Faction (DIA) When the Bonfire Burns Bright

[Misfits Delight]

The sun dipped low over Prefsbelt IV, casting long amber streaks across the rolling plains and clustered surface settlements. Tonight, one of those quiet valleys had been transformed—its central square arranged with careful intention, banners bearing Diarchy insignia woven among strings of lantern light, and temporary pavilions rising beside old stone paths.

This was no military installation.

Not tonight.

Instead, it had been designated as the site of the Diarchy’s New Year gathering. A moment set aside for its members to come together beyond duty, beyond rank, and beyond obligation. Personnel, affiliates, and guests filtered in from transports and shuttles, trading uniforms and armor for warmer coats and civilian attire, their voices blending with the soft wind that swept across the fields.

At the heart of the square, a massive bonfire burned within a wide ring of stone and durasteel, its flames rising high and steady into the night. Carefully stacked logs and regulated fuel cells kept the fire strong, sending sparks drifting upward like tiny stars. Its golden glow spread across the gathering, warming hands, faces, and spirits alike. People naturally gravitated toward it, forming loose circles of conversation, laughter, and quiet companionship, as though the fire itself were calling them together.

Around the square, stalls offered roasted tubers, spiced meats, sweet pastries, and steaming mugs of cider and tea. Communal tables and benches filled quickly as nearby musicians tuned their instruments, preparing to fill the evening with gentle melodies and steady rhythms for dancing, storytelling, and reflection.

Above it all, Prefsbelt’s twin moons climbed slowly into view, pale and watchful, as stars emerged one by one across the darkening sky. Their light shimmered in transparisteel glasses, polished boots, and quiet smiles. Small reminders that the galaxy was vast, and that this moment was rare.

Throughout the crowd, conversations naturally turned to the year that had passed. Victories remembered. Losses honored. Lessons quietly acknowledged. Some spoke with optimism, others with caution, but all with the understanding that another chapter was about to begin.

Near the great fire, a soft hush began to spread. Not silence, but a shared awareness.

The countdown would soon begin.

And for this one night, on this quiet world beneath unfamiliar stars, the Diarchy stood together not as strategists, soldiers, or leaders. But as people gathered in warmth and light, ready to welcome whatever came next.

 

[Jairdain Ismet-Thio]

Jairdain arrived quietly, moving with the kind of unobtrusive grace that never demanded attention yet always carried its own quiet presence. There was no announcement when she entered the valley, no sudden shift in the crowd, no visible marker that set her apart from the others filtering in for the evening gathering. She came on foot from the edge of the square, guided not by sight but by memory, instinct, and the gentle pull of familiar presences through the Force. A light cloak rested loosely around her shoulders, its deep blue fabric lined with soft insulation against the evening chill, and beneath it she wore a simple, flowing dress in muted silver and charcoal that accommodated the unmistakable curve of her pregnancy with ease and quiet elegance.

Her hair had been left loose, cascading down her back in dark waves that caught stray hints of firelight as she moved. One hand rested lightly against her abdomen, not out of discomfort but out of habit and reassurance, as though grounding herself in the steady, living reality of the child growing within her. The warmth of the bonfire reached her long before she drew near, carried on subtle shifts in temperature and in the way people unconsciously adjusted their paths around its glow. More than that, she felt the emotional landscape of the gathering: the gentle lift of spirits, the undercurrent of relief, the mingling of nostalgia and cautious hope that threaded through the crowd like a living tapestry.

It was different from most gatherings she attended. There were no briefings waiting to begin, no tension hidden beneath polite words, no unspoken calculations shaping the air. There were only people, breathing space, and a rare, fragile pause in the constant motion of their lives. For a moment, she stood near the edge of the square and allowed herself to take it in through the Force: the laughter drifting between clusters of friends, the warmth shared over cups of cider, the quiet conversations between those who had survived things together that few others would ever fully understand. It made something in her chest tighten, not with pain but with a tender ache she rarely allowed herself to feel.

Then she felt him.

Jax's presence stood out immediately, steady and unmistakable, anchored near the great fire like a familiar constant in the shifting currents around it. Relief washed through her in a slow, quiet wave, easing tension she had not realized she was still carrying. Without hurry, she turned toward him and began to walk. Her steps were measured and careful, without hesitation, her balance and rhythm altered by pregnancy, but her composure entirely intact. She moved with the same quiet dignity she always carried, even now, even when every movement required more thought than it once had.

As she drew closer, the sounds of the gathering softened around her awareness, replaced by the gentle pull of his presence. "Jax," she said softly when she was near enough for him to hear, her voice warm and unmistakably meant for him alone. A small smile touched her lips as she lifted her face toward him, guided by the bond they shared rather than by sight. "I was beginning to think you might be hiding somewhere with the musicians."

There was gentle humor in her tone, but beneath it lay something deeper: relief, gratitude, and the quiet joy of finding him safe and present after everything they had endured. She reached for him, her fingers finding his sleeve and then his hand with practiced ease, the familiarity of the gesture grounding her as much as it connected them.

"It is beautiful," she said after a moment, her attention drifting toward the fire, the lanterns, and the soft murmur of voices. "They did well with this. It feels peaceful, far more than I expected." Her thumb brushed lightly against his hand, a small gesture of connection. "And the baby seems to agree," she added with a faint, amused smile. "He has been unusually calm since we arrived."

For a heartbeat, she leaned slightly into him, allowing herself that small, private moment of closeness amid the crowd. "For tonight," she said quietly, her voice warm with sincerity, "I am very glad we are here together."

Jax Thio

 

[Viari Banu]

Gathering​

It was typical for Viari to remain at a distance, quietly observing the events unfolding beneath his chosen perch. He didn't much like to interfere without understanding, but today was different. Viari stood nearer the flames, motes of light raising above him in the gentle breeze, their light reflected in his eyes, like little messengers carrying away people's hopes and dreams.​

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Elsewhere, he imagined his tribe would be doing the same, and he hoped sincerely his father had found a similar group with which to share for there could be nothing greater than to share with new & old friends, family, and lovers. Slowly, he craned his beak towards hero-Jairdain and Jax, his feathers softening at the affection and budding life they shared. He resisted the urge to barge in, introducing himself more eagerly to her mate. It was neither the time nor place for that, and he decided to leave it to another opportunity.​

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A low-mewl grabbed his attention next, Pépite, the juvenile Windshear, as christened by Zaytee , lay subdued beneath the canopy of a great tree. The ball of scales and marbled kyber had naturally attracted some attention from the crowd, becoming the topic of conversation for those that spotted him. He imagined friend-Sage was probably somewhere nearby, perhaps curled up behind him.​

Open

Div created by Makeb​

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The warmth of the great bonfire reached her long before she reached the square.

Iandre approached from one of the outer paths that wound between temporary pavilions and low stone walls, her steps unhurried as she followed the glow spilling across the valley. Lantern light reflected softly against her boots and the hem of her coat, mingling with the distant sound of music and quiet laughter drifting on the evening air.

For once, she was not in uniform.

She wore a long, dark civilian coat lined with subtle thermal weave, left open over a simple slate-blue tunic and fitted trousers. The cut was practical, as always, but without any insignia, plating, or ceremonial trim. No markers of rank. No visible reminders of command. Just clothing chosen for comfort and warmth rather than authority. And her hair was loose.

Dark strands fell freely down her back and over her shoulders, catching hints of gold and firelight as she moved. It was an unfamiliar look for anyone who knew her well, unrestrained and unbound, a quiet departure from the tight braids and regulation patterns she usually wore. Tonight, she had allowed herself that small change. A reminder that this gathering was meant to be different.

She slowed near the edge of the square, pausing for a moment to take it in.

The fire burned steadily at the center, its sparks rising into the night like scattered stars. Groups clustered around it in loose circles, some seated at tables, others standing with mugs in hand. Soldiers and administrators, pilots and engineers, medics and aides, all blurred together in civilian coats and scarves. Ranks dissolved. Titles softened. For a few hours, at least, everyone was simply present.

Her gaze moved across familiar faces, recognizing friends, subordinates, and colleagues without interrupting their conversations. She offered a quiet nod here, a small smile there, but did not linger. Tonight, she did not feel the need to circulate or manage the atmosphere. Others were handling that.

Instead, she drifted toward a bench set slightly apart from the main fire ring, positioned near a low stone wall that overlooked the valley below. From here, she could see both the gathering and the stars beyond it, a balance she found comforting.

She sat, folding her hands loosely in her lap. For a moment, she simply listened. The crackle of burning logs. The murmur of voices. The faint music that was weaving through it all. The soft rush of wind over grass and fabric. It was peaceful. Rarely so, in her life.

Her shoulders eased almost imperceptibly as she let herself settle into the rhythm of the evening. The vigilance that usually lived beneath her skin did not disappear, but it loosened its grip. She remained aware of her surroundings, of course, but without the sharp edge of expectation that accompanied most gatherings involving power and politics.

Her eyes lifted occasionally toward the paths leading into the square.

She was waiting. Not impatiently. Not anxiously. Simply…expectantly.

Rellik would come when he was able. There were always last-minute conversations, final obligations, lingering responsibilities that followed him even into moments meant for rest. She understood that better than anyone.

Still, she had chosen this spot with intention.

A place where they could sit together without being immediately surrounded. Where they could watch the fire, the people, and the sky without being the center of attention. Where, for a little while, they could just exist beside one another.

As a faint breeze stirred her loose hair, she lifted one hand to tuck a strand behind her ear, her gaze still fixed on the square's entrance. A small, private smile touched her lips. She was content to wait.

Diarch Rellik

 

[Morta Izanami]

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Comfortable Liar - by Chevelle
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Tag: Open

Next to one of the food stalls outside the square, where the aromas of food and drink swayed through the night air, Morta and Macha sat upon the cold ground as though they were but two idle maidens and not forces whose shadows brushed the hem of darker things.

The bonfire roared at the square's heart, its embers twisting upward like a congregation of fiery souls seeking reluctant absolution, casting monstrous silhouettes that swayed and stretched against the surrounding facades. Citizens of the Diarchy gathered in joyful merriment; laughing loudly, dancing fervently; as various musical instruments spilled their feverish tunes into the night air.

Macha, with innocent absorption, nibbled upon a plate of rare and curiously spiced delicacies, fruits and vegetables that glistened like lacquered organs and sugared meats dusted in shimmering powders; won through Morta's honeyed persuasion of a flustered vendor who now watched from afar, uncertain whether he had been charmed or subtly ensorcelled.

She, herself, reclined with languid grace, her golden eyes reflecting the bonfire's glow as though it burned within her rather than before her. The music drifted over her like incense in some profane tomb, and she listened not merely to its melody but to the tremor beneath it; the fragile thrum of mortal joy defying the vast, encroaching dark.

Slowly, her gaze lifted beyond the smoke and revelry to the twin pale moons that hung in spectral vigil above, their argent light bathing the square in a softness that belied the cosmos' indifference, surrounded by countless stars in various stages of illumination.

Her hand moved in slow, absent circles along Macha's broad back, fingers threading through thick fur as the great bear continued her earnest devouring of sugared meats and glistening fruits. "Ah now," she whispered in a lilting cadence that carried the hush of old worlds, "the stars don't appear half so beautiful as they do on Kashyyyk at night. There's a softness to them there, like lanterns hung in a cathedral of branches. We might have to visit soon, Macha, wouldn't ye agree?"

Her smile curved, sly and fond in equal measure. "And how's yer feast, lass? Worth the trouble of me silver tongue?"

A roar of laughter erupted near the bonfire's edge, where tankards were raised like offerings to some jovial and ill-advised god. Her gaze slid sideways, curiosity quick as a striking serpent. "Oh now look at that," she breathed, amusement darkening her tone. "A drinkin' contest, bold as brass 'neath the moons. Do I dare to get involved?"

The question lingered not as doubt but as promise, for there was mischief coiled behind her eyes, and the night itself seemed to lean closer in anticipation. Beside her, Macha chewed on, unconcerned with mortal folly.

 

[Zaytee]

Zaytee was in her full element as she danced around the bonfire, jumping between conversing groups when she found something interesting, and snacking from random tables with pure excitement, while her tail thumped a fast rhythm on the ground, making a small pile of dust fly up with every new hit.

The shared delicacies, lighthearted conversations and laughter all around, and the fire that reached toward the starlit night sky all seemed to give the promise of a calm and happy night, one where earlier fights and quarrels didn't matter for a moment, and they all could enjoy the blessings of a new start.

As she ran around from table to table, shoving small pieces of bite-sized cakes and roasted meats into her mouth, she finally noticed a familiar, feathered form through the moving crowd of bodies, immediately recognizing them by the white and red streaks on each feathers. She looked at the sweet dessert in her hand, quickly inhaling it in one bite, then with swift movements, she sneaked close to the Rishii, approaching him from behing like a hunting cat. Her steps noiseless, even if the celebration would have hidden them, while her tail kept swiping back and forth, keeping her perfectly balanced while she slipped through groups, stalking the giant bird from behind before with a big leap, she jumped into his neck.

"Chicken!" She yelled happily, wrapping her arms around Viari's neck and nuzzling her face into the soft feathers.

Viari Banu

 

[Viari Banu]

Dragon Attack!​

Zaytee​

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Petite tracked the reptile-girl through the crowd, her tail raised with a universal display of excitement. Her feline agility brought her close to his friend, and the Rishii seemed to focused on the stars to notice, or perhaps he did and was simply playing along. Rishii were highly sensitive to light and sound, so he judged it to be the latter. Whatever the case, he watched Pyeth tumble to the ground, the reptile-girl's face rubbing into his quilt of feathers.​

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"ACK?!" Viari squawks, his body pressed down under the weight of his stalker. The moment she spoke, he recognised her voice, and replied, "Friend-Zaytee! I am not chicken!" He chirped, although raised there was a hint of affection and Petite seemed to sigh as he rested his head, leaving Viari to his fate.​

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Viari's tail intermingled with Zaytee as he rolls over, his amber eyes brightening and ear-tufts raising in response to her ambush. Carefully, he preened a strand of her hair, before welcoming her, "Hello friend, how are you, is your wound healing well?"​

Div created by Makeb​

 

[Zaytee]

The young Kiir's tail wagged proudly at her own achievement of catching the Rishii off-guard, while a happy cackle burts out of her, face beaming with happiness. She took a small sniff of the bird's scent to make sure it was really him, letting her lungs fill with the scent of sweet fruits and a light hint of the smokey fire's spicy smell, then she shook her head quickly.

"You look like chicken, you chicken." She giggled quietly, still clinging into Viari. "But still the bestest chicken in the whoooole galaxy!"

Trying to reciprocate his preening, Zaytee gently caressed her fingers through his feathers, but unluckily, and maybe because of her not-bird ancestors, she only ruffled them up into a giant mess. But this didn't stop her from hugging him even tighter.

"Yesyes, it's already almost disappeared!" She nodded excitedly, making small chirping noises out of happiness. "All thanks to one veeeeeeery special giant bird." Her tail wrapped around one of his legs, squeezing him in a tight hold like one of the massive, snake like creatures from her home planet, able to crush their prey only with the grasping hold of a few muscles. "And how are you? I haven't seen you since the attack of those bucketheads... Are you causing them trouble nowadays?"

She winked at the Rishii, lightly blushing cheeks showing that maybe the Kiir drank a little bit too much out of the drinks of the more grownup revellers.

Viari Banu