it for the night's festivities, but with some considerable insistence that seeing to his student's well-being and training was paramount (and biting his tongue over derisive thoughts about the cutthroat nature of nobility), Luca shipped out early.

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His arrival, with the gala in full swing, saw him divested of the scent of deep work and cigarras, and several days growth trimmed back to a neat look. With a little assistance from Rothe in finding something decent on his way in from the assignment, he slipped into the collection of complementary blues, perhaps a shade too casual for a gala, but that suited him fine. He turned this way and that, looking himself over in the mirror, as another rousing tune spun up in another part of the headquarters that he'd yet to find time to move out of.

"That'll do," he said low, to himself; then, with a quip from Rothe that he looked plenty pretty enough, coming from the doorway to his bare, hardly-lived-in quarters, Luca shot the younger man a warning glance, and slipped out the door around him, muttering something about binding the other Vandorian to the ceiling as he made his way to the hall where many a fine lady and lord was no doubt twirling and twittering. Minutes later saw him at the threshold, at the end of a corridor that fed into the room, spying Teyla just as her gaze swept away from where he now was, his eyes on her, and having a hard time of looking away.

"Do you stalk all your students?"

It may not have broken his gaze, but he could split his attention well enough.

"I mean it, Rothe. Fethin' Force Glue you to the ceiling... by your gorram ear."

Rothe chuckled, clapping Luca on the back.

"Well, enjoy yourself, stalker... I'm gonna hunt me some drink."

And then he was alone. When his gaze was broken with his... surprisingly dressed student moving out of view, Luca shoved off his lean in the doorway, straightened himself out, and emerged, entering the fray, letting the mix of music, chatter, and movement wash over him and pass, as he wound through the celebratory many, thinking, perhaps, that Rothe had it right, that a drink was in order, steeling himself to not specifically look at her, having found he might not be able to look away.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting - she was a woman, not much younger than himself, but trying to reconcile that with the last time he had seen Teyla in finery wasn't working. The last time was what he expected. The fashion matched his conceptions of nobility. This... he blew out a breath and shook his head in at himself, in disbelief.

Get ahold of yourself, man.

He couldn't be in the business of avoiding padawans, and as much as she was a grown woman, he was as such on the opposite end of the spectrum, so when mental push came to shove, Luca set his jaw and peered about for the nearest purveyor of libations, to free them of not one glass, but two.

 

[Kiff Brayde]

D A N C E

Tag: Cazo Thraos | Amelia von Sorenn
Wearing: x

Whoever Caso Thraos was, Kiff had to admit, she was good at this. The political aspect to the military, the one that required the same tactical knowledge but a different application. Kiff only managed to get through that part with smooth-talking and general abstinence from wherever the center of the Confederacy was; whether it was Geonosis or Naboo, Kiff had found it infinitely more comfortable to sit back on his office on Fondor. Or on the Victator.

But the Victator was gone, and Kiff didn't like to dredge up those memories.

He gestured casually around the room in response to her question. "I think it's stated somewhere in job requirements to be able to attend a couple of parties. It does help break up the monotony of patrols, which seems to be everything anyone is doing after the Rodia Crisis," Kiff said, his initial tone lighter but dropping off slightly when he mentioned Rodia. He had purposely left Talay after the statement, and he didn't want to think about it. Not now.

"Take a walk with me?" Kiff asked, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts. "The bars here are stocked way better than whatever Naval Academy or the Rimma Sector has to offer," he added, pointing towards the side of the room where a droid bartender was serving partygoers drinks.
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[Lunara Azure]

Location: Naboo | Theed | Viceroy Hall Gardens
Wearing: Fabulousness
Tagging: Gerwald Lechner | Open

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“You know, I think that’s once of life little mysteries that will forever go unsolved, like where does all that food you eat go.”

The blonde lapsed into silence for a moment, crystal blue eyes took on a faraway look, staring at the statue she’d created. Delicate fingers played across the surface of the wine glass before the woman let out a small breath, her shoulders seeming to slump.

“Memories, I’m thinking about memories.”

Her free hand came up, gesturing at the tree that stood glistening in the middle of the garden, it’s crystal branches catching the light and breaking it up into rainbows that danced across it’s surface.

“Where I grew up, we didn’t have any of this, the palaces, the large open spaces, the…ostentation.”

Lunara’s voice was quiet, the words almost drawn out of her in spite of herself. The ex-princess was generally a very private person, opening herself up to others just wasn’t how she’d been trained or brought up but there was something about tonight, the garden the wine maybe or the mood but she found herself opening up.

“We used to dream about it, having this much space to play in, this much greenery. On field-trips and in movies we could see it, how some people lived, but not us. All we had was a patch of dirt and an old apple tree…I really loved that apple tree you know. It made us special. We’d all make sure no weeds grew up around it, and we’d clamber all over it. Then I grew up, abbeys and schools, palaces and churches. I saw them all, all the space and all the trees. We’re here, in this huge garden…but no-ones going to love it. People might think of it as a convenience, a place to go on a walk, or to talk to a friend. Maybe to have lunch when the weather’s nice, but if it wasn’t here they wouldn’t miss it. They wouldn’t burst into tears because it was taken away.”

A single hand swung out to encompass the grounds, the building behind them.

“All of this is just putting on a show, but think how the space, the money could have been used. Think how many children could have apple trees in this space if it wasn’t reserved for the Viceroys and showing the galaxy how splendid we are. How many little girls could climb the branches, see the city and dream about living there. Fall asleep under the trees. We would have killed for a garden even a tenth of this size, some people actually did.”

A sip of wine, leaning back against the stone bench. A deep breath and a wry smile.

“That little girl would have been amazed at what I’ve done, at what I’ve seen. And all I can think about is an old apple tree.”

 

[Abel Denko]

W A L T Z​

Tag: Fauvel Astier

Left Foot. Right Foot.

Shortly after stepping out onto the dance floor, the Lord of House Denko gently led in the slow waltz. Though the steps were completely foreign to the Nar Shaddaa native, he was observant enough to see his peers cutting a rug professionally just nearby. Some were draped upon their partners with utter adoration in their eyes. Others added an extravagant flair to every movement, as if to say "look at me, I am noble." That alone was enough to nearly make the man chuckle - for the wealthy always seemed to be doing the most. From what he was able to witness, the steps were not complex. One foot after the other.

Careful not to catch his partner's foot nor dress. Easy enough.

In a sense, it was almost akin to learning how to wield a lightsaber properly. There were steps involved in making sure one's hands or head were not removed unintentionally. Abel had learned his own forms from his mentor, Serian Loria - and being comfortable in those, he felt the waltz was simple enough to pick up. Thus far he was right; and his lovely partner would not be subjected to any undue embarassment. After kind pleasantries were exchanged, and his sly observations of the dance floor concluded, his gaze was settled firmly where it belonged. Upon the rose colored eyes of the Illyrian noble.

She asked a question, how many people did he know here. His lips pursed ever so slightly in thought. "Let's see..." he began, quickly thinking of how many faces he recognized so far. "On a personal basis? Very few. Mostly members of the Knights Obsidian to be honest. How's about yourself?" His response was punctuated by a bold maneuver - a step away, leading into a light twirl of her person before returning to their former position. Abel afforded himself a pat on the back for not karking that one up.

The night was still young, however.​

 

[Fauvel Astier]

Waltz

Wearing: XxX.
Tagging: Abel Denko

Fauvel fell into rhythm with him with ease, finding a flowing form of synchronicity in his step that she could follow. The Young Lady had been intrigued by the confederacy and its people since the very arrival of the monarchs, now almost two years ago. Now, her curiosity was placed solely on Abel.

Her rose gaze followed his through the crowds, trying to commit the faces he settled on to memory almost out of habit. Fauvel was not used to being the one with the lesser knowledge, and she was taking every step available towards trying to rectify this. She had much to learn, but to someone who had done nothing but learn time and time again throughout her life, this did not seem like too great a challenge.

“The Knights Obsidian…I have been considering joining your ranks. I am an apprentice myself; I wonder what differences there are between my home-land’s teachings and the organization’s.” Blood Reign was renowned for its affluency in force-users, mainly due to the presence of the Ashen Church in the region, whose priesthood was composed solely of those attuned to the Force, and the fact that, because of their ascendency, most if not all of the Astier’s were sensitive to a degree. Had she not been the youngest and therefore the Heir, Fauvel would have joined the Ashen Priests and the Sïlma.

She twirled effortlessly before returning to their original position, a small smirk on her lips offered to Abel at the success of the maneuver. Smooth and elegant, it seemed as though they would survive this dance with no embarrassments. “I’m afraid the answer to that is short. Unless they are Illyrian, then you are my only acquaintance in this hall. I have only recently been able to leave Illyria, my duties often keep me within my province.” An understatement, but she was pleased to find herself with more time in her hands in more recent days.

 

[Saraya Arenais]

W A L T Z​

Tag: Hisashi​

Wearing [x]​

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Having never possessed the sheer courage it often took to compliment Hisashi, Mila mused on the thought she had never mentioned how charming his smile was. It was brief window into the man behind the sword, the heart behind the steel. Much like a pricey jewel or a plant on the brink of extinction, it was a rare and beautiful sight.

She released a burst of tinkling bell-like laughter at his comment. “I like the sound of that. The Queen's Peace.” The giggle still on her lips as she repeated the phrase, which only seemed to grow again when Hisashi imitated the stern but loyal Councillor of Commerce. “Don't let Vemric hear you doing that. You might scare a solid ninety percent of my staff but I'm afraid you missed the mark with him.” Mila made a show of setting the fabrics of her dress correctly before she took Hisashi's arm to walk through the open door, followed by a host of servants and Queensguard.

Fortunately, unlike many others, the walk to the ballroom was a short one from her room. The corridor was filled with nothing but the soft sound of her heels clicking against the polished marble. Silence was comfortable with Hisashi. In their earlier days, he had preferred it, and Mila had grown quickly accustomed to it when she was with him. The young monarch found herself unsure on whether that meant she was comfortable with him, or simply used to his ways. Or, if the two had somehow merged into one? Either way, despite their rocky beginning, he was fast becoming one of her most trusted advisors. One of the few people who got to see Mila the woman, and not Mila the monarch.

They reached the ballroom doors, which were promptly swung open by a pair of footmen dressed in silver threads. A booming voice followed, announcing both Mila and Hisashi to the quickly growing crowd gathered in the center of the room. Mila, as expected, put on a charming smile. It was natural for her by now, when surrounded by people. Her companion on the other hand...

The sharp point of Mila's elbow dug gently into his side. “Smile.” She mummer through her pearl white teeth as they descended the stairs together. She didn't need to look at him to confirm that his face had remained as stoic as the day they'd met. That was natural for him. “I promise you our first destination is that wine tray over there.” Her eyes flickered from the sea of strange faces to the nimble servants picking their way through the crowds with silver trays topped with goblets of scarlet liquid. Hopefully, that would get him grinning a little, but regardless of that...

Mila was just as invested in them as Hisashi likely was right now. Even the most confident of souls sometimes needed a little Corellian courage.​

 

[Teyla Sal-Soren]

W A L T Z
Tags: Luca Ioneşti

Wearing: Front, Back

Teyla endeavored to be as polite and courteous as possible to those who approached her, smiling and mingling for a brief moment before she pardoned herself from her current company and once again moved through the dizzying room filled with Lords and Ladies dressed down in their best garish silks and glittering gems, having finally caught sight of Luca.

“I’m glad to see you made it,” Teyla said with exuberant sincerity, her soft lips stretching into a smile and giving him a quick once-over. She wasn’t used to seeing him in anything but his Jedi robes, which he always seemed to have an endless supply of, nor could her delicate nose detect a whiff of cigara smoke lingering on his person. Color her impressed!

“I’m guessing Rothe picked out your outfit? It looks nice.” She smiled, hint of humor in her tone, though she doubted he would find any amusement in it. If there was anything she'd learned about Luca Ioneşti, it was that he was as hard and cold as the snow filled tundra he came from.

She waited a moment, two, for him to say something...anything.

A delicately sculpted brow raised and she studied him with her warm chestnut eyes before taking a step towards him and linking her arm with his, her eyes respectfully pointed in the direction where the voice announcing the arrival of the new Queen boomed. Teyla glanced sidelong at Luca, gave him a little nudge and whispered, “Come on, do you always have to scowl like there’s an ice pick shoved up your backside? This is supposed to be a celebration… and if I can pretend to enjoy myself for one night, then so can you.”

 

[Cazo Thraos]

Kiff Brayde

Patrols.

Somethimg she didn't mind doing to much considering it gave her the chance to get chance to get comfortable in her sector of space. The mention of a better alcohol selection garnered a break in her usual stoic look however.

"Given that drinking was prohibited it is certainly a better selection than the academy." She let her tone fall towards the lighter side of a mood.

The offer of a walk interested her far more than being an awkward wall flower, and being in the company of the high marshal certainly would offer a better experience than being said wallflower.

"Let's take a walk then."She nodded, following his lead." She chuckled at the thought of the high admiral being bored on patrol. "Patrols are generally a good time to take stock Mr. Brayde, but counting the same stock does get boring after a time. How have you been filling time?"