Faction (DIA) Lanters and Laughter, Hearts Beneath Bastion's Stars

[Misfits Delight]

DIARCHY INTERNAL COMMUNIQUE

PRIORITY LEVEL: STANDARD
DISTRIBUTION: ALL ACTIVE PERSONNEL | AFFILIATES | CIVILIAN MEMBERS | HONORARY ASSOCIATES
ORIGIN: OFFICE OF CIVIC MORALE & INTERPERSONAL DEVELOPMENT
LOCATION: BASTION
SUBJECT: ANNUAL HEARTS' DAWN SOCIAL — "HEARTS BENEATH BASTION'S STARS"

---

By directive of the Diarchy Council, all members of the Diarchy are hereby informed of the scheduling of the annual Hearts' Dawn social gathering, designated:

"Hearts Beneath Bastion's Stars."

This event is authorized as part of the Diarchy's ongoing morale, cohesion, and community development initiative.

During the gathering, all standard operational activities within the designated venue will be suspended. No briefings, drills, intelligence reviews, or training exercises will be conducted.

Attendance is voluntary.

Participation is encouraged.

---

EVENT DETAILS

Date: Hearts' Dawn Cycle (Standard Galactic Calendar)
Time: 1900–2400 Local
Venue: Bastion Sky Pavilion — High-Altitude Observation Terrace

The Sky Pavilion has been prepared with climate control, ambient lighting, and civic décor consistent with Diarchy cultural standards. Panoramic transparisteel walls and balcony access will provide unobstructed views of Bastion's skyline and surrounding starfields.

A restricted harmonic field has been authorized to promote emotional equilibrium and mental clarity. Force-sensitive attendees may perceive mild atmospheric resonance. No adverse effects are anticipated.

---

AMENITIES & PROGRAMMING

Authorized provisions will include:

• Warm and chilled spiced beverages
• Herbal and fruit-infused teas
• Light wines and non-alcoholic alternatives
• Prepared pastries and desserts
• Nutrient-dense protein selections

Musical programming will be provided by a licensed live ensemble and holographic accompaniment. Initial selections will emphasize low-tempo atmospheric compositions, with limited high-tempo tracks scheduled later in the cycle.

Supplementary social stations will be available, including:

• Anonymous message terminal ("Star-Note")
• Holo-imaging booth
• Partner dance registry
• Digital lantern release interface

---

PARTICIPATION GUIDELINES

All attendees are expected to:

• Conduct themselves with respect and professionalism
• Observe Diarchy interpersonal conduct standards
• Refrain from unauthorized surveillance or data recording
• Maintain venue security integrity

Formal uniforms are not required. Civilian or ceremonial attire is permitted and encouraged.

---

OBJECTIVE

This gathering is intended to strengthen interpersonal bonds, encourage mutual trust, and foster positive social development across all branches and divisions of the Diarchy. Shared non-operational experiences are recognized as essential to long-term cooperation, morale, and institutional resilience.

Informal social interaction is considered a key component of this objective.

---

CLOSING STATEMENT

The Diarchy recognizes that duty is sustained not only through discipline, but through connection.

All members are encouraged to attend, participate, and engage in good faith.

Let this evening serve as a reminder that even on Bastion, there is room for warmth beneath the stars.

---

END COMMUNIQUE
AUTHORIZED BY:
Office of Civic Morale & Interpersonal Development
Diarchy Central Administration

 

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

The lift rose in near silence, its gentle hum blending seamlessly with the distant murmur of music and voices that drifted down from the Sky Pavilion above, creating a soft anticipation that wrapped around them long before they reached their destination.

Jairdain stood beside Jax with an easy, familiar closeness, one hand resting lightly on his arm while the other drifted now and then to the gentle curve of her stomach, a gesture so unconscious it felt like breathing. Even before the doors opened, she could sense the atmosphere waiting for them on the other side, a layered mixture of emotion softened by music, anticipation threaded with a rare kind of ease, and tension deliberately set aside for a few precious hours of reprieve.

When the doors finally parted, warm light spilled inward in a slow, welcoming wash.

The Bastion Sky Pavilion stretched out before them beneath its vast transparisteel dome, where the stars above shimmered like scattered silver dust. Floating lanterns drifted lazily through the air, and soft illumination bathed the space in gentle shades of gold and blue, catching on polished floors and glass railings until everything seemed to glow. Laughter mingled with low conversation, weaving with the slow rhythm of the ensemble into something delicate, almost fragile, in its calm.

Jairdain drew a small, steadying breath and stepped forward with him, letting the moment settle around her.

She was not dressed for a ceremony, nor for politics, nor for anything that demanded posture or performance.

Her long, flowing dress moved in layered shades of deep blue and pale silver, the silk shifting with each step, soft and unrestrictive. It had been tailored with quiet thoughtfulness, allowing space for her pregnancy without drawing attention to it, embracing the change in her body rather than disguising it. The material gathered gently beneath her chest before falling in smooth, uninterrupted lines to her ankles, elegant in a way that did not need to announce itself.

A sheer, lightweight scarf rested loosely around her shoulders and trailed down her back like a wisp of mist, offering comfort more than ornamentation.

Her hair was worn down, long and dark, falling freely over her shoulders and along her back, catching the warm light each time she moved. There were no pins, no rigid styling, no attempt at formality. Only simple care and a quiet confidence that needed nothing more.

No weapons were visible. No insignia. No markers of rank or title.

Just Jairdain, present as herself.

She paused for a heartbeat just inside the entrance, orienting herself by sound, by presence, and by the subtle hum of the harmonic field that resonated through the space. The room unfolded in her awareness with gentle clarity: clusters of conversation gathered near the railings, shy laughter rising near the refreshments, and a knot of nervous energy slowly loosening near the dance floor as people allowed themselves to relax.

Good, she thought, letting the sense of it settle. Let them breathe.

Her fingers tightened briefly around Jax's arm, the touch affectionate and grounding, before she leaned slightly closer to him, her voice pitched for him alone.

"Well," she murmured, amusement threading through her tone with a warmth that softened the words, "no explosions, no emergencies, and no one glaring at us yet."

A small smile touched her lips, subtle but genuine.

"I think that means it's going well."

Her hand slid down to rest lightly over his, and then, almost without thought, drifted again to her stomach, where the faintest movement reminded her of the life she carried with her into this rare and gentle moment.

"I am glad we came together," she said quietly, her voice carrying a sincerity that needed no emphasis. "This feels important, even if only in its own small way."

With a calm assurance that came from choosing presence over duty, she guided them forward into the warm light and soft music, ready, for once, to simply exist beside him beneath Bastion's stars.

Jax Thio

 

[Dante Phantomhive]

Dante was sitting, wearing more elaborate clothes than the more discreet formal ones he usually wears, sipping his tea and looking around, and he had noticed that so far he was the only teenager there.

He sighed softly and glanced quickly at his data slate to check on his family's profits, then put the device away and continued drinking, trying to maintain a neutral expression while observing everyone in the room with his one eye.

 

[Kallous]

Kallous wasn't ordinarily one to attend gatherings of this nature. He was very much a secluded man, preferring his own space. Studies, meditations, practice or just general silence. So he didn't find himself going to these events very frequently when he wasn't working, or otherwise doing something on behalf of the Diarchy and its people. Though this time it was different.

He had invited a newfound friend of his, Seren Gwyn , as his guest. Following their initial introduction he had kept in contact with her, even after her initial visit to Bastion had come to a close. Now he had a chance to introduce her to his colleagues, who he knew would find her company refreshing, despite her allegiance to a rival faction. She'd demonstrated to him that she possessed tact and wisdom in equal measure, and he was not concerned that there would be any issue. He believed that his teacher, the Diarch, would even take a liking to the woman. With all of this in mind he'd invited her to attend with him.

Kallous stood at ease in the elevator as it ascended to the pavilion above where this soiree was being held, his hands clasped easily behind his back. His uniform freshly washed and pressed, and his hair and beard freshly groomed, perhaps a little more than normal. This wasn't to say he was an unkempt man in the day to day. But rather he had taken extra care to appear presentable tonight.

He would step off of the elevator and onto the pavilion floor when the elevator finally reached its zenith. This wasn't a place he'd visited much, and the sight was always something he found himself stopping to appreciate. A marvel of engineering moulded perfectly with a night's sky. That simple beauty didn't hold his attention overly long, but it was nevertheless something he stopped for every now and then. Turning his attention to the people he would finally begin to mingle with the people there. He wasn't sure who would attend, who he knew and who he had only met in passing, though he was sure he'd see a number of familiar faces here. And hopefully make a few more steps out of his shell.

After all he'd been seeking to make his life a complete one, and he could hardly do that alone, now could he?

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren emerged from the opposite lift only a few minutes after Kallous had stepped onto the pavilion floor, arriving with a timing so precise it felt choreographed. She was not late enough to seem careless, nor was she early enough to betray any hint of uncertainty; she simply appeared at the exact moment the gathering's rhythm seemed ready for her presence. Pausing at the threshold, she took a measured breath, her amber eyes sweeping across the expanse of open sky and the intricate latticework of transparent steel that housed the floating lanterns. While the beauty of the stars reflected in the polished surfaces was undeniable, she didn't let herself get lost in the scenery. Instead, her focus narrowed, filtering through the crowd and the hum of conversation until it locked onto the one person who mattered.

Rather than her usual understated coat, she had chosen an ensemble that felt like an extension of the Malachor shadows she commanded. She wore a floor-length, sleeveless gown of liquid obsidian silk, a fabric that didn't just catch the light, but seemed to swallow it. Over her shoulders draped a sheer, floor-length mantle of charcoal gossamer, woven with microscopic shards of crushed dark glass that shimmered like a dying nebula whenever she moved.

The gown featured a high, structured collar that framed her jawline with architectural precision, and a thin, silver-mesh belt cinched her waist, the only sharp contrast against the darkness of her attire. On her right wrist, she wore a single wide cuff of brushed hematite, etched with the faint, nearly invisible sigils of the Deep Abyss.

She carried herself with quiet, magnetic confidence as she crossed the pavilion, her movements fluid, the heavy silk of her gown whispering against the floor. When she finally reached Kallous, the distance between them vanished into a shared pocket of silence that ignored the bustle of the party around them. A faint, knowing smile touched her lips. An expression reserved for those who understood the weight of intent.

"Am I late?" she asked softly. The question was a courtesy, a gentle opening to the evening's dance rather than a true inquiry of the time.

Her amber eyes flicked over him, tracing the crisp lines of his uniform and the meticulous grooming of his appearance. There was an unmistakable warmth in her gaze, an appreciative acknowledgment of the effort he had clearly made for the occasion.

"You look remarkably presentable, Kallous," she added, her voice dropping to a silken, intimate register. "I suspect your colleagues will find themselves quite distracted by your presence tonight."

Settling into his space with the ease of a long-held secret, she stood beside him, her shoulder nearly brushing his. She folded her hands loosely in front of her, the gossamer of her mantle overlapping with the shadow of his uniform.

"And…thank you for inviting me," Seren said, her voice dropping any pretense of courtly performance to reveal a rare, sincere depth. "In a place full of noise, I am very glad to be here, with you."

Kallous

 

[Jax Thio]

Location: Bastion
Equipment: Formal Outfit, Jax's Prosthetic Arm, Jax's Third Lightsaber, Marriage Ring to Jairdain
Tag: Jairdain Ismet-Thio

Despite Jair working with the Diarchy, Jax didn't trust them. To Jax, the Faction may present themselves as benevolent people, but Jax had heard many of their questionable actions during their engagements with the Mandalorians. Jax wasn't a big fan of the Mandos but he did have respect for them and the Diarchy have been at their heels. "You know I'm surprised that you're so close to the Diarchy," Jax said interlacing his fingers with Jair's. "I would've thought that you would steer clear with them."

It was the thousandth time they had this argument. Part of Jax felt guilty for bringing it up but he was still floored that Jair and even Jayna Ismet-Thio would be so close to the Diarchy. It felt like a disconnect between the close knit family. "I'm just confused," Jax said sighing when Jair took his hand to rub her very large stomach. He always liked it when she dressed fancy: Simple yet elegant at the same time and he was very happy to see Jair show off more of her baby bump.

"So ummmm," Jax said. "How's the baby Jair? I'm sure with the kid growing in your stomach, it's starting to take a toll on your body especially your back and knees."

This was Jair's fifth child, it's amazing she was able to go through all those pregnancies. "But....." Jax sighed. "I'm happy that I'm with you Jair. There's a lot of things to say about the Diarchy but they know how to throw one hell of a party."

 

[Maximus Talos]

---

Bastion Sky Pavillion
Evening

Formal white-golden attire, Lightsaber at his belt

Jairdain Ismet-Thio | Dante Phantomhive | Kallous | Seren Gwyn | Jax Thio ​

---

The young man had not been on Bastion for long, but was equally indulgent in its official avenues as well as its social ones. The Diarchy was a prime prospect for his trials, to show his qualities but equally a fine opportunity for indulging in its high society and learning the whos and whats. He was in equal measure curious as well as daring, wanting to explore as much as he wanted to challenge.

Maximus stepped out of the luxurious speeder he had rented, leaving its door open for the driver to close. He simply moved out of it and into the festivity itself, his violet eyes scanning the area, looking around with a calm gaze. It was the equally curious but judging look of a patrician, aloof but engaging. He grabbed a glass with some, he was hoping, alcoholic beverage and took a large sip from it.

It was not a party on his homeworld, not a feast of nobility as he knew it and therefore he had some urge to show off. He was aware that some eyes would linger on him, for his youth, for his attire and him being a stranger to this occasion. Maximus secretly welcomed any attention, he reveled in it, but also kept himself to maintaining his compusre. At least for as long as alcohol did not override such conscious mindfulness.

---

 

[Wrathian Kell]

Tags: Open

The Sith’s last festival had been when he arrived in this time. Intercepting a Sith festival on Dromund Kaas was never his intention, and mercifully, Wrathian believed he went unnoticed

That... and this, were entirely different creatures.

One had been an exercise in posturing. Rituals of dominance, excess and hollow indulgence. This by contrast, seemed to be for comfort, perhaps cohesion, a break from the toll and toil. Self-maintenance even.

The skyline affirmed the distinction.

Wrathian stepped out into the pavilion, music, dancing, smiles and laughter. People, bodies, moving together without fear, manipulation, or calculation. The Pureblood was not entirely certain why he came. Perhaps to place names to faces, perhaps to observe. Or, perhaps, though he did not linger on the thought, to understand the diarchy as a culture, one that let its people know warmth without demanding weakness in return.

He passed several members of the gathering. It had reached a point where he no longer drew unwanted attention. A welcome change. No heads turning. No hushed calls of recognition. Refreshing, if there was ever a word for it.

Wrathian slowed when he noticed a younger man standing before a terminal, fingers moving as words appeared on what he assumed was a shared display beyond it. Anonymous messages.

Most, upon the point in which he showed up, were sentimental. I care for you. I can't admit my feelings. A surplus of you know who you are, love. Which, in retrospect to the Sith was it's own kind of humor, given the nature of the messages. Many, however, were more specific. Less broad. Less safe. Part of him questioned the purpose of it. Admission without claim, vulnerability without consequence. Yet that part of him was small enough to be ignored, for Wrathian's steps carried him in the direction of the terminal.

He reached one. His fingers tapped the interface as it came to life, a keyboard. A line for text simply blinking in repetition, as if the console itself was awaiting his offering. Wrathian had no idea what to write.

His fingers moved several times, messages forming and vanishing in equal measure. Each attempt ended with a faint squint, a slow exhale, and deletion. "How grating..." He murmured.

Not the act of typing, but the reality of it. For a man who always had something to say, even when words were sharpened or stripped of meaning, there was nothing here that felt correct. His head tilted back, gaze lifting to the night sky through the transparisteel. The void, and all of its scattered stars beaming down. All Distant. Some, perhaps, already snuffed out. Their galaxy. Lowering his gaze once more, he leaned in. His fingers raced across the interface with speed and certainty.

He hit enter. A new message was flown to the wall.

"I dream of fights. I dream of peaceful nights. I dream of grand sights.
Yet when I see these stars at twilight, awake and bright.
I realize I miss the starlight."

Wrathian stepped away from the console, his eyes tracing the constellation of confessions. He understood now. The sender didn't matter. Declaration carried no burden, and to speak without expectation granted a rare clarity he had not known of.

His eyes danced until he saw the vendor pouring wine. Something he had not tried in this day and age. And like a shadow without legs, Wrathian moved in that direction.

 

[Vyllia Sancetti]

Objective: Socialize and make an announcement
Location: Sky Pavilion, Bastion
Outfit: House Sancetti Dress
Accompanied by: Shyra Calipsa
Tag: OPEN

Vyllia walked into the pavilion with a pleasant smile on her face. It was both genuine and misleading at the same time. She was happy for this opportunity to be a part of the upcoming path of the Diarchy. Though she wasn't sure what her political and social strengths would lend if she were honest. The Mandalorian crisis did not seem to be heading towards a resolution. House Sancetti was still doing repairs to the shipyards that had been damaged. Perhaps all that she could do for now would be to offer hope for a future.

On the other hand she was not looking forward to making her announcement without Maldor by her side. As usual Shyra had demanded to be her shadow. The fact that Vyllia had been present when the Mandalorian attack began did nothing to give the bodyguard a sense that Vyllia was safe. In the heart of Bastion Shyra was convinced to give a little bit more space that had been the norm as of late. Hopefully Vyllia would find a familiar presence and this gathering could be a happy occasion despite Maldor's absence.

As the lift came to Vyllia ran her hand along her abdomen. She sighed mentally noting that this was likely the last time she would be able to wear something so form fitting comfortably for a little while. She was working on an angle to take a step away from her business obligations. She hoped it would make her family on Lianna happy, but after talking with her cousin on New Alderaan she doubted that would be the case. And Vyllia was finding it harder to care.

The lift opened at the Sky Pavilion level and Vyllia gave a nod to Shyra. The bodyguard gave a nod back and allowed Lady Sancetti to enter the gathering. Shyra stepped to the opening of the lift and her eyes quickly took in the scene. This would not be like the ceremony on New Alderaan however, and it was not even very likely the Mandalorians would attack here on Bastion. Keen eyes were satisfied in her charge's safety, so Shyra took a step off to the side and decided to become a wallflower for the time being. Vyllia had her panic button if needed. Vyllia walked confidently into the gathering open to a friendly chat with a familiar face or meeting someone new.

 

[Ra'a'mah]

The ascent to the Sky Pavilion was smooth and nearly silent, the lift's transparisteel walls revealing Bastion's vast cityscape slowly unfolding beneath them. Layers of light drifted across the darkened skyline, starships tracing luminous paths through controlled lanes while distant towers shimmered like constellations brought down to the surface.

When the doors opened, Ra'a'mah stepped out beside Vulpesen without hesitation.

She wore a long, sleeveless gown in deep sapphire blue, the fabric soft and fluid, designed to fall in clean, uninterrupted lines from shoulder to hem. The bodice was gently gathered, shaping the material without constriction, while a subtle empire waist gave the dress both structure and ease. At the neckline, a narrow keyhole opening added a quiet touch of refinement without drawing undue attention. The skirt flowed smoothly with each step she took, moving more like water than cloth.

There was nothing ostentatious about the ensemble. No excessive ornamentation. No deliberate display of rank. It was elegant in the way things built to endure often were: restrained, balanced, and intentional.

Her red hair was styled simply, brushed back from her face, and allowed to fall freely down her back, catching the ambient glow of the pavilion's lights. Minimal jewelry accented her wrists and throat, chosen more for meaning than decoration. Everything about her appearance suggested care without vanity, presence without performance.

Together, she and Vulpesen entered the pavilion as a unified presence.

Around them, members of the Diarchy gathered beneath softly shifting light panels and open sections of transparisteel that revealed Bastion's starscape. Floating lanterns drifted lazily overhead, their glow reflecting in polished floors and curved observation windows. Music carried gently through the space, restrained and atmospheric, designed to support conversation rather than overpower it.

Ra paused briefly just inside the threshold, allowing herself a moment to take in the room.

Operatives in tailored civilian wear. Analysts and administrators attempting formality. Veterans who still moved like they expected alarms at any moment. Young recruits were trying not to look overwhelmed. All of them set aside, for a few hours, from duty and consequence.

Her gaze moved calmly across the gathering, cataloging nothing, judging nothing. Simply observing.

Then she turned slightly toward Vulpesen, her expression composed, a faint warmth softening her otherwise focused demeanor.

"Well," she said quietly, her voice low enough for him alone, "no briefings. No agendas. No strategic projections."

A subtle hint of amusement touched her eyes.

"By Diarchy standards, that already makes this an unusual evening."

With that, she began walking at his side into the heart of the pavilion, ready to engage not as a commander or architect of policy, but as a presence within the community she worked so tirelessly to hold together.

Vulpesen

 

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

Jairdain listened to him without interrupting, giving him the same patient attention she always offered when something truly mattered to him. Even after decades together, she had never treated his doubts as inconveniences to be brushed aside or problems to be solved quickly. She let him speak until the last word had settled. She let the silence breathe. She let herself feel the place inside him where those worries had taken root.

Around them, the Sky Pavilion remained alive in its own gentle, shimmering way.

Soft music drifted between the floating lanterns, weaving through the air like a warm current. Laughter rose and fell in easy waves, mingling with the occasional chime of glasses and the soft shuffle of feet across polished floors. Somewhere nearby, someone was telling a story far too loudly, their enthusiasm spilling into the space with unrestrained joy. Somewhere else, someone listened with an intensity that bordered on reverence. Through it all, the Force hummed with layered warmth, curiosity, guardedness, and the fragile hope of people who, for one night, were trying not to carry the weight of the galaxy alone.

Jairdain stood close to Jax, her arm linked with his in a way that felt both natural and grounding. Her free hand rested lightly over his where it lay against her stomach, the gesture protective without being tense. The fabric of her dress flowed softly around her legs, cool and light against her skin, the deep blue silk catching the pavilion's glow like reflected starlight. Her hair fell loose down her back, dark and glossy, occasionally brushing his shoulder whenever she shifted toward him.

When he finished speaking, she turned her face slightly toward him, her expression gentle but unmistakably serious, the kind of seriousness that came from knowing him too well to dismiss what he felt.

"Jax," she said quietly, her voice low enough that it blended into the music and conversation around them, "you have been confused about this since the very first day I ever worked with them."

There was no reproach in her tone. Only the familiarity of someone who had walked beside him long enough to recognize the shape of his doubts.

She released a small breath, almost a soft laugh, though it carried more affection than humor, as if she were acknowledging a truth they had circled many times before.

"And yet you are still standing beside me," she continued, her voice warm and steady. "Still holding my hand. Still trusting me, even when the politics around us make no sense."

Her thumb brushed slowly over his knuckles, a grounding gesture she made without thinking, one that spoke more clearly than any reassurance she could offer aloud.

"That tells me far more than your worries ever could."

She tilted her head slightly, listening not just to the words he had spoken but to the tension beneath them, the part of him shaped by too many governments that had collapsed under their own corruption, too many alliances that had rotted from the inside, too many noble causes that had turned into excuses for harm.

"I am not close to the Diarchy because I believe they are perfect," Jairdain said, her voice calm and even. "And I am not close to them because I think they always choose the right path."

Her tone grew firmer, not defensive, but honest in a way that left no room for misunderstanding.

"I stay close because they listen when I tell them they are wrong. Because they allow me to argue with them without branding me an enemy. Because when civilians are in danger, they act first and justify later, instead of waiting for permission while people suffer."

She paused, letting the truth of that settle between them.

"That does not make them saints," she added softly. "It makes them workable."

Her hand shifted slightly, her fingers pressing more securely over his, as if anchoring both of them in the same quiet certainty.

"And I stay near what is workable," she said, "because I have lived through what happens when nothing is."

When he asked about the baby, her expression softened immediately, the tension easing from her shoulders as though he had reached instinctively for something safe, something that belonged only to them.

She let out a quiet huff, a sound that was half amusement and half weary honesty.

"My back aches," she admitted, her voice warm with self-deprecating humor. "My knees complain every morning. And I have reached the stage where tying my boots feels like a strategic operation that requires planning, patience, and occasionally a witness."

She turned her face more fully toward him now, her lips curving into a small, fond smile that softened her entire posture.

"But he is strong," Jairdain added gently, her voice lowering with a kind of reverence. "Restless. Curious. Already stubborn in ways that make me wonder how early personality truly begins."

A beat passed, warm and teasing.

"Very much your son," she said, the affection in her tone unmistakable.

Then, more seriously, she continued, "And he reminds me, every single day, why we keep trying to make this galaxy better instead of simply surviving it."

She leaned a little closer to him, resting her forehead briefly against his shoulder, just enough to feel the steady presence of him beneath her skin.

"You do not have to love the Diarchy," she murmured, her voice softening even further. "And you do not have to trust them the way I do."

She lifted her head again, her blind eyes turning toward him with a certainty that needed no sight to be absolute.

"I only need you to trust me," she said, the words quiet but unwavering. "Because I would never place our family inside something I believed would devour us."

A faint smile touched her lips, small but sincere.

"And yes," she added, her tone warming again, "they do throw very good parties."

Her fingers tightened around his hand in a single, affectionate squeeze, steady and sure.

"For tonight," Jairdain said, her voice settling into something soft and certain, "let us just be Jax and Jair. Two people who survived far too much, found each other anyway, and somehow ended up here beneath the stars."

She shifted closer to his side again, her body relaxing into his, anchored by the simple fact of his presence.

"And tomorrow," she finished quietly, "we can worry about the galaxy again."

Jax Thio

 

[Vulpesen]

Vulpesen's hands were folded in front of him as the lift doors opened before he and him and Ra'a'mah . The High Republic, the Diarchy, and even his own halls back home. It seemed he was being called to more and more functional events. In the realm of ancestral politics, such things were usually done by the houses of Gracin and Politics. Indeed, more than once, Vulpesen had eschewed a formal ball on Veradune in favor of his office while Lucas took the center stage with handshakes and sips of wine. But how could he refuse an invitation to such a soiree when on his arm was a woman he would charge across the galaxy for? Indeed, he'd done that very thing in the past. If he could risk starting a war for Ra'amah, he could certainly join her for a night of revelry.

"Well," she said quietly, her voice low enough for him alone, "no briefings. No agendas. No strategic projections."

A subtle hint of amusement touched her eyes.

"By Diarchy standards, that already makes this an unusual evening."

"The Diarchs do seem to have a penchant for efficiency. Its respectable. But it's good to kick back and relax every now and then, especially in such strifeful times as these." Continuing into the room the hem of his coat kicked back at his heels, gliding just over the polished floors. He was, admittedly, one of those very veterans that seemed poised to jump at a moment's notice, ready to react to any unexpected disturbance. Though, he did try to hide that constant instinct behind a smile and confident foot falls beside the red headed woman. "Anyone I should meet this evening?"

 

[Cora]

This kind of thing wasn't Cora's usual scene, but Tarain had convinced her "If we are going to try set Laphisto up, we are going to need to know what he's up against!" Or something along those lines, she wasn't fully paying attention when they had this conversation. But she was here now, amongst the crowd upon the Sky Pavilion, peering out at the stars beyond.

There were many faces here that she didn't recognise, and many that were familiar. She hadn't seem them yet, but she also knew the two Diarchs were here somewhere. Now would not be the best time to try and insert herself into a conversation with either of them though, as it was their time to take of the "Diarch" label for a brief while to relax and enjoy time with their families. Besides, she thought to herself, I think I've embarrassed myself in front of the brothers enough as it is.

Uncomfortable in the presence of this many people, she hurriedly ordered a drink at the bar, then slunk off to the outskirts of the pavilion away from the crowd. She found herself a place to lean against with a good view looking out at the horizon, and she had planned to stay there by herself for the rest of the night, sipping on her drink. Staying would at least get Tarain off her back, she hoped, as much as she wanted to leave.

Laphisto Caelus Vire // NIHIL

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah's gaze drifted briefly across the room as they stepped fully into the space, taking in the soft lighting, the slow movement of guests, and the carefully cultivated atmosphere of ease that only existed when an institution made a deliberate effort to appear relaxed. It was habit more than intention that guided her eyes, noting entrances, clusters, and sightlines, before she consciously let that awareness soften.

She turned back to Vulpesen, the faintest curve of a smile touching her lips.

"Tonight?" she replied quietly, her voice warm but unassuming. "No one in particular."

Her hand rested lightly against his arm as they walked, a subtle anchor rather than a gesture of formality.

"We are not here to negotiate, recruit, persuade, or assess," she continued, tone gently resolute. "We are here to enjoy the evening, to breathe, and to remember that the galaxy does not end if we look away from it for a few hours."

A soft breath of amusement followed.

"If we happen to cross paths with someone worth speaking to, I will introduce us," she added. "And if we do not, I will consider that just as successful."

Her amber eyes met his briefly, steady and sincere.

"For once, Vulps," she finished quietly, "this night belongs to us, not to duty."

Vulpesen

 

[Veyran Solis]

Xian Xiao​

Veyran Solis stood just off the main promenade, where Bastion's polished stone met quiet gardens. He had chosen the spot deliberately. It was close enough to be convenient, far enough away from the crowds to feel personal.

He was dressed better than usual, dark tailored layers fitted neatly to his frame, boots freshly polished, collar fastened with a subtle clasp that caught the light when he shifted. It was not ostentatious, but it was intentional. He wanted to look like he had made an effort. For Xian, that mattered.

In his hands rested a small collection of flowers native to Bastion, pale silver petals threaded with faint veins of blue, their stems bound together with a simple ribbon. They were not the sort of blooms one found off world. Hardy, understated, quietly beautiful. He had sought them out earlier that morning, guided by a vendor who had smiled knowingly when Veyran explained they were for someone important.

He breathed in slowly, letting the ambient hum of the city settle his nerves.

There was a softness to his expression that rarely surfaced in public. A relaxed smile lingered at the corners of his mouth, equal parts anticipation and restraint. He resisted the urge to check the chrono again, she would be here soon.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian arrived more slowly than she meant to, her steps measured, as if they had nothing to do with punctuality and everything to do with the quiet, persistent flutter of nerves beneath her ribs. She wasn't late. She simply needed a moment to steady herself before stepping into a space that felt so different from the ones she was used to, a space where nothing was expected of her except to exist.

The Sky Pavilion glowed above her in soft, sweeping bands of light that curved along the transparisteel and polished stone, reflections sliding like water across every surface. Music drifted faintly through the air, carrying with it the warmth of laughter, the rise and fall of voices, and the gentle hum of a place that, for once, was not about danger or duty or preparation. It was simply about people choosing to be together without urgency.

Just people. Just an evening. Just a moment, she hoped she wouldn't ruin it by overthinking it.

She paused at the edge of the promenade for half a second, smoothing her hands down the front of her outfit as if she could iron out her thoughts with the same motion, willing herself to feel composed enough to walk forward.

She wasn't in anything resembling a uniform as she didn't have one to begin with, but the absence of her usual practical layers still felt strange, like stepping into a version of herself she rarely let others see.

Instead, she wore a simple but elegant dress in a deep, warm red that complemented the dyed red of her hair. The fabric was soft and light, falling just past her knees in clean, fluid lines that moved gently with each step. Subtle embroidery in muted gold traced along the hem and sleeves, catching the Pavilion's glow like embers beneath starlight. It wasn't flashy or ostentatious. It didn't try to impress. It simply felt like something she could inhabit without pretending to be someone else.

Over her shoulders, she wore a short, fitted jacket in a soft charcoal gray, chosen more out of instinct than necessity. Old habits liked layers, liked the sense of protection and familiarity they offered. Her usual boots had been replaced with low, polished flats that were practical but carefully chosen, and her hair, dyed its familiar shade of red, was pulled back into a loose half‑braid she had tried, unsuccessfully, to keep neat. A few strands had already escaped to frame her face, no matter how many times she had attempted to tame them.

She had tried. Clearly. And the effort showed in a way that made her look quietly human.

Her makeup, if it could even be called that, was minimal, but just enough to soften the tired shadows beneath her eyes, enough to make her feel put together, enough to convince herself she belonged in a place like this.

Maybe. Her gaze lifted. And then she saw him.

Veyran stood near the gardens where the lights softened, and the crowd thinned, his silhouette framed by the warm glow of lanterns. He wore dark clothes with clean, deliberate lines, his posture steady in that familiar way she had always found grounding. And in his hands, held with a kind of careful intention, were flowers.

Her steps slowed without her meaning to, her breath catching in a way she would never admit aloud. Her heart did something foolish and immediate in her chest, a small leap she could not control.

He looked good. Not just handsome, though he was undeniably that. He looked intentional, present, as though he had chosen this moment with the same care she had taken in preparing for it.

As though he had chosen it for her.

A small, shy smile tugged at her lips before she could stop it.

She crossed the remaining distance quietly, her flats barely making a sound on the stone, until she was close enough that he would feel her presence even before she spoke.

"Hey," Xian said softly, her voice warm but tentative, the kind of greeting that held more meaning than the word itself.

Not loud. Not formal. Just her.

Her eyes flicked to the flowers and then back to his face, warmth spreading through her expression in a way she could not quite hide.

"You look really nice," she said, a little breathless despite her best efforts to sound composed. "I mean… You always do. But tonight especially."

She shifted her weight slightly, her hands folding behind her back in a nervous, almost shy gesture that betrayed how much this moment mattered to her.

Then, more quietly, with a sincerity that softened every line of her posture:

"I'm really glad I'm here with you."

Veyran Solis

 

[Veyran Solis]

Xian Xiao​

Veyran took a small step closer, close enough now that he could truly take her in, not just the way she looked, but the way she held herself, the quiet nerves in her posture, the softness in her eyes that she tried so hard to hide behind composure.

For a moment, he simply looked at her. His smile softened, something warm and unmistakably affectionate settling across his features.

"You look amazing," Veyran said gently, his voice low and sincere. It was not said for effect. It was spoken like a truth he wanted her to hear. "Truly." He lifted the small bundle of Bastion flowers and held them out to her with both hands, careful, almost reverent in the gesture.

"These are for you." The silver blue petals caught the Pavilion light as he offered them, their quiet beauty mirroring the way he saw her standing there in front of him.

"They're native to Bastion," he added softly. "I thought they fit the moment. And…I wanted you to have something that belonged to here. With me." His eyes stayed on her face, watching her reaction, memorizing it. Then, with a faint, self conscious exhale and the hint of a playful curve to his mouth, he glanced down at his own tailored clothes before looking back up at her.

"I hope I'm not too overdressed for the occasion," he said lightly. "I may have underestimated how casually I'd be able to stand next to someone who looks the way you do, flawless, amazing."

There was quiet affection in his gaze now, steady and unguarded. He shifted just enough to offer his arm, a simple invitation rather than an expectation.

"I'm really glad you're here too, and happy to be with you. Shall we?" Veyran said softly.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian froze for half a second when he stepped closer.

Not in fear. Not in discomfort.

Just in that soft, startled way she always felt when he looked at her like that, as if she were something rare and worth lingering on, something he did not want to rush past. The kind of look that made her feel seen in a way she was still learning how to accept.

Her shoulders straightened out of habit, composure rising like a reflex, but it did nothing to hide the warmth blooming across her cheeks or the way her breath caught in her throat.

When he told her she looked amazing, her lips parted in quiet surprise before curving into a shy, unguarded smile that softened her entire expression.

"Veyran…" she murmured, her voice a little breathless despite her best efforts to steady it. "You do not have to say things like that so perfectly. It is unfair."

There was no real protest in her tone. If anything, she sounded like she was trying not to melt under the weight of his attention.

When he offered the flowers, she reached out with both hands, accepting them with a care that made the moment feel almost ceremonial. Her fingers brushed his during the exchange, warm and deliberate, and she did not pull away. If anything, she lingered just a heartbeat longer than she meant to.

The petals caught the light, soft and vivid, and she studied them for a moment, her expression touched and quietly overwhelmed.

"They are beautiful," she said softly. "And I love that they are from here. That you thought about that." Her gaze lifted back to his, eyes bright and warm. "Thank you. Truly."

When he mentioned being overdressed, she let out a quiet laugh that carried more affection than amusement, shaking her head as if the idea itself was impossible.

"No," she said immediately. "You look really good." Her voice dipped, softer, more intimate. "Like you planned this. Which I like."

She adjusted her grip on the flowers, holding them close to her chest for a moment as if they steadied her, then met his gaze again with a softness that felt intentional.

"And I am glad I am here too," Xian added, her voice warm and steady. "With you."

When he offered his arm, she hesitated only long enough to feel the flutter in her chest before slipping her hand through it. The gesture was careful and deliberate, her choosing closeness rather than stumbling into it.

"Yeah," she said quietly, looking up at him with a smile that held both shyness and something deeper. "Let's go."

Veyran Solis

 

[Caelus Vire // NIHIL]

Tags: Cora

Caelus had already done what was expected of him that evening, spoken to the right people, made himself visible, nodded through conversations. The music and crowd were beginning to be to loud and congested for his liking. That is when he noticed the Echani woman standing off to the side near the transparisteel, drink in hand, focused on the skyline instead of the event itself.

She seemed a kindred spirit in a way. In a humanizing moment for the cyborg he felt a ting of his heart beating harder and his sensors balancing his emotional output with un-controllable chemicals that are meant to keep him grounded in any dangerous scenario. The two fighting each other with signals in his mind.

With a soft shake of his head and not looking into it deeper, he crossed the pavilion and stopped beside her. His walk and stance a practiced formal thing. Near perfect in its cadence.

"Do you mind some company?"

If she turned toward him, he offered his hand with quiet formality.

"Caelus Vire. I oversee admissions of new planets for the Diarchy."

He looked her over ever slightly as non intrusively as he could. "Lilaste Order?" - He asked with a short smile. Seeing the fire within the Echani that usually those of the Order carry.

 

[Diarch Rellik]

The two arrived together calmly, simply stepping out onto the pavilion level and into the soft glow of the Sky Pavilion together. Rellik kept his pace even, one hand intertwined with Iandre's arm as they walked. Music carried lightly through the space. People spoke in low voices. It was all exactly as it was meant to be.

He looked a little pale under the lights. Tired more than anything. The weeks behind them had not settled yet, and Yaga Minor sat in the back of his mind like a weight he hadn't found a place to put down. He didn't speak of it as they entered. He didn't intend to tonight. Still, his eyes moved out across the skyline for a moment before he refocused on where they were and who he was with.

"I'm glad we came," he said quietly to her. His voice was steady, just lower than usual. He took a slow breath and let it out through his nose, grounding himself in the simple act of walking beside her.

Iandre's presence made that easier. It always had. There was a steadiness to her that cut through the noise in his head better than any meditation exercise ever could. He glanced toward her, the tension at his jaw easing a little. She looked beautiful tonight, and he allowed himself to notice it without overthinking anything else. For a moment, he was just a man walking in with the woman he loved. Nothing more complicated than that.

They moved further into the pavilion at an unhurried pace, still arm in arm, offering the occasional nod or quiet greeting to those they passed. Rellik kept his posture straight, composed as ever, but there was a faint tightness to him that hadn't been there months ago. He was trying, though. Trying to let the evening be what it was meant to be. A few hours without war. A few hours where the weight could sit somewhere else while he stood beside his betrothed and simply existed under Bastion's stars.

Iandre Athlea