Drink the Night

[Kuzo]

​

The proprietors of The Black Feather liked to claim that the interior had been recreated from a lost evening club, buried for centuries in the depths of the Coruscant Underworld. An Empire from ages past, a period of wealthy sybarites, it was a safe, carefully cultivated form of 'slumming' it for the elite. Outside the darkness creeped, but within, high quality alcohol flowed freely. ​

​

For tonight, however, the Black Feather was vacant. Irajah had rented out the bar, as well as the top floor of the hotel that towered above it in the heart of New City. There would be no random strangers, except those who were guests of those invited, showing up to spoil the evening. A pair of bartenders, paid additionally for their silence, stationed in preparation. Far above, a trio of suites, empty in case the party spilled over because Irajah knew [member="Matsu Xiangu"] and [member="Carach"] far too well to assume it would not.

There was no reason given when inviting those who were to come tonight. To call it a 'party', well, that would be a shallow conveyance. Though Irajah didn't not feel celebratory after what had come to pass, she felt a grim satisfaction. And at the suggestion of one of those she cared about, a gathering of people, of living bodies- of laughter, of *life*- she had agreed and reached out.

Dark hair flowed long now, where she'd once kept it cut short around her chin, brushing down to mid back. She hadn't decided how she felt about it yet, but didn't care enough to cut it. Dressed in black, only those who were invited here tonight with a history would see the changes. Bruises and scars gone, the glow of an almost feral good health. Her face was hers, familiar, but a certain distance lurked in those hazel eyes, for those who knew her well.

Irajah turned away from the bar after giving final instructions, making certain particular favorites of her favorite guests were available.​ A large hand, strong and firm reached out and encircled her wrist, pulling her over and into his arms. Carach leaned down, kissing her deeply in greeting.

"Before the mob arrives," he said against her mouth, "I'm glad you came back."

She kissed him back, fighting through that deep detachment- he was one of the few that mattered enough to fight it, but it didn't come easily. Not yet. Not after everything. Fighting back, pushing back, against the grey tone that remained after it all mattered, and she knew that. And certain people had managed to find their way in, beneath the ice. But there was still a distance, and while he promised it would shrink and fade with time, everything was still too fresh.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," she murmured back.

The party was not for her. Most of those coming had no idea what had occurred, and she had no intention of telling them otherwise. She wanted, not to be the center of attention, but to let the energy of what she hoped would be a pleasant evening for all involved, try to melt some of the ice left from the Netherworld.

It mattered. She knew it did.

The question was just would it help?

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=myKiQQvVYhs[/media]​

OOC:

Spoiler

[member="Reverance"] [member="Aver Brand"] [member="Darth Ophidia"] [member="Jacob Crawford"] [member="Aria Vale"] [member="Darth Imperia"] [member="The Slave"] [member="Vereshin"] [member="Myn Eris"] [member="Ameli Trahir"] Folks who know they are invited but I forgot to tag, or anyone's plus one's can also show. This is a *big* thread for a private thread, so treat it like a larger public thread- tag the folks you are interacting with directly and have fun. It's a party not a mob Raj thing so drink, play sabacc, head up to the presidential suite and fade, have a blast

 

[Reverance]

For those who knew him, they understood that he wasn't often one for the more elegant side of decor. There was a certain needlessness in dressing in such finery - blood was difficult to wash out, complications that often led to disposal over cleaning. But when he read the invitation, ran his fingers over the embossed lettering, he took the instructions to heart. Black tie is optional and encouraged.

Maybe he wasn't wearing a full out tie, but he cleaned up where he felt it was appropriate. Hair drawn back, a suit and starched collar - someone might have mistaken him for going to a benefit for the family of Dave and those killed by the rebel alliance, so long ago. But this wasn't the One Sith, or a faction at all. This was a gathering of like minded individuals, a place where his proclivities and mania could be accepted as more eccentricity and less depravity. Perhaps misguided in sentiment, but appreciated nonetheless.

He pulled at the shirt cuffs beneath the coat, watching the flash of lights as the lift ascended. The night was full of strobes, adjacent buildings still alive with the activity that defined an ecumunopolis. Breathing, heaving, bleeding, living and dying, all at the same time. Rebirth and death commingled before his pensive crimson gaze, the backdrop of buildings laid out amidst the slight reflection of his figure in the polished glass.

He had no intent on causing undue damage, far removed from his typical tendencies in New City. As far as he could tell, that was a rarity for such an occasion - his occurrence was one often marred in blood and death. Perhaps this would be no different, perhaps things would follow the normal rhyme and rhythm. As the lift came to a halt, he stepped into the Black Feather. He had been here once or twice before, [member="Matsu Xiangu"] and [member="Irajah Ven"] staring him down as he inflicted pain and discomfort to the normal patrons - all to the sound of applying a foreign history to his image. The smell of woods and antiquity filled the air, giving him the sense of arriving in a time period and culture that was no longer existent. Removed from the modernization of star travel and hyperspace, this place called to a certain simplicity.

Lacquered wood.

Supple riveted leather.

Vibrant yellows and oranges.

His gaze drifted to those who had arrived or who were there to begin with. He had spoken to Raj since her revival, felt out the deformities that occurred between then and now. The hollowness that lingered beneath dual pools of hazel left him feeling oddly discouraged, like cutting an artery but never seeing the spray. He had thoughts towards rectification and he hoped a night like this might lead the way. Expectation for spectacle was high, given who he assumed was invited. Nothing was better for finding passion than moments spent among differing people of variable passions and interests.

Approaching the bar, he signaled to the bartender with distance between thumb and index. "Clean." He stated quietly. The barkeep, equipped with a pomade comb-over and thick beard, returned with a double serving of expensive whiskey. Warm in the glass, hot going down, he took a sip and searched the room. He and [member="Carach"] had spoken, through investigation, and resolved what betrayal lingered in the depths of their sordid past. Embrace and forgiveness served as eventual outcome, both sought out by the man who once called himself Wrath. So it was no surprise that his gaze might have lingered upon the tall form before looking back to Raj, wearing a black dress that reminded him of a fond night spent in the underbelly of this New City.

He looked back towards the elevator, full of expectation for [member="Aver Brand"] to arrive. There were few things that weren't shared between he and her and his interest now lied in introduction. Following that, he believed the night would begin.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

"Force knows I tried," He murmured back before smirking against her.

***​

​

It was not difficult to feel her detachment, the ice and frost freezing shut the storm raging within - it was still there, like lightning in a bottle, trapped until the day came the cork popped entirely. But until that happened Raj was... limited, yet, that was not all that was wrong with her. When Carach had learned? When she had told him? It disturbed even him. The act of gnawing your own leg off to escape was not an unknown quantity to him, but it left a hole. Always. Forever? That was the one thing the Sith Lord wasn't sure of yet.

But the frost would thaw, it already was, even if the progress was slow.

The first arrival already flowed in - Rev, feelings immediately conflicted before they gave away for mild amusement (A tie, really?) and a fire that had little to do with his own amber consumption.

Carach opted to remain where he was.

Sitting suited splendid.

At the end of the bar, while watching with even more bemusement how Raj flowed from one corner to the other in an attempt to make everything perfect and controlled to specification.

The night was only starting. Trepidation was already settling in at the thought of one picture-perfect Vraggles finding her way here; Reverance had assured him she would come, after all... they had introductions to go through. Anger? Hunger, not uncertainty, never uncertainty. Once more the glass was raised, this time to the former Wrath once Carach noticed the stolen glances, before he took a quiet sip.

The second of many.

[member="Reverance"] | [member="Irajah Ven"] | @Everyone else~​

 

[Aver Brand]

The elevator jingle was the only sound in the rattling box. There were mirrors, and gilded wood, and even a fancy-ass petrol light. Go big or go home, apparently – even when it applied to evoking an antique feel. Not that she had any sentimental tingles for the decor. The only way she evaluated interior design was in terms of defenses and the usability of fixtures as impromptu weapons. The Black Feather didn’t qualify all that well.

It was alright. Aver (for once) wasn’t entering a bar with the intention to leave it full of broken furniture and bodies. This was… a social affair.

Ice blue settled on her reflection, and her lips curled upwards. Let no-one say she never cleaned up – bespoke black tuxedo, black bowtie, black waistcoat, red shirt. Cortosis cufflinks, too, and an underlay to boot. Special occasions warranted special effort, and Aver hadn’t been to an occasion this special since… well. Couldn’t recall if ever, really. The people above her she could already taste, familiar as they were, and excitement shot white-hot through her veins.

First one, jagged edges, red. She’d recognize [member="Reverance"] in a crowd of thousands, bound and blind and deaf. He shivered at the base of her spine, indulgent like a predator could only be amongst his peers – it was as rare a mood for him as the lack of armor was for her.

Second one, then, long unfelt, but never forgotten. The placid, still surface of a bottomless lake, with but two amber shards glittering from the depths. His reach didn’t have an end you could touch – he simply… petered out, expansive and encompassing and present. [member="Carach"].

The third… Aver stopped, eyes closed. She knew of her – through the eyes and fingers and lips of her lovers, Aver remembered her bruises, born from lifetimes’ worth of agony; her light step, her crooked little smile; her keen gaze, her piercing words; her acceptance of beasts so often shunned for the blood they left in their wake. She remembered how her warm flesh felt under metal fingers, how the spider lingered just at the edge of broken skin; how her body floated, alive and wired with promise of black talons, lips laughing into a kiss as she slipped into his wound.

But Aver did not know her.

ding

The firrerreo stepped out of the elevator with a sure stride, course set for the trio. She deposited her suitcase on a chair in passing – sabacc and pazaak and a sedate Ysalamiri to keep the crowd from cheating. But that was for later.

This was now, and now had her standing before a woman she had only ever seen through eyes of black and red. Never blue.

“You look different from this angle,” she said with a grin, offering a firm hand to [member="Irajah Ven"]. “I’m Aver.”
If you couldn’t start a night like this with some humor, you couldn’t start it at all – and for a woman who had greeted [member="Matsu Xiangu"] with ‘Need a hand?’ while the sorceress was looking for her severed limb in the middle of battle, this was all pretty tame. Maybe she was getting older.

No matter, though – one more introduction to settle. He’d never met her like this, after all.

“You’re staring, dear,” Aver spoke as she turned her dancing eyes to Carach, voice all gravel and smoked whiskey. “Seen a ghost?”

 

[Jacob Crawford]

Given the fact he now resided on Maena, it only took Jacob a simple flight across the Wastelands to reach the New City and to The Black Feather proper. Although during those times of quiet, he had thought upon events that had proceeded tonight.

Jacob remembered when he had felt Irajah's passing - he had stormed through the lower levels of the Asylum, practically terrifying his staff as he crossed through the actual facility. There had been thoughts to leave, fly away from Maena and travel to where he had felt Irajah through the connection. He hadn't got a specific location, but he had a fairly good idea of where she could've been. But it never happened, as Jacob had restained himself from acting so impulsively, knowing well enough that it was already to late. What could he have done anyway? She had already been dead.

So he had remained on Maena, focusing on his personal work while swirling in a termoil of emotions. Sadness had been a primary one, as much as it vexed him. Of course he was upset with Irajah's death, but she had told him her plans of circumventing it and coming back. It had taken him some hours to realize specifically why that didn't appease him.

Because there's still every chance it would fail, and she'd be lost for good.

That and the emotions he had felt on that fateful day, they had not been the ones of someone willingly passing on. No, they reminded Jacob of someone fighting for their lives - and failing. Something had gone wrong, and when he had looked into the news that had come from Dosuun, he knew it to be true though he also suspected something was amiss.

Nonetheless, after a stretch of time he had felt that connection suddenly spring to life again. He had been in his study reading up on something, and he felt that once lifeless tether suddenly snap to attention. Irajah had returned, she was alive. To say Jacob was happy was an understatement, although he didn't immediately spring up and go see her. He knew she'd needed rest, who wouldn't after having returned from death? So he had simply holocalled her, much like they had after the events on Coruscant. Jacob had wished her well, and they had talked lightly about things - nothing specifically about what happened, as a holocall was not the place for such discussion. Though it had been a opportune time, as was during that call that Irajah had invited him to a party that was to be held.

It wasn't his scene, he had hardly visited any bars or clubs unless he was working something, either a job or lead and certainly not for personal leisure. So he took the flight across Maena and made the trek through the city and towards the establishment itself. The elevator dinged as he arrived, doors sliding open to reveal a somewhat different Jacob than Irajah had last seen.

He was dressed in black, his new right cybernetic arm from Cerbera and iBorg on full display. Jacob's hair was a lot more slicked back than usual. The beard, once an out of control mess on Dxun - shaved completely after Dosuun, was now kept neatly trimmed. There was a different air to Jacob, a presence that hadn't even been there when they had last spoken at Blackwater. Irajah had seen the sides to him, the gradual shift away from the man she had helped off the Demon's Moon. It was clear he had found his place, rather than someone aimlessly wandering without any goals.

Stepping out of the elevator, Jacob's eyes waved over those that were present. Stopping briefly at [member="Reverance"] sitting at the bar, then [member="Aver Brand"] and [member="Carach"] . He didn't know either of the three, but figured they were friends of Irajah's. After that though, his attention lingered on [member="Irajah Ven"]. Looking her up and down with a certain look in his eyes. There was a base level appreciation of how she looked, but at foremost he had a look of simply wanting to know. She looked healthy, a lack of bruises and metal. And yet there was something else, just looking at her Jacob felt something was off. A mystery, one that almost instantly grasped at his desire to explore - but he refrained.

"Irajah," he said a smile on his face as he stopped before her - having waited until Aver was done with her greeting. "I'm glad to see you're alive and well." It was a repeat of the words he had greeted her with in their holocall. Only now they were physically talking, and he could do what he wanted to do when he had discovered she had come back.

He leaned down and gave her a hug.

 

[Vereshin]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmDDOFXSgAs​

​

A speeder taxi pulled up outside of the entrance of The Black Feather and Vereshin brushed the glass of the window with the end of his nose. Peering onward in curiosity, to say that was nervous was an understatement. The woman named [member="Vaylin"] he encountered before the forming of the Empire invited him to the casual gathering to rub shoulders with fellow Sith. Now an Acolyte along with Vereshin, the two proved an odd and successful pairing thrown together a second time. The angry Acolyte sat beside him, shifting awkwardly in her dress and he repressed the urge to stare.

"I think you look charming!" Widening his gaze and nodding his head, he offered words of comfort to little avail. Wearing a grey blazer over a plain shirt and matching knickerbockers which tucked into socks at his knee, Vereshin chose his usual attire. He rarely wore robes unless inside of the Sith temples. Brogues covered his feet beneath grossly thin legs and he smoothed over his shiny hair with a palm. He breathed deeply and exited the speeder to walk around Vaylin's side. Opening the door, he offered to take her hand and gulp as she refused. Breathing again, he swung the door shut and followed her inside.

The sight of famous names in black suits heightened Vi's nerves all the more. Unable to afford a tuxedo, his status shone obviously, though he only imagined he might look ridiculous wearing one. He offered his arm for Vaylin to take if she desired and flattened the front of his blazer. The two Acolytes entered coyly and Vereshin spied the host, [member="Irajah Ven"] and parted his thin lips in a smile of blackening teeth. He began to fumble at his pocket for his cigarette case and decided not to drink until later. The desire for alcohol pressed him, though he knew his health would not be forgiving.

Hovering by a spiral staircase, the sorcerer slid the cigarette case out of his pocket and placed a white cylinder rakishly in his mouth. He snapped his fingers for a violet spark and ignited the end. He recognized an Acolyte, [member="Jacob Crawford"] and decided to approach him first. Saying nothing, Vereshin inhaled his cigarette while his cheeks dented in a wordless smile. He slid a hand into his pocket and turned his head away, taking a further breath as sentences jumbled in his thoughts.

 

[Darth Imperia]

It had been far too long since Darth Imperia had gone to a party. In fact, by her reckoning, the last time she attended one was...oh, during her time as an acolyte. There'd been too much going on since then, both joyous and tragic, for her to really step back and relax. Even on her outings with her lover, there was always something gnawing at the back of her mind, something that kept her from letting go and living in the moment.

That ended tonight.

Tonight, Imperia was dressed in her finest regalia, hand crafted by the best tailors she could enthrall. In her purse was a kilo of Neutron Pixie, the most potent Spice she could get her hands on. But what made the night were the people beside her. [member="Aria Vale"], Lord of the Sith and love of Imperia's life, stood to her right, radiating power and absolutely enthralling. To Imperia's left lurked (or, more accurately, sulked) [member="Valeska Daeranthe"], Apprentice and, should she prove her worth, eventual Inheritor of all knowledge Imperia had to offer.

That left the speeder a bit crowded on the way there, admittedly, but nevermind that - the decor inside the Black Feather was well worth the mild discomfort. Imperia hadn't known what to expect from this little soiree - the last time [member="Irajah Ven"] had invited her to something like this, it had been a slumber party. She'd heard tell that the woman had changed, but this...this was impressive. The Black Feather was the sort of place where Imperia could feel comfortable - a place for people who knew they were better than the rabble outside, where the rich and powerful, the ruthless and ambitious, could bathe in self-indulgence, safely hidden from prying eyes.

"Ladies," began Imperia, a sort of dreamy mirth tinting her words, "I think this is going to be a good night."

 

[Vaylin]

Vaylin was currently a mix of things; grumpy, uncomfortable, angry and so on, none of them were good to say the least. Some of the anger was directed at [member="Aria Vale"], but for the most part it was aimed towards the Zabrak herself. Somehow, her master had yet again managed to convince her to do something - to go somewhere because it would be fun, or get her to relax some more. One would think that by now Vaylin would've found a way to not listen, but it was going against the fact that the vast majority of the time Aria ended up correct. The events that transpired on the Technicolor Beat were one such example.

And with some retrospection later on, she'd probably come to realize she had been rather unfair to [member="Vereshin"] . Who up to this point had to put up with the Zabrak, between her rather vocal venting or just sitting with her while she silent stewed in anger.

She had kept in contact with the young man after the events on Dantooine. It's how she eventually learned that directing him towards the Primeval hadn't quite worked out, and in turn Vereshin had found himself looking towards the newly formed Sith Empire. Vaylin had felt bad, and in part had been the reason she had asked him to come along to the party. Figuring that a good alternative was to introduce him to some pretty well known sith; at least that's how Aria had framed it to her when they talked about it.

Though the Zabrak had little idea that she was most likely throwing Vereshin into a lion's den, taking into consideration just who'd be attending the party.

Vaylin's eyes snapped over to Vereshin when he spoke, his compliment went over her head; and anger. Though she said nothing in response, nothing the young man wasn't even looking at her. Hell, he was pointedly trying not to. That had been a glimmer of amusement for Vaylin, watching Vereshin's reaction when she had gotten changed into her attire for the evening. There had been some initial staring, before he seemed to snap back to reality and didn't dare to stare again.

Eventually the speeder taxi stopped, and Vereshin was quick to depart the cab. He had moved around to open the door for her, but Vaylin had almost growled when he offered to help her out. Heels or not, the Zabrak was going to conquer them alone and not let them best her. It took a bit, but she managed to exit the taxi without immediately stumbling and falling - though she was sure Vereshin would probably stop her from doing the latter. Although as they approached the Black Feather, Vaylin started to grow increasingly nervous. Aside from Aria she wouldn't know anyone else inside. It was in that state that she did in fact take Vereshin's arm as they moved into the establishment itself.

The Zabrak was dressed in well, a dress. Something Vaylin never thought she would ever wear. Again, another example of her master being entirely too good at convincing her. The dress had ended up in her wardrobe as a result of a shopping trip that Aria had 'forced' her on, primarily because the Zabrak had neglected to get more clothes. And it wasn't the only article that her master had snuck into the pile that day.

Once they were inside, Vaylin's nervousness slowly added awkwardness to the mix. Her eyes flew around in search for Aria, but it seemed they had arrived before her. Vaylin noticed Vereshin smiling towards someone, and her gaze fell on [member="Irajah Ven"]. By the time they had arrived, Jacob had already finished conversing with the doctor and was now moving towards the bar. Aria had told Vaylin that someone called 'Irajah' had given her the invite, and the Zabrak could only presume the shorter woman was her.

After all, no one else currently present seemed to fit the name.

So she walked over to the woman, rather meekly while trying to hide how awkward she felt.

"Hello, I'm Vaylin." She began, offering a hand to Irajah to shake. "That's Vereshin." She pointed to her plus one, who had now moved over to a spiral staircase. Vaylin opened her mouth to continue, but stopped when a realization struck her. Suddenly recalling the glaring fact she; and in extension Vereshin, hadn't even been directly invited to the party. Nor did she know if Aria had informed Irajah that there would be some 'extra guests' or something.

A slight blush immediately began to spread across the Zabrak's cheeks.

"I um...hope you don't mind us being here? Aria sort of extended the invitation to me, I didn't really think beforehand if it would be alright."

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Ophidia stared into the air, her mind working through the numbers for the 'nth time. Her institute in the volcanic wastes of Maena was completed and was about to receive its first denizens. As its overseer, the Pale was responsible for ensuring that all things went smoothly, and the business of building for assassins was more cut-throat than most. She stopped for a second, something was off - What? What was it. Her brow furrowed, lips turning in a scowl. What? W- The kitchens, of course! She had stocked them, which accounted for-
Mumblemumble

Suddenly Ophidia snapped out of her thoughts, becoming aware of her situation once again.

"What?"

The elevator was lavishly devoted to wood and sub-par lighting. It was smelled redundant; burning liquid carbon; naturally formed carbon structures polished with another carbon solution in order to produce shine. It did bring her a certain focus, not unlike the mild taste of boiled leaves which she had become so fond of. Her mind sharpened quickly.

Inhale​

exhale​

They were going to a private social affair at the Black Feather. They being [member="Cerbera"] and herself. Ophidia had neglected to investigate the other guests, but some names rang familiar to her, besides the obvious lady of Maena herself, [member="Matsu Xiangu"] , of course. However, his was not Matsu's soirée, but one [member="Irajah Ven"] . Were she about to meet the dark associates Matsu had spoken of during their meeting? Perhaps, so. Perhaps others. Something put Ophidia on edge - Something was off, she didn't know what. This frustrated her.

She became aware of the dress she wore. It was flattering to her sparse shapeliness and turned the scars on her back into a framed work of art. Dark lines, branching out along her spine like fingers and crept up over the high lace collar that hugged her slender neck. Beneath Talith's brushstrokes, Ophidia's latissimus dorsi and trapezius clenched and unclenched, rippling under the pale skin as she forced herself to relax.

"I brought you something, from Ord Trasi" She reached to her bag, pulling out a linnen-wrapped square. "I think you might enjoy it. Though the pages between 168 and 172 are a bit loud."
Ding!

The doors opened and the rooms of wood and nailed leather opened up before them. The scent of whiskey hit her immediately, then came the sense of the dark personae inside. She was accustomed to this, but now - These - She had felt these before. Ophidia's mine hardened as her burning eyes surveyed the room before stepping into it. [member="Carach"] and [member="Aria Vale"] she had met, [member="Darth Imperia"] and [member="Vereshin"] she had seen in other places at other times. Some there were strangers with a reputation: Like Doctor Ven and [member="Jacob Crawford"]. [member="Vaylin"] was a stranger, and [member="Aver Brand"] she had never seen before, although there was something familiar about her presence. [member="Reverance"] she did recognise. Matsu did many strange things with corpses, but this was necromancy at a whole new level

Ophidia's fists balled into iron knots while memories from the last days of the One Sith came rushing back to her head: An empire on fire by her hand as she stood on her dead god.

She stepped out of the elevator.

 

[Reverance]

He watched quietly as those who were attending made their way to the affair. [member="Aver Brand"], just as he suspected, was wearing a tuxedo. He swore, one day, he'd see her in a dress that matched the tone of her hair. It was no surprise that she moved to [member="Irajah Ven"] and [member="Carach"] . The former being the flame to which all the moths would turn, the latter being a tall glass of well formed suit that she hadn't interacted with in some time.

Offering a pittance of a smile, he turned back towards the bar and finished off what remained in the tumbler. A bright mahogany fluid of refined age, smooth yet jagged all in the same whisper. A taste of the duality of life, resembling every day events that are just as quick to take as they are to give. And as he finished, he looked over his shoulder to look upon an array of people he didn't know. The younger man, [member="Jacob Crawford"], who had spoken to and hugged Raj - was now on his way to the bar. [member="Vereshin"], [member="Vaylin"], [member="Darth Imperia"]. People he didn't recognize, but he noted the similarity in signature. Not a kind one to be seen, not by traditional standards.

But then his eye fixed on someone he did know. And that pittance turned into a chuckle as his viewed narrowed on fists held at her side. Whatever could she be angry about, he wondered. After all, he led the One Sith to triumph. And in the same breath, he threw it all away in the fire that consumed Selvaris. He turned his back on the One Sith, left the head to be severed from the body - to flounder and roll over, never to rise whole again. That was the way of the Sith, cycles of destruction from which strength was built. But in truth, that wasn't any of concern. He did it for the sole reason that he felt like it. Strength be damned.

Turning back to the bar, he pulled out the antiquated menu to him and began running his voxyn finger along the items. Each was listed with various ingredients though no price was revealed. Obviously, given the people involved, money was no issue. So he stopped where it made sense, tapped on the bar for the barkeep, and pointed towards the item. "Two of these."

And in no time, they were there on little napkins. Small tumblers filled with ice and nearly luminescent green serum. Lifting one, he turned to [member="Darth Ophidia"] and rattled the drink. With ice clinking about, he wore a gaze that was pointed if not slightly aggressive. "Viper's venom. Mostly Kyrf. As I recall, you were fond of them...snakes, that is."

The drink was an olive branch, offered in absence of any recognition of wrongdoing.

 

[Ameli Trahir]

​

​

Ameli Trahir did not know the hostess. Though a former frequent surveyor of the Coruscanti nightlife, she did not know the venue. Yet for those who knew her, they understood that she was often one for the more elegant side of decor.© The invitation had been received with a mixture of suspicion and excitement sparked by curiosity. Her partner in crime was vocal in voicing the things that could go wrong. Many things could. But kark it. It was a party.

Based on what she could gather from invitation and location, it was a fancy dress event. One would think that would be a thing perfectly suited for Ameli. In many ways it was. Yet because she knew others would, she did not. The blonde Vahla would show up in something she’d call as casually elegant. Grey suit with black rims, tailored of course, over a beige&brown shirt, kept low cut. She wore a varied assortment of accessories, most of which were her own creations. Even her very first alchemical creation adorned her finger, a ring which kept her identity and presence in the Force subtle and out of reach. Best play cautious when dealing with unknown strangers.

Her senses were on high alert as she stepped out of the elevator. Calm fingers moved across the smooth surface of the wooden railing. Mahogany. From what she gathered it was indeed an invite only event, and not too many had been. There was a hint of sigar in the air, although she could see no one smoking. Perhaps it was lingering. Perhaps it was just the association places like this gave her. She felt a slight relief she had opted out of the black dress and high heels. Hers were flat, classy, and perfectly comfortable in a fight.

The further in she got, the more the following truth became available to her. Not only did she not know the hostess, she did not really know anyone. Why was she even here? Hopefully she was not the guest of honour. That was hardly ever a good thing in the midst strangers with sinister auras. Was yet another Sith empire in the making? At least this fellowship had a more refined taste than those of the previous secret meetings.

Drinks are important. Reconnaissance would come later. Drinks are important. The bar usually seemed like the standard move when in an unknown social circle. It gave her time to assess and analyse. Also free drinks. The barkeep mentioned the price of the liquid requested. “Oh no” she said with a laughing smile. “I’m on the list” “Very well” he replied, matching her smile, and poured her the drink. She didn’t know exactly what it was, she had simply gone for whatever looked the priciest. The bartender hadn’t even checked to confirm if she was on the so-called list, or whatever that meant. Little did it matter. She was in his mind, spinning her web. Even though she had recently acquired all the coin she could need, she would like to know what it was going to first.

Oh kark, was that Carach?

 

[NightSister]

Drifting alongside Imperia was Aria Vale, dark eyes uncharacteristically serious and faintly aloof. But regardless of her evident sombreness she was pleased to have come, welcomed the opportunity to dress up, to detach herself. She'd come clad in burgundy, dark hair piled on top of her head, until the Sith Lord had achieved an elegance she couldn't claim being used to. Unnatural, perhaps, but she dismissed the sensation easily, turning her attention to the party the trio was nearing.

She stepped out of the elevator and a smile reached her lips, plainly appreciative of the Black Feather's interior. Aria hadn't been certain what to expect when Irajah Ven had invited her along but she what she was presented with certainly suggested a night the Echani could enjoy. Eyes flickered briefly to meet Imperia's and then she trailed into the midst of the party.

Irajah had never had cause to tell Aria of the virus trapped within her body and so the latter woman couldn't appreciate the contrast between now and then as acutely as if she'd known, but she'd have to have been blind to miss how the woman had changed. The Sith Lord had never seen her without layers of clothing masking Gideon's effects but there she was - she had never seen her without that faint aura of light, but there she was.

"You look well," she greeted Irajah warmly, plainly glad to see the woman.

As other guests swarmed the hostess Aria brushed past and moved to the bar, quietly ordering a drink. A glass was set before her, contents bubbling golden, and the Sith sat down at the counter. For a few moments she drank silently, eyes surveying the party; she recognized the brunt of its guests but as always, there were a few she couldn't put a name to. Perhaps later she would change that - for now, she was happy to stay where she was.

Her attention went to the blonde opposite, expression curious.
"Hi," she opened, "I don't think we've met?"

 

[Kuzo]

Parting from [member="Carach"], hazel gaze scanned, trying to catch anything she had missed. But the details she could control were seen to, and people began to arrive. Some of them she simply met gaze with as the faces started to fill in. [member="Reverance"] got a ghost of a smile, a hint of a thaw. He was one of the few who had found space beneath the surface of the ice, and she was glad he'd come. [member="Aria Vale"] with [member="Darth Imperia"] and her current flavor of arm candy? A nod. @Cerebra as well, though that one with perhaps a tinge of deeper respect- and wariness. She didn't recognize [member="Darth Ophidia"], but clearly Rev did, the tension there left track marks in the air. She kept an eye on that one. [member="Ameli Trahir"] she did not know, but the flash of recognition in her eyes when she saw Carach? That she caught.

She felt [member="Aver Brand"] before she saw her, turning right into that firm handshake. And was forced, as usual, to look up.

She blinked. Off balance for a heartbeat.

Just as she had caught the ghost of Rev through Matsu, so had this phantom lurked, all shadows of ice and fire. It was just a flicker, an impression of barred teeth and more, reinforced now not only through one, but two channels, like staring down a double exposed photograph.

Hazel eyes peered up into ice blue orbs.

"You don't," she observed, smaller hand firm in return of that shake. "Aver. I'm glad to have a name to apply. Call me Raj."

She turned to watch, for just a moment, the greeting between she and Carach. The small flicker of a smile, something reminiscent of the last time she'd been in this bar with him....

If her hug in return to [member="Jacob Crawford"] seemed delayed, her murmured, "Alive and well, close enough, yes. I'm glad you came," a touch distant, and almost amused? Perhaps it could be forgiven. But she did return it, making sure he knew that his preferred indulgence (that knowledge offered by [member="Matsu Xiangu"]) was available at the bar.

Without a pause, she turned to [member="Vaylin"] on her approach, then flickered to her companion, [member="Vereshin"], by the stairs. Again, she didn't know either of them, but if they were here that meant they were guests of her guests, and she had explicitly extended that further welcome. People- she could remember what it felt like, the simple joy in the meeting, in coming to know new people. Would that return?

Did she care if it did?

"Aria's invitation included the extension to others," she said softly. Not to put the girl at ease perse, but because quiet seemed to be the current default setting. "She would not have brought you if it was not alright."

And speaking of-

She looked over from the zabrak, she greeted Aria with open hands. They were not what someone would consider close (not like others here tonight), but she had been there during a particularly trying time in her life, even if she hadn't known the particulars, and Irajah would not soon forget that.

"Thank you. I am glad to see you and Imperia both," she murmured.

And then, for the moment, she was alone. She leaned back against the bar, eyes casting over the small sea of people who had come. Most didn't know why, simply that it was a party that they had been invited to on the stronghold planet of one particular spider. For the moment, at least, she watched, gaze thoughtful and searching for something. But what, exactly, was not clear.

 

[Jacob Crawford]

Jacob frowned slightly as he wrapped his arms around [member="Irajah Ven"]. He could feel as though something was off. Though it was impossible to get any clarification, any insight beyond feeling an odd chill? It was particularly odd, and something he noted wasn't present when they had last met.

But when the hug was returned, Jacob felt something he was familiar with. A similiar glimmer of something murky - veiled by a mist he couldn't bypass. But it's presence was something Jacob knew well enough.

So she did end up there...

"Thank you for inviting me," he replied as he broke the hug. The smile was still there, but there was a look in his eyes. He had questions, quite a number of them. But equally acknowledged now was not the right time, another evening would be a more suitable. WIth a grateful nod at the confirmation his favoured drink was available, he left her to greet those that had since arrived.

Although as he moved to the bar, Jacob heard a voice he hadn't heard in years. He turned his head to see Vaylin conversing with Irajah. Much more grown up form when he had last seen her on Dxun - and was still as embarassed by something if her blush was any indication.

There was a flicker of recognition, Vaylin glanced his way and a silent acknowledgement was shared. Between someone who had been taking away to the Netherworld, and the other who had been abandoned because of it. Once Jedi, now Sith. Jacob left the Zabrak to her conversation and took a seat at the bar, he waved over the bartender and requested his drink. He wasn't one to drink alcohol often, but he had developed a taste for particulars whenever he did.

He began surveying who had arrived after all, seeing [member="Aria Vale"] as she approached the bar. He gave the woman a nod, still grateful for her assistance in his kidnapping endeavour not too long ago. Then he caught sight of [member="Cerbera"] with a Rattataki woman he was unfamiliar with. He fixed alchemist with a particular look, Jacob knew what she had done.

A glass of amber liquid was placed on the bartop, alerting him that his drink was ready. Turning on the stool, Jacob grabbed the glass and took a sip, letting out a content sigh as it went down. His nose wrinkled as the smell of fresh cigerette smoke reached it, alerting him to [member="Vereshin"] standing close by. He raised an eyebrow at the pale man, recognizing him as who had accompanied Vaylin - he had even heard his name.

"Vereshin, right?" He asked, offering a hand for the young man to shake.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Irajah Ven"]​

​

Carach looked on with something resembling amusement as Vraggles danced the dance she had done so many times over. It was interesting how different the feelings and thoughts were from the two different Sith- Reverance and Vrag, but both so intimately familiar to him throughout it all. Then - once the tease of Raj finished - Aver strutted over towards him; all confidence, all smirks and angles, all hunger... and bloody memories.

"I feel like ramming you against the wall." the Sith Lord commented casually, before taking a sip from his glass and letting it stir inside his mouth.

The glance they shared prolonged, then Carach smirked.

"Just ain't sure yet where to go from there yet."

There was still a taste of murder in his mind. The desire to wrap his hands around her, snapping her neck and leaving her to rot, maybe impale her and watch her bleed. But there were other emotions stirring behind those darker ones: hunger (always present and coiling within him), recognition, the feeling like they were finally all together again. And wasn't that when true power ruled and nothing could truly stop them, when they were all together?

Almost all of them.

"I heard you were busy, so busy, Aver." His glance went briefly to [member="Reverance"] chatting rather... well, murder hadn't been committed, so supposedly it was amicable. "Perhaps you will share some of those stories at some point."

Then his attention was suddenly tugged at by a new arrival.

[member="Ameli Trahir"].

Now that was a sight he hadn't been graced with in many, many years. His mind immediately - without even thinking about it, as easy as breathing - passed through the room and pushed at hers. First, to see how she would react to it, second to get an idea of intent and feeling.

Third?

"Sight for the sore eyes, dear Ameli, have you come to say hi to your Master?" To softly whisper something in her mind.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

[member="Darth Ophidia"] | [member="Irajah Ven"]

For all intents and purposes Cerbera was not a wearer of dresses.

It was wholly inefficient, lacking in comfort and depth of movement, while also looking quite silly indeed. That latter portion had vaguely melted away once Ophidia had shown what she was wearing to the party - ever the pragmatic scientist even Cerbera had to admit that the proportion ratio was statistically quite attractive. More research needed to be done, but the careful calculating eye had not been able to find many flaws in the shapes.

Eventually the Sith Lord had ended up with something... similar to a dress, but not quite. The hat was left at home after a brief discussion.

The rest was not.

Clear-cut leather painted in blues and gold, sharp angles, but leaving enough freedom of movement to accommodate anything from expressive dancing to suddenly needing to sit at a forge and hammer away to a protracted hammering of a different sort. "Darling, you shouldn't have." The present was accepted with a pleasant, if sharp smile and an inclination, before it disappeared into the moderately small purse between her hands.

Opening it now seemed to be a waste what with the lift already sliding open.

From there it was to mingling - at least, until Cerbera noticed the raise in skin temperature, the blood pressure heightening and shoulders sharpening before her eyes.

A soft press of a hand on Ophidia's back, followed by a whisper. "Emotions are for the weak, darling, and you are anything but." It concluded with a short pet, before Cerbera brushed past and moved on. They all had their contacts and mingling efforts, little sense in trying to stick together when they had all the time in the Galaxy for that later.

[member="Jacob Crawford"] was afforded a short glance, the upward turn of a smirk and general amusement.

The lad had figured it out, by the way of the annoyance radiating out. But right now there were more interesting business to attend to in the moment.

"Raj, impressive party- I am reasonably sure the contents of this room could conquer an entire sector of space together." A mock look-around, before she settled her glance back at her. "Perhaps a region, if they are feeling particularly bored."

Head tilted.

"How are you feeling now?" Cerbera had her doctor voice on now. After all, Raj was partially hers, it had been her hands shaping the body, her essence imbuing it with life, her claws pulling the idiot (no, darling, she is quite alright, remember?) out of the Netherworld and her mind pushing it into the new vessel.

A doctor must care for their patients.

This was one thing they had in common... for the most part.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Weak?
Passion is power, and in this moment Ophidia's heart was burning up in the flare of her rage. Was this not strength?

Every step she took was like a conquest, casting shade on the floor behind her. Her knuckles popped under the pressure of her clenched fists. A vein visibly pulsed in her forehead as she set an unblinking stare on the Silver haired man as he placed his order, received two glasses and offered one to her.

She slowed down.

Was it perhaps Cerbera's touch, or the offered olive branch of a glass? Ophidia's stride did not break, but shifted pace. Her eyes remained hard, but her jawline unclenched and her right hand unclenched. She remembered all the times she had looked up to the Wrath with admiration, aspiration - awe? He looked different in ways, but it was him. Her fires cooled for a moment.

She came within reach.

Her eyes softened just barely, and for the first time since she entered the room did she blink. Her eyes were painted with shades of black and blue, like the unfolding feather plume of some bird of paradise. It was not striking until she came close. Her left hand reached out to take the glass, black fingers touching the crystalline contained with confident acceptance. She let two of her fingers brush his ever so lightly as she accepted it. Her eyes opened from their slow blink.

Perhaps [member="Cerbera"] was right. Well, partly. Will and passion worked best when united, like the Sith once had.

And then it all went terribly fast.

Ophidia shifted her left foot as the right leg moved in a veritable blur. She threw a low kick at the bar stool to knock it over with [member="Reverance"] still on top. Despite her slender appearance, she could muster a lot of muscle power; her shins were hardened like duracrete and as numb as Cerbera's relationship to ethics. Following the low kick, she brought her leg around and up in what the Echani quaintly called an "axe-kick". It aimed to topple the One-Eyed man if he was still standing, or catch him on the floor if he had fallen.

She still held the glass in her hand. Of course, she did not think she would get away with this easily, but pride and fury were short-sighted motivators.

 

[Reverance]

He hadn't taken to the drink, not the variety offered to Ophidia. He was intent on sharing it with her, as he did the glory of the One Sith. He might have missed the downfall but it wasn't a particularly interesting affair, if the news was at all that accurate. Lesser parties squabbling for power, for influence, and asserting themselves as something they weren't. It was the One Sith that had brought him out of his retirement upon Point Nadir, hearing rumors of the remains that still stood strong as re-animated corpses beneath the once famed power of the united front.

The One Sith was meant to die and went it hadn't, he set out to finish the job. Just in time to watch it consume itself, as it should have from the very end.

Ophidia. Carach. These were the only two that he had truly met, since then. And while he didn't expect the meeting to go as it had with [member="Carach"], taking on a far more physical and comforting conclusion, he wasn't exactly expecting outright conflict. So when fingers brushed his, the inflection of hatred and anger and betrayal was all too potent. Something like that pours from the pores, from the very bones, and can hardly masquerade as something less severe beneath a still mask.

The first kick caught him somewhere between amusement and disregard. As the chair slid out and tumbled away from the bar, he stumbled back with awkward footing. Watching her shift her body, he tilted back and shifted his head. Just enough to avoid the oncoming strike from hitting his head. Instead, it cracked against his shoulder and sent him tripping backwards with his already lost balance.

Hitting a leather line cushioned, he slid over the arm and laid flat back on the cushion. Perhaps he could have taken a moment to assess his situation, to sort out his life, but that seemed inappropriate given the circumstance. Maybe he'd save his moments of inflection for [member="Irajah Ven"].

Shifting his weight, he placed his feet on the ground and sat back in chair. With a deep breath, he shook his head and pushed a black finger through the knot of his tie. Stretching his neck, he felt the CERS kick in - like a drug, amp filled with adrenaline, and confirming an invisible but ever present connection to [member="Aver Brand"]. And the Voxyn hand, with all its anger, gained a new focus.

"Was that your plan, then?" He stood, slowly, and when he came to, his voxyn hand ran across his scalp and through salt and pepper. "Did we miss our opportunity...for sincerest apologies?" He drew in air through his nose as he looked towards the barkeep. Lifting his hand, he motioned for another drink with space between displayed index and thumb - since his other drink had fallen to the floor amidst the clamor. Crimson gaze then shifted back to his assailant.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]​

 

[Vaylin]

It was between waiting for a response that Vaylin's attention lingered from [member="Irajah Ven"] and over to Jacob. A familiar tug of mind from the man in question was what alerted her to his presence. Which felt so very different to the last time she had seen him. Not just the change from Light to Dark, but also twisted by something else. The Netherworld had left its mark, and he was the only one out of their group that had returned from it.

Irajah's words snapped the Zabrak's back to her.

"Oh." Now she was even more flustered, realizing she had been worrying about something that was needless. "Well, thank you for doing that." And with that, Vaylin beat a slight hasty - as much as she could being so unused to heels, retreat away from the woman. Only to stumble slightly when she turned to see [member="Aria Vale"] as the woman settled herself at the bar. She sent a look at her master, a side glance/glare that at this point was familiar anytime Aria had convinced her apprentice to do something. Which so far, a hundred present of the time it ended up going well by the end.

What grabbed Vaylin's attention however were the two women her master had arrived with. She didn't recognize [member="Valeska Daeranthe"], but the fact she was a fellow Zabrak was already points in her mind. As such, on he approach she gave Valeska a smile. It was however [member="Darth Imperia"] that had her main focus. She matched the description Aria had given her after first hearing of the woman. Vaylin had always wanted to meet this 'Imperia', and it seemed this evening had provided the perfect opportunity.

"You're Imperia, yes?" She asked, standing before the pale woman. "Glad to finally meet you, I'm Vaylin." She mentally bit her lip from showing any awkwardness again. The first time before Irajah hadn't gone well, assuming things before she had spoken. Right now, the Zabrak only hoped her master had actually mentioned her.

 

[Aver Brand]

“I will,” she replied to [member="Irajah Ven"]. And many other things besides.

But that was neither here nor there. The merc was pretty sane – certainly the least crazy of the three – and as luck would have it, she was also patient. She’d waited through two lovers and a death just to meet her. What was a few hours more?

The time between now and the doubtless debauched afterparty was rife with opportunities, reunions, and drama. Boredom held no power here tonight.

“Patience, honey,” she drawled at [member="Carach"] as he fantasized out loud. “Looking at this lot, we’ll probably have the whole place leveled by morning.” With these folks, it wasn’t just a figure of speech.

“And perhaps I will. But not now. New faces, new people – girl’s gotta mingle. Ta.” Aver’s hand lingered on his shoulder before they both turned their attention elsewhere. A moment longer, and they’d have burned holes into each other with those eyes. Ice blue, bright amber. Theirs was a rhythm of the clashing tides.

The bar was now indeed swarming, young and upcoming and so very Sithly. She spotted [member="Aria Vale"] and her trailing harem, but saved that introduction for later. Over her shoulder – greenskin, a recent contract she’d sealed for Nadir. That introduction was coming… never, far as she was concerned. No need for [member="Cerbera"] to know her face.

Warmth slithered up her spine then. Aver paused in her step, cocking her head to the side as she listened to him. He moved, lazy and laughing inside – expected, then. The mercenary half-pivoted beside her chair, assessing the actual situation. Until the tune of [member="Reverance"] changed, she’d leave them be, but if [member="Darth Ophidia"] refused to let her childish grudge go…

Aver set her gaze on the compact suitcase she’d deposited upon arrival. Without ceremony, she swept it from the divan and took its place, setting the valise upon her lap. One five-digit code later, the box clicked open, revealing its neatly organized contents.

“Seems like tensions are running a tad high for some, yeah?” she spoke, rising her voice above the soft din of salon conversation. “I’ll be happy to offer an icebreaker – sabacc.” Red lips split into a smile as she began setting the decks of white cards upon the table. Soon, the chips followed, row by row of different colors.

“Most of you can probably afford to buy a small planet, but… well, it’s a friendly game. Buy-in’s ten thousand credits, dealer’s a droid.” With that, she set a round mechanism in the middle of the table, placing the card deck atop it.

“Join me, please.”

[member="Jacob Crawford"] | [member="Darth Imperia"] | [member="Vereshin"] | [member="Vaylin"] | [member="Ameli Trahir"]​