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

[Kallous]

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

Kallous turned to face her way when he felt her presence approaching. And he found himself striken for a few moments. She had never been short of elegance, though she seemed to have taken the time to improve on what she already had. Clad in a sheening black dress that may as well have been a void on its own, contrasted only by two items of her wardrobe. Deceptively complex. And exceptional in its grace.

She asked if he was late, a question he knew wasn't meant to be answered, it was rather a courtly greeting. In response to it he gave her a shallow, courtly bow to greet her in turn. Though her next comment earned a chuckle from him.

"Isn't it my job to compliment your appearance?" He asked her as his brief laughter died down, though the smile remained behind. He took her hand into his, and lifted her hand to place a gentle kiss on her knuckles before releasing her hand again so she might move as she pleased. "My lady, you are positively ravishing this evening."

She stood next to him then, and he offered her his arm before they moved on to the actual gathering itself. "I'm glad you accepted."

If she were to follow he would lead her toward the main gathering of people. Kallous wasn't usually one for parties of any kind, and from what he knew of Seren he didn't think she was either. Though he saw an excuse to invite her back to Bastion for a little while, so he had thought it was worth it. Especially if he could introduce her to some of his colleagues, he was sure she would get along with some of them. Now it was time to find out.

Seren Gwyn

 

[Morta Izanami]

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Comfortable Liar - by Chevelle

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Tag: Open


Morta Izanami drifted into the Sky Pavilion as though the world itself had bent to make way for her, her boots clicking softly against the polished floor. Her eyes roamed the gathering with an easy, calculating curiosity, diplomats speaking in flowing silks, guests flaunting stories of heroics and buying one another drinks, and musicians adjusting their delicate instruments, the faint hum of anticipation threading through the air.

With a swift, graceful motion, she plucked a fruit-infused drink from the hovering tray of a server droid, the liquid catching the light like tiny, captured stars, creating its own personalized cosmos, and made her way to the balcony; letting the music rise to meet her like a whispered invitation.

On the balcony, she leaned lightly against the railing, savoring the swell of various instruments echoing from inside. Her gaze wandered over the sparkling display inside, a small smile curling at the edges of her lips, until the polite whirling of servos announced the arrival of a protocol droid beside her. Her head tilted in exaggerated exasperation, golden eyes rolling skyward, the faintest spark of amusement dancing in them as she took in the rigid, mechanical figure.

She gave a long, theatrical sigh, the sound heavy with amused irritation. "Ah now, of all the souls I might've shared me evenin' night with, fate sends me a chatterin' tin pilgrim," she said, her brogue thickening in soft, playful cadence. "No offense to ye, mind; but there's little comfort in pourin' thoughts into a face that shines back like a tea tray. I'd sooner host a rainstorm, at least that knows when to keep quiet an' brood proper."

She folded her arms upon the railing, casting the droid a sidelong glance, one brow arched in playful discontent, before lifting a single finger to halt the droid from responding. "An' listen to the clatter o' ye joints, clickin' an' whirrin' like tiny mechanical babies in a factory; fates preserve us, it sets me teeth on edge. A balcony's meant for whispers, for secrets floatin' out into the dark; not for etiquette briefin's an' posture corrections." Her lips curled faintly, not cruel but wryly put upon.

"So, forgive me if I seem less than thrilled, me polished guest, but hostin' a protocol droid out here feels less like company; an' more like supervisin' a very well-mannered statue."

The droid inclined its polished head, voice emerging in plain, unadorned cadence. "I am not programmed to handle sarcasm. That is sarcasm, correct?" The witch gave a soft, musical laugh and shook her head, dark black hair with white strands swaying gently. "Sarcasm?" she repeated in warm tones, her words wrapped in half-truths and quiet delight as she added, "I never speak in sarcasms." And the sparkle in her golden, vampiric eyes suggested that, truthful or not, she had no intention of clarifying it further.

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Seren accepted his arm without hesitation, her fingers resting lightly against his sleeve as she fell into step beside him, her posture composed and effortless in a way that came from long practice rather than performance.

A faint smile curved her lips at his compliment, not coy, not exaggerated, but genuine.

"Flattery delivered with impeccable timing," she replied softly, her voice warm with quiet amusement. "You're going to give people the wrong idea about you, Kallous."

Her gaze flicked briefly over the gathering ahead, taking in the lights, the movement, the subtle currents of conversation and status that flowed through spaces like this. She was clearly observing more than she was judging, cataloging impressions the way she always did.

"And thank you," she added after a beat, more sincerely. "I didn't want to refuse. Not when you asked."

She glanced back at him, eyes steady.

"Besides," Seren continued lightly, "it seemed… important to you. That counts for something."

As they walked, her grip on his arm shifted just slightly, not possessive, not uncertain, simply present.

"I'll try not to scandalize your colleagues," she murmured, a hint of dry humor in her tone. "But I make no promises if they ask too many philosophical questions."

Her expression softened then, just a little.

"I'm glad you invited me," she said quietly. "Even if neither of us is particularly suited to rooms like this."

With that, she lifted her chin and matched his pace, ready to face the gathering at his side.

Kallous

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre let the Pavilion take her in the way she always did with rooms that were meant to soothe, not impress, registering the softened lights, the measured music, the careful spacing of bodies and conversations, and the faint, regulated hum of that harmonic field like a hand placed lightly at the back of her mind, not forcing anything, only reminding every sharp thought to loosen its grip.

Her arm remained linked with his, steady and certain, and when she felt the tiredness in him, it did not make her reach for words too quickly, because she knew the difference between a silence that avoided pain and a silence that gave it room to stop clawing.

She glanced up at him when he spoke, and for a moment her expression softened into something quietly fond, the kind of warmth she did not waste on the public, and did not ration with him.

"I am glad we came too." Her voice was low, even, but not distant. "Not because it fixes anything, but because it reminds us we are still allowed to live inside the work, not only underneath it."

They moved deeper into the crowd, slow enough that no one could mistake it for retreat, and Iandre kept her pace matched to his, letting him set the rhythm while she held the steadiness.

Her gaze followed his for a heartbeat when it drifted to the skyline, to the stars beyond Bastion's glass, and she did not pretend she could not see the weight behind his eyes.

"Yaga Minor is not going to vanish because we chose one evening to breathe." she said softly, not pressing, not prying, only naming the truth the way a medic names a wound before dressing it. "But you do not have to carry it in your teeth every minute, or it will start to change the shape of you."

Her thumb shifted against his hand, a small squeeze that was more instruction than comfort, and more promise than either.

"Tonight you can set it down with me."

She let that sit, then the corner of her mouth lifted, faint, a restrained kind of humor that still belonged to her.

"And if anyone tries to drag you into policy talk, I will rescue you, and I will be unpleasant about it."

Iandre's eyes drifted across the amenities in passing: the drinks, the small clusters gathered near the Star Note terminal, the holo booth catching laughing couples in its framed light, the dance registry blinking patiently, as if it believed everyone would eventually give in.

She leaned in just slightly, close enough that her breath was for him alone.

"Do you want a drink first, or do you want to disappear onto the balcony for a minute and pretend you do not belong to anyone but the night sky."

She looked at him then, fully, not searching for cracks, not assessing him like an officer, only seeing him.

"Either way, I am here."

Diarch Rellik

 

[Vulpesen]

"A night for us." He couldn't help the soft chuckle that filled the pause after his words. "How long has it been since we had one of those?" Unspoken, the thought touched his mind. How long until they would truly had one in truth? For every step that Ra was on his arm, the simple truth was that she was bonded to another. The complicated truth was that she, like he, was a zorren. Dragonsflame was a friend, but he was a human and humans didn't live long. To this end, Vulpesen was patient. It was not the malicious patience of a sith, biding his time to strike in times of death or weakness... it was the patience of peace. Acceptance that time would take its course, the wheel would turn, and the force would provide. A time to mourn. A time to love. And now, a time to celebrate and rest.

"The galaxy is always burning, with or without us. That much I've learned. I suppose someone else can tend the flames for an evening." His boots took on a new purposeful click as he made his way to the bar, his eyes already seeking something worth his taste. Considering his first official meeting with representatives of the diarchy, he was certain that he would not be disappointed. Even if his prize wasn't as high as the stakes from that "spirited debate."

Ra'a'mah

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah released a quiet breath at his answer, something close to a soft laugh as her head tilted just slightly, copper-red hair catching the light as they walked.

"At least thirty-six years," she echoed softly. "When you say it like that, it almost sounds irresponsible."

There was no regret in her tone, no self-reproach. Only the weight of memory and familiarity, carried with calm acceptance.

"For most of that time," she continued after a moment, "we chose other things first. Responsibility. Crisis. Survival. Other people's needs." Her gaze drifted briefly across the room, taking in the movement, the music, and the quiet celebration around them. "Often for good reasons. Often because there was no real alternative."

They reached the bar, and she loosened her hold just enough to rest her hand lightly against the counter, remaining close to him without pretense or hesitation.

"You know where my life stands now," Ra said evenly, her voice steady and unambiguous. "I chose it with clarity. I remain committed to it. I do not regret it."

There was no pause there. No doubt. No softening.

Then she turned her eyes back to his.

"But commitment does not erase connection," she went on quietly. "It does not undo decades of trust, shared decisions, and standing beside one another when it mattered most. It does not erase history simply because circumstances change."

A faint, restrained smile touched her lips.

"Some bonds are not defined by timing," she added. "They endure because they were built carefully, honestly, and without illusions."

Her gaze drifted for a moment toward the transparisteel windows, where Bastion's stars scattered across the darkness like distant embers.

"I do not measure what we have by what it could have been," Ra continued thoughtfully. "I measure it by what it is. Reliable. Steady. Honest. Something that has lasted when so many other things did not."

She looked back at him then, amber eyes warm but composed.

"And that is enough," she said simply.

After a brief pause, a trace of dry humor returned to her voice.

"For tonight, however," she added, reaching toward the drink display, "I intend to indulge in the rare luxury of doing nothing useful whatsoever. I suggest you consider doing the same."

Vulpesen

 

[Vulpesen]

His quiet laughter continued at Ra's evaluation of his words. "Well, if we're going to be irresponsible, we might as well do it right." He didn't bother with a bartender, simply floating over a pair of glasses and a bottle of wine to fill them with. "Your life suits you. You're a woman who likes to stand at the crossroads. Being grounded however, is important. You like to be in the middle of things, but you're far from indecisive. For what its worth, I agree. You have no reason for regret." He set the bottle down after a measure had been poured and wrapped a clawed hand around the stem.

"As for doing nothing useful, I'm terrified by the thought of checking my datapad after this mis-" He cleared his throat as he stopped himself with a mental admonition. There was no objective. No threat. Nothing beyond revelry. "this meet-up. It seems any time I have a moment to myself, the senate decides to draft every legislation that pops into their heads. Wouldn't surprised me if I wound up vetoing a misdemeanor for chewing gum the wrong way."

He followed her eyes to the stars, seeming to search them himself for... something. "I remember back on Amar, staring at them all the time. I always imagined hopping on a freighter and sending off to find my parents. Figured it'd be Corellia or Coruscant. I had no idea what would happen when I found them. Hell, I had no idea I wasn't even human. Working for Zarro, I knew the galaxy was big. I just didn't know how big."

Ra'a'mah

 

[Morta Izanami]

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[]

Comfortable Liar - by Chevelle

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Tag: Open

With a long, drawn out sigh, her hand brushed off non-existent dust from the balcony's thin ledge, propped herself up into a near comfortable position; then casually crossed one leg over the other while the glass stem remained cradled between pale fingers in the other as though the drink itself had offended her. She took a slow sip of the fruity concoction; something bright and sugared, all berries and citrus, crowned with a wedge of something she'd not bothered to solve it's name.

In the bowels of the Sky Pavilion the music had begun to swell, while the laughter and cheer rose in bright peals, belonging to souls far more merrier than hers. It was, by all accounts, a place made for delight. And still, her mood sat sour as curdled bantha milk.

She cast a sidelong glance at the protocol droid beside her; upright, polished, and attentive in that deeply irritating way of machines designed to be helpful. It stood with hands politely clasped, optics faintly glowing, as though awaiting some grand philosophical inquiry rather than her dwindling patience.

"Ah now, would ye listen to me troubles," she said at last, her voice dipped in silk and vinegar both. "Here I am, forced not only to endure that racket of cheer inside, but to spend the evening explainin' the delicate art of sarcasm to a creature that hasn't a pulse to quicken nor a wit to wound."

She tilted her head toward it, eyes narrowing with a thin smile, intercepting the protocol droid before it could repond. "Sarcasm, ye see, is when I say somethin' kind, but mean it in the most unkind way imaginable. A talent, I'll have ye know, that takes years of proper bitterness to perfect."

She took another slow sip, letting the sweetness linger just long enough to resent it; holding a suspended finger in the air, a gesture even a protocol droid understood. The music inside climbed higher; joyful, triumphant, the very sound of lifted spirits, while she remained planted in her gloom like a storm cloud that refused to move on.

"So if I tell ye I'm thrilled by the pleasure of yer company," she went on, her thick brogue sharpening to a polished blade, "ye'd do well not to take it as praise." Her gaze drifted back toward the glowing pavilion, where dancers spun in carefree circles. "For if I were any more delighted that ye chose me for conversation, I'd surely cast meself over this balcony just to preserve the moment."

"Sarcasm," the droid announced, earning a cold smile from her.

 

[Cora]

She heard the boots approaching at a rhythmic pace. When he stopped beside her, she turned her head slightly to face him better, and get a look at who dared interrupt her peace. As he extended his hand toward her in greeting, she stared at it and raised an eyebrow, hesitating a little too long before reluctantly accepting. To his introduction, she responded sharply, "Cora."

Cora felt uneasy as Caelus looked her up and down. He queried about her division within the Diarchy, and she only nodded an affirmative in response, before taking her turn to look him over. "Caelus, huh?" She repeated back to him as her eye locked onto his, narrowing. "It's nice to meet you." A pause. "You seem... Familiar?" Yet he seemed so alien at the same time. She couldn't quite put her finger on this strange feeling she felt in the pit of her stomach. "I guess we must have crossed paths on Bastion at some point in time." It was the only explanation she could think of for his familiarity.

His formal attire was crisp and pristine, like that of a nobleman. He should have been mingling in with the crowd, making connections, keeping up appearances, as his kind of people liked to do at occasions such as this. He definitely should not have chosen Cora as the one person to talk to here. What does he want from me? Was it anxiety she felt creeping in? She was a hardened soldier, and this man in front of her some kind of diplomat, the two types of people rarely got along.

Using her drink to point at him, she relaxed into a lean, her back against the transparisteel, raising her eyebrow at him once again. "So, what makes a pretty man like you hide away from the crowd like me?" Then she took another swig.

Caelus Vire // NIHIL

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra accepted the glass when he offered it, her fingers closing lightly around the stem as she listened, the faintest curve of amusement resting at the corner of her mouth. She did not drink right away. Instead, she turned the glass slightly, watching the light catch in the wine as he spoke, giving his words the attention they deserved.

"I am very glad," she said dryly, "that I do not yet have to arbitrate crimes involving improperly chewed gum."

Her eyes lifted to his, a quiet spark of humor there.

"Though given the direction the galaxy tends to move," she added, "I suspect my turn will come eventually. Times change." She paused, considering that thought for a moment. "And I think I am changing as well."

She took a small sip then, more for ritual than thirst, before resting the glass again near her chest.

"I used to believe that stability meant holding the same position indefinitely," Ra continued softly. "Standing in one place, maintaining balance by refusing to move." Her gaze drifted back toward the stars beyond the transparisteel. "Now I am beginning to understand that balance is not stillness. It is adaptation. It is knowing when to remain firm, and when to allow yourself to evolve without losing your center."

When he spoke of Amar, of Zarro, of discovering just how vast the galaxy truly was, her expression softened. Not with pity, but with recognition.

"It does that to people," she said quietly. "Expands around you until your old certainties no longer fit. Suddenly, you realize how small your first dreams were, and how much larger your life became without you noticing."

She turned back to him then, studying him with open honesty.

"We both came from places where survival meant building something of our own," Ra went on. "Networks. Enterprises. Systems. We learned early that nothing stable is given. It has to be constructed, maintained, and defended."

A faint, thoughtful smile appeared.

"Do you think that is why we work so well together?" she asked gently. "Because we both learned to treat responsibility the same way others treat faith. Not as something you inherit, but something you earn every day."

Her gaze held his, warm but composed.

"We understand risk. We understand long horizons. We understand that lasting things are rarely built quickly." A small breath escaped her. "That perspective shapes people."

She lifted her glass slightly, not quite a toast, but an acknowledgment.

"And perhaps," Ra added softly, "it is also why, even after all these years, we still recognize each other when everything else keeps changing."

Vulpesen

 

[Vulpesen]

"Adaptation indeed. Both of us have had quite the upheaval. Certainly more than the average person." His words were punctuated by his clawed nails tapping on the glass a the small whoosh of his tail swishing behind him. Before their meeting, Ra had assumed herself to be human. Years before that, Vulpesen had thought the same. "And I think you've got it right. We're driven by duty. Even now, its on our minds as we try to push it away. We've been at it for so long that the thought of an actual rest is unthinkable. Part of that, I think, is the instinct. We're driven to protect. For most Zorrens, its enough to jump to the aid of this in front of them... but we don't just see people. We see the galaxy and we see that it needs guardians just as much as its denizens."

His lips turned into a smirk and he tipped his head as she lifted her glass before taking a long sip from his own. "We've time to change a hundred times. And yet I think, I hope, that what draws us back to each other never changes. We've been through half a dozen governments, seen regimes rise and falls and wars rage and ebb. But who we are at our core is a constant that endures within a galaxy that thrives on chaos."

There was a soft clink as his glass touched back to the counter. "But for now, all we need to guard is a moment of respite. You've been doing a fair job of reminding me of that, lately. Thank you."

Ra'a'mah

 

[Caelus Vire // NIHIL]

A soft wire snap tinged in Caelus's mind. A wee little popping noise. As Cora introduced herself and returned his brashness in kind; the man rubbed his eyes. Behind his shut lids a scramble was taking place. A soft buzz and hiss intertwined with actual flashes of static.

Again something was wrong. As before he felt the natural reaction of stabilizers flowing into his mind. Altering his chemical state to fix him. He went to speak, to say that it was nice to meet her. That his familiar face was from new outreach programs with spotlights on Brayden Hodes DNN. Yet no words were forming.

Where before his assessments of others was done subtly. Network information filling his mind on any one person he wanted immediately. Here he was blunt and un-becoming. With another moment of irregular behavior he softly scratched at the back of his neck. As if uncomfortable with his actions.

A soft laugh finally escaped. "Aheheh" Still rubbing the back of his neck, ever gently a boyish smile formed on his face that pushed his cheeks up. One that would give way to why he looked so familiar to some. An inherited trait. Settling into his skin so to say he spoke.

"Forgive me." With Cora leaning back Caelus lifted his drink in kind. A soft tilt of his head with a smirk. With her comment about being pretty he felt his lips actually wobble a bit and his cheeks flush. All things that with his programming he had never felt before. Doing his best he continued, fixing his posture and speech to be more casual.

"I think the alcohol is hitting me a little harder tonight. I was hoping to step away from the show when I saw you here." (He can not get drunk. He is experiencing a humanizing moment of freedom from his usually drug and information induced mind.) There was a brief pause. Unsure how to return the compliment he received. "I guess my heart beat out my mind. As when I saw you there was no thoughts. I felt compelled to come say hello. If you would not mind placating me. Join me for an evening and some drinks offset from the rest of the crowd. I have some strong sense to get to know you Cora."

Cora

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra was quiet for a moment, considering his words rather than reacting to them. When she spoke, her voice was calm, steady.

"You have always seen the wider picture," she said. "Even when it makes things heavier."

She turned her glass slowly in her hand.

"Once you start thinking that way, duty does not really let go," Ra continued. "It becomes part of you."

Her eyes lifted to his.

"And people like us tend to recognize that in each other."

A faint, restrained smile touched her lips.

"You have also been very patient over the years," she added lightly. "Which I imagine has saved us both a great deal of trouble."

Her expression softened, just slightly.

"My life is the result of my choices," she said simply. "I do not regret them."

A pause.

"But nothing stays the same forever."

She met his gaze again.

"For now," Ra finished quietly, "I am grateful for this moment."

"And for you."

Vulpesen

 

[Veyran Solis]

Xian Xiao​

Veyran felt the gentle pressure of her hand through his arm as they moved together, and it anchored him in the moment more than he expected. He kept his pace matched to hers, guiding them naturally toward the Sky Pavilion's entrance, where soft light spilled out across the promenade and the distant music grew clearer with every step.

He glanced down at her briefly, noting the way she held the flowers close, how the lantern glow caught in her hair, how present she felt beside him.

"I'm so happy you like them," he said quietly. "I wanted them to feel like this place, and like tonight. Something chosen."

They passed beneath the Pavilion's archway, the transparisteel ceiling opening above them to reveal Bastion's layered skyline, lights stretching outward like constellations brought down to the city. The air inside was warmer, touched with the scent of floral arrangements and polished stone, voices blending together in a low, comfortable murmur.

When she told him she was glad she was here with him, Veyran turned his head slightly toward her, his smile soft and genuine.

"Glad you are here with me too," he replied. "More than I can probably explain very well. I'm going to keep saying things like that too you, because you deserve them."

There was no hesitation in his tone, only quiet truth.

He let out a faint breath, glancing ahead as servers moved gracefully between tables.

"And for what it's worth," he added with a hint of warmth, "If I did overdress, I regret none of it. If this evening is meant to be memorable, then I would rather meet it properly."

His arm shifted subtly beneath her hand, a gentle acknowledgment of her closeness.

As they stepped fully into the Pavilion, he slowed just enough to turn slightly toward her, meeting her eyes.

"Would you like a drink?" Veyran asked softly. "Whatever you prefer. I can grab it for you."

His gaze lingered on her face with affectionate attentiveness. And with that, he guided them forward into the heart of the Sky Pavilion, quietly grateful for her presence at his side.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian let her fingers trail lightly along his arm as they stepped fully into the Pavilion, the glow of Bastion's skyline reflecting in the transparisteel above them. The music was soft, warm, almost distant beneath the hum of conversation and the quiet clink of glassware. It felt… unreal in the best way.

She looked up at him, eyes bright in the ambient light, the silver-blue flowers cradled carefully against her chest.

"The last time I was at a party like this," she said with a small, almost embarrassed smile, "I got so tipsy on champagne I forgot what I was trying to say halfway through a conversation." A quiet breath of laughter escaped her. "Do you like that?"

Her gaze drifted toward the circulating servers carrying trays of sparkling flutes and deeper glasses of wine.

"Normally I'd go for hot chocolate," she admitted, lips curving softly. "But I kind of want to be risky tonight." Her head tilted just slightly as she studied him. "That's what this is about… right? Trying something different. Choosing joy on purpose."

She shifted closer without thinking, lowering her voice just enough that it belonged only to him.

"What do you want to drink?" she asked gently.

Then, almost as an afterthought, but not really, she leaned in a fraction more, her lips near his ear.

"You look wonderful," she whispered, warmth threading through the words like a secret meant only for him.

Veyran Solis

 

[Dante Phantomhive]

He took a deep breath. He wasn't the biggest fan of these events, but he always felt the weight of obligation due to his position. He had been sitting quietly in his chair for a while, having just finished his tea.

His one eye stared at the place as he got up and walked with his cane, fashionable on his planet, and walked slowly with a bored expression on his young face.

(OOC: Dante's home lanet is Victorian Aesthetic without the bad side)


Open for interactions

 

[Vulpesen]

He bit back a laugh as she mentioned his "patience," though his tail snapped from one side to the other. It wasn't sardonic or derisive, but there was certainly a level of ironic recognition to his tone. "Not a word I've ever used to describe myself. So often, I'm driven crazy by how long it takes the court to get through with any sort of paperwork. And the jedi thought I was half crazy, the way I ran around from battle to battle. But I suppose, given how long I've lived, and how long I will live, I have learned a measure of self control."

For a moment, the mask of the diplomat, the carefully crafted exterior meant for all the functionaries and dignitaries around them, broke. Beneath that shattered mask, a lopsided grin was revealed as Vulpesen met Ra's eyes. "And some things are worth waiting for. The wheel of time turns, but the road doesn't always need to be rough or harsh."

Ra'a'mah

 

[Morta Izanami]

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[]

Comfortable Liar - by Chevelle

​

Tag: Open

Beneath the vaulted ceiling of the Sky Pavilion, she led the protocol droid through a haze of perfumed air and low, spectral music that seemed less performed than summoned. The floor shimmered like pooled mercury beneath soft illumination, and the gathered patrons drifted in languid eddies, each caught within the private gravity of their own unrest or relaxation.

At a hovering tray she paused and claimed a tall glass of something blue and effervescent, its surface alive with restless fizzing light, and drank deep as though tasting the very hum of the Pavilion's electric heart. The droid followed with precise, whirring obedience, its polished chassis reflecting fractured glimpses of the room's quiet despair.

She gestured lightly with her glass as they moved along the perimeter. There, a woman in silver sat alone at a crescent table, staring into amber liquid as though divining answers in its depths; beyond her, a man swayed faintly to the music with eyes closed, clutching his drink like a talisman against memory. Near the dance floor's edge stood a trio locked in silent debate with themselves, their feet betraying a longing to step forward while pride nailed them in place.

The music pulsed, soft, insidious, and her gaze lingered upon them with a knowing glint, as though she beheld not merely revelers but specimens in some grander, unspoken experiment of longing and hesitation.

At last, she turned to the protocol droid, whose photoreceptors glowed with attentive patience, and a crooked smile touched her lips. "Look at 'em all," she said, her brogue lilting in playful tones, lifting the blue drink in idle salute. "Lonely souls that lot, drownin' their sorrows in bright glasses and borrowed music, and you've chosen me o' all creatures to pass the hours with."

She took another thoughtful sip, the fizz crackling faintly in the hush between notes. "I'm not lonely, mind ye, but until someone or somethin' more interestin' wanders along, I'll converse with ye, droid. Mayhap we might even become friends, just maybe. But tell me, droid, way are ye not annoyin' some politician or royalty figure, as ye can see plainly as the nose on me face, I represent neither."

 

[Veyran Solis]

Veyran Solis​

Veyran's brows lifted slowly as he listened to her story, and then a devilish grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, I see," he said, his tone warm and teasing. The rare playful edge in his voice made his smile sharper, brighter. "So you were being… bad, so to speak."

He tilted his head slightly, studying her with open amusement, clearly enjoying this side of the conversation more than he expected.

"And the thought of seeing you stumble through your words," Veyran added gently, "Is actually quite cute and sweet, to be honest."

He gave an easy smile and a small nod of his head, his posture relaxed, his attention fully on her.

"Then let us get risky," he continued with quiet enthusiasm. "Maybe a glass of champagne, or whiskey. I am savvy to whichever you are willing to try."

When she leaned in and whispered near his ear, the faintest shade of red crept across his cheeks, betraying him despite himself. His eyebrows rose lightly, and without overthinking it, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, followed by a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you, love," Veyran murmured warmly. "You look beautiful, not just tonight, but always."

His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, affectionate and unguarded, before he offered a small nod toward the bar.

"Come on," he said softly, already beginning to guide them forward, his smile still carrying that quiet, playful spark as they moved together into the glow of the spire.

 

[Cora]

Cora tilted her head to the side, that same brow raised high again. The man looked... nervous? He didn't seem like the type to get nervous. Then he giggled and a familiar smile filled his features.

"I have some strong sense to get to know you Cora."

Cautious, yet curious, she thought she would at least humour him for the night. "Alright, Caelus, you've convinced me." She returned a smile to him. He wants to get to know me? Her eye scanned over him again, taking in all his features, his posture, his presence, still unsure what it was about him that felt strange. Then she looked into his eyes. They shimmered in a way she had never witnessed before. Almost as if they weren't human. Or perhaps it was just the depth at which he was looking at her.

Physically recoiling a little in her discomfort, her cheeks flushed and there was a strange sensation she felt forming deep within her stomach. Like her insides were twisting into knots. Quickly, her eye darted away, looking for something else, anything else to gaze at. Thinking of something to break the tension with, she stammered a little as she hastily spoke. "So, Caelus." Something caught in her throat before she could continue. She paused for a beat to clear it before continuing. "Tell me, exactly what makes you tick?"

Casually, she took another swig of her drink as she awaited his response.


Caelus Vire // NIHIL