Drink the Night

[Darth Ophidia]

As he stood up and loosened his tie, she took a sizeable taste of the drink he had offered, then put it down on the bar. He had made a good choice, she would give him that. Still, she had no regret for her actions.

Were they beyond words? Beyond any kind of reconciliation?

"No, we are not. If I wanted to end this that way, you would never see me coming."

Was this trash-talk? No, she meant every word. If her desire was to kill him, then she had more efficient ways than beating his head into the floor of a fine establishment like this while surrounded by beings of considerable power. She held her hands out to either side and cocked her head to the side, opening herself entirely. Her eyes were back to an unbroken stare and her jaw set hard in her face. Her breath was quickened - not rapid, but more than it would be if she was resting.

"Words are cheap, but fists are honest. Will you be honest with me, Wrath? Or should I be honest to you?"

She sneered the final words. Such hate as she felt sat in the pores, this was true. With her touch she had him shown what she felt in the moment. She could tell him so much more, but not a word of it would pass her lips.

– sabacc. [...] Join me, please.

She really wanted to look at [member="Aver Brand"] 's offer, but her eyes remained still, fixed on [member="Reverance"] .

 

[Kuzo]

"I'll have to make sure they don't get bored then- I don't think the bar could handle it," she said with a hint of amusement. It was the best she had to offer these days, but even that was an improvement from when [member="Cerbera"] had turned her over to [member="Carach"] .

"I am told better," she said after a moment of thought. No, that wasn't fair. "Yes," she said firmly. "Better."

Better was such an utterly useless word. It was relative. To say that she was better than when Cerbera had dragged her, spiritually bleeding out from the Netherworld was a very, very small thing to say indeed.

Her brow furrowed slightly, just catching the exchange between [member="Darth Ophidia"] and [member="Reverance"] .

"Though it seems as though boredom won't be a problem... will you excuse me?"

She had not particularly worries, per se. The idea that Rev could do anything other than handle himself was laughable. But the idea of a knock down, drag out fight, ten minutes into the night?

Stepping over (not that this was happening that far away, the Black Feather could largely be described as intimate, after all), hazel eyes caught his singular gaze for a moment.

"Words are only cheap when they are wasted," she murmured, glancing at Ophidia before looking back at Rev.

She stepped between them, apparently immune to the tension that flexed like corded muscle in the air, tapping lightly on the bar. As if they'd been waiting for just that, a drink was mixed and deposited. Her instruction had been to simply surprise her whenever she came looking throughout the night. In what might end up being a futile attempt to capture a flavor of something that wasn't as grey as everything else.


"If you two are having fun, by all means," she continued, a ghost of a smile flickering over her face for him. "I just ask that you take it outside. I'd hate to see Aver's card game get disrupted by a flying body."

An imminently reasonable request.

Turning away now, she pulled up a chair at the table next to [member="Aver Brand"]. She either trusted them to settle their differences in a way that didn't disrupt everyone else, or else she didn't care. It was a toss up, from the outside, which it truly was.

"Coruscant standard? Or do you prefer different rules?"

 

[Reverance]

While gaze didn't shift from Ophidia, his attention fell on [member="Aver Brand"] and her sudden position as distant mediator. In truth, it was one that he wasn't used to. Often times she was a catalyst as much as he was, though perhaps not to the same degree as him. But for the first time that he could recall, this wasn't actually his doing - not directly. But he was content to take part in this particular tango.

Raising his natural hand to his chest, the palm rested against the tie and shirt - just above the breastplate. Almost mockingly, his fingers began patting against his chest, to the rhythm of a heart beat. Gaze fixed upon former ally, he smiled. "Ophidia...a Sith after my own hea -" His dialogue was interrupted by the glance of a petite woman and her shift into his focus. Listening to her talk, he stood quietly - demeanor removed from the tone he took with Ophidia. When she was finished, she moved passed them.

But not before he could reach out, ships passing in the dimly lit salon, as fingers moved across the phantom of a bruise. One offered in a hallway, with promise of repeat, as he made his own promise - to behave. At least, to the best of his abilities, given the circumstance. And like that, she was moving on to play cards with Aver, and he was back in the moment.

"Fists are hardly honest, Reach. But pain...such things speak volumes." While he spoke, he removed the jacket and approached the bar. Finding a hook beneath the counter, near [member="Jacob Crawford"], he strung it up on brass and looked towards the man. "Watch that for me, please."

He moved around the bar, eyeing the drink that arrived at [member="Irajah Ven"]'s presence. Pulling electrum cuff links from each sleeve, he held them out for the barkeeper to take. "I'll trade you..." In offering the cuff links, he expected what was in the mans hand. And what was in the hands of the expert craftsman: a blossom of curled rosemary and a blowtorch. Being a quick study, the barkeep handed over the torch and took the cufflinks. Pocketing them, Reverance chuckled as he opened one of the drawers.

"I'm not sure why you'd want to engage me in a direct fight...though I appreciate the offer. Truly." Rattling around the drawer, he withdrew several olive forks of varying length. Gathering them in one hand, he moved back around the bar top before setting the various things down near Ophidia. Then he was content to roll his sleeves up, still adorned in a clean white shirt, grey vest, and a black tie. "But I can see that you're not looking to be dismissed. So..." He fingered his way through the olive forks before deciding on one. Grabbing it by metal shaft, he flipped it over and offered it to the former Reach - handle first.

Tapping the rim of the glass with his voxyn hand, he took a sip of the drink and set the glass back down. "Tell me of your suffering. Or don't...the choice is yours."

She, of course, wasn't obligated. The last olive branch that would be offered in this instance. Though to say he didn't look forward to it would be an outright lie. But at least this method wouldn't involve flying bodies. Unless [member="Darth Ophidia"] saw things differently. She had to know that he obviously wouldn't allow undue harm to himself - the night was far too young for that sort of endeavor. Though, branding wasn't entirely out of the question.

 

[Vereshin]

Cigarette in hand, Vereshin heard the voice of Vaylin behind him as she introduced him to [member="Irajah Ven"]. He brushed a hand over his hair again in his nerves and turned around to greet her. Moving away from the staircase, his cheeks heated and turned purple as he offered the woman his hand to shake. He had his fair share of experience with doctors, though none so well-regarded.

"I'm very honored to be here, Miss Ven." With a sly smile, Vereshin left her to greet the other guests. He moved towards the bar and heard his name mentioned by the Acolyte he recognized earlier. [member="Jacob Crawford"] sat perched with a glass of amber alcohol in hand.

"Yes, that's right, though I go by Vi if you like." Wrapping skeletal fingers around Jacob's hand, he lightly shook it in his version of a hearty grip. He parted his thin lips and gave a smile of blackening teeth before raising a hand towards the bartender and ordering a glass of wine. He enjoyed vodka occasionally, though his body could not handle the stuff. Leaning backwards to take a seat beside, he rested an elbow on the bar and waited for the glass. The bartender brought his glass of wine which he hastily sipped while watching [member="Reverance"] engage in a heated conversation with the Assassin [member="Darth Ophidia"]. Voices raised higher and the Acolyte took a breath, disliking confrontation at the best of times.

"I think I've seen you around the temple, though I do not live there myself, what are you studying?" Vereshin diverted his gaze to Jacob and asked. Setting his glass on the table, he procured his cigarette case once more, opened it and lit another smoke directly off the finished one hanging from his lips. Ophidia then knocked Reverence clean off his stool and the Acolyte felt himself jolt. The Sith strode over to the bar to hang up his coat and Vereshin's shoulders tensed whiled the great Lord lingered so closely.

"I must say I'm relieved to find another Acolyte here." Gripping the edge of the bar, he took a longer sip of his wine and exchanged glances between Jacob and the bickering Lords. When not being wrenched away from his abode on dangerous quests by Darth Abyss, he found even greater comfort in solitude than before. He pushed his glasses up his nose and inhaled on the cigarette. The Sith Lord had a long way to go before smiting Vereshin of all his fear. [member="Aver Brand"] offered Sabaac to the wealthy elite in the room, an offer the sorcerer politely declined with a gesture of his hand. He did not have the means to spare for gambling.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

What was the most infuriating? Her grievance, or his serious offer of repentance?

As [member="Irajah Ven"] stepped between them, Ophidia looked down at the petite figure. Her eyes narrowed at the remark, but as the host requested she did find it suitable that this conflict should end or be taken elsewhere. She had been rash, she knew. Yet, she stood by it. This petite woman, Dr. Ven, Ophidia would have to pay her a closer mind if she could so quickly settle those she knew, and held the attention of the illustrious [member="Cerbera"] .

Reach. So he did remember. Was that better or worse?

As @Reverace removed his jacket and his cufflinks, Ophidia took another swing from the venom he had given her previously. It was still good, and she knew it would numb her ever so slightly should this come to blows. Even if their current confrontation did not, who was to say it would not happen during the night ahead? The room was full of dangerous folk, and alcohol was a funny uninhibitor.

"Consider it a sign of appreciation."

She accepted the fork and eyed it for a moment. Ophidia considered the many things one could do with a fork. She could have put it through his remaining eye - No, that was not it. Stab him in the neck? Too quick, too much blood, not enough of a lasting mark. She then looked to the torch, picked it up and began heating the fork. As she did, the fingers of the fork began to bend and weave into each other. The heat made it flexible enough to shape with the simplest telekinesis. She bent the head of the fork to give it the right angle and then inspected her hasty handiwork. Two and two, the teeth had twisted together in a pair of spirals meeting in a circle at the top.

The Rattataki gave it another heating to make sure it would leave the appropriate mark.

"Let me show you."

She took his hand, thumb stroking over the still healing scar as she shifted her grip on the improvised branding iron. Half closing her eyes, she let memories funnel up through her and into her hand, then she set the iron to work in the silver-haired man's still human palm. It pressed hot steel into the skin, throwing up two tails of smoke and a distinctive smell.

The memories

Spoiler

Climbing up the black steps of the dark monolithic temple on Coruscant, eager in step, knowing what glory stood ahead. Older next, kneeling before the Dark Lord as he honoured her and took her under his wing. Then, Selvaris, walking among the smouldering ruins, picking a bone from the ashes and turning it between her fingers. What next? His anger for their betrayal, taken out on other faithful servants. The shocks of pain from his flashes of anger, the mistrust. Rebellion - Loyalty. War!

Bur͘n͎͘ ţ̳̖h̬̟̲̹̖̙e̶͍̱̙m̦̥̜͓̣̜! B͏̥͕͎̼u̸r̲̱̖̺̳̯̹n̻͔̻̥̼̖ ̗͇͖̠a̢̩̩̩̙l̷̹͎̠̳l̶̯̦͖̟̰ ̜̺̗̺͓̲o̩͡f͘ ̷̮̺̭i̗͟t͔͓͚̫͍ͅ!̶̬̥ ͎̰̮̞͜Ţ̗̘̫͎r͓̣̖a͏̤̫̗̺i͍̮t̷o͞r̢s̮͔̞͚͚͇ͅ,͞ ̙̦̹͡d̝͔͉̹̗e͈̥̻̟̰̜̙c̢͇̭͙͇͈̟͕ḙ̡̤̜̭iv̯̘̟̗̖͡er̢s!̬̙͈​

​

Deserters.​

​

A dark lord dead at her feet. Ashen hand clutching the curved sabre, jaw set hard in her face. A bitter victory shared with a fellow traitor who would since call himself dark lord and rule by decree. The Sith nodding in agreement with daggers held behind their backs. Anger. Such sweltering anger about a future promised, and then scorched. An empire in flames and the torch in her hand. A future promised and a promise broken. Disarray, disappointment, disillusionment.

"Childish? Petty? Possibly. True, certainly. Now you know my grievance."

She pulled back the silverware, tossed it over the counter and into a glass of water on the other side. The bartender's refreshments. She was almost surprised to not see it ignite. Still, the steel hissed and spat as it lost its fire. She gestured to the tables.

"So, Sabbac?"

 

[Jacob Crawford]

"Well, nice to meet you Vi." Jacob said, shaking the man's hand and also taking in the state of his appearance. Pale skin, thin build, blackened teeth. All signs of dark side corruption, but additionally an indication the younger man had delved heavily into that side of the Force already. It interested Jacob, curious to know just what exactly [member="Vereshin"] had been looking for during that time.

He took a sip of his drink as he saw something in the corner of his eye. Jacob had felt the tension rising ever since [member="Darth Ophidia"] stepped off the elevator, walking a path towards one of the others situated at the bar. Shifting his attention away from Vereshin for a moment, Jacob turned to watch as the Rattataki approached [member="Reverance"] who had anticipated the woman's intent with a drink.

Jacob watched on with fascination, he could tell there was history between them although the details of it were unknown to him - just as their names were.

Unlike Vereshin, he hardly reacted when the stool was kicked from beneath Reverance. The man managing to barely keep his balance until a kick to the shoulder sent him crashing into a nearby cushioned chair. If anything it amused Jacob, witnessing something he had expected to happen with so many Sith in one place. An inevitable occurrence, but for now it didn't look like it was going to reach the levels of bloody murder - although he was fairly certain one of two was tempted.

"I've been in the temple a number of times, though I don't really study there per se." Jacob turned his attention back to Vereshin. After all the vast majority of where he learnt was from [member="Matsu Xiangu"]. "But in general my focus is towards mentalism." Again a voice pulled him away, glancing over to see [member="Aver Brand"] setting up something - her words managing to cut through the noise and grab everyone's attention. Aver. There was at least a name he could attach to the face, having overheard it earlier amongst the various greetings. Jacob noticed Sabacc was the current flavour of the evening, and it drummed up old memories. At this point any thought of his late father was the furthest thing from Jacob's mind, but even in death the man was still a pain in the arse. Only this time it was in the form of his half spawn that was currently trying to capture him.

While his vision had been focused on the upcoming card game, Jacob's hearing was still fixed to the other two. Wrath. Ophidia. Reach.

Two titles and a name was what he heard. That and an odd interest in pain from the unknown man. Jacob turned to watch when he noticed [member="Irajah Ven"] make a beeline, cutting through and at one point standing between them as if the palpable tension was non-existant to her. A somewhat amusing sight from a basic perception; if you didn't take Irajah's character into equation and just saw the differences in height. Other than that, Jacob noticed something; focused as he was, between Reverance and Irajah just as the latter began to move away. Though it was too quick and veiled to make any sense of it.

That was all brushed aside however when the man in question moved towards him, taking the moment to peel of his jacket and hang it up.

"Of course." Was Jacob's simple answer to Reverance's request. He wasn't intending to move to the card game just yet anyway, he was more intrigued at how things were going to unfold between him and Ophidia. Although with the man closer, Jacob got a good look at his Voxyn arm, and his interest in learning about him heightened even more. Coming to this party was a very good idea indeed, so many new people to get acquainted with. Though before that, he returned to his conversation with Vereshin.

"Quite, typically you find acolytes trying to kill one another trying to get attention. It's always nice to be able to just talk normally." It didn't take long for Jacob's eyes to shift back over to watch as Ophidia seemed to brand the other. They spoke words that contained hidden meaning, if he hadn't realized there was deep history between the two then he would've been completely certain of it now. He waited for a short while, whether Reverance would return for jacket immediately or not. Afterwards though, Jacob stood up from his stool carefully clutching the glass within his cybernetic hand.

"Do excuse me Vi, it appears Sabacc is calling." He gave the young man a polite nod before he walked away from the bar and over to the table where Aver had set up. There was a slight twist in Jacob's gut, looking upon something that was essentially marred in his mind. But a game of cards was a good way of getting to know people, and that was something he was intending to do tonight.

"I'm in." He said, pulling over a seat for himself and settling himself at the table, placing his drink down on it.

 

[Reverance]

Even absent her feelings or need to press upon him her sordid memories, Reverance would have felt it. Inherent in the interpretation of pain, the threshold for his pyschometry widened. With a gaze towards the woman, he was struck by the sudden epiphany that lied in the beauty of her eyes. Like molten planets against an angry and cold expression, he wondered if she truly blamed him for everything that had occurred. Shifting his view downward, he watched as the metal curled against itself beneath the pressure of the blow torch and her power.

As she grabbed his hand, the clutch was almost gentle and curious. Thumbing the scar he earned from the depths of New City, it was evident that he wouldn't need to defend himself in the near future. There was symbolism in the branding of his palm, in the way she would mark him with burning metal, but the utility would return - far different from the alternatives of a lost eye or a ruptured carotid artery. And when the metal touched and pressed in against the scars and wrinkles of his hand, he winced slightly as his view narrowed.

The smell of smoldering flesh filled his nose, drawing in the memories with an attachment to the olfactory. And while her memories flooded his vision in still frames, they did so in the foreground of the last time the Dark Lord was slain. Killed in a moment of heated debate, Reverance recalled setting his body back in the throne, before seeing it crushed to rubble by the thronebreaker. How the traitor attempted to ward off attempts by many, to kill her. Fruitless endeavor as it lead to a broken body and suicidal jump into the abyss below Coruscant. How things had changed, he thought. Where in one decade, the Lords of the One Sith would avenge the treason and in the next, they would celebrate it. All the while, [member="Darth Ophidia"] turned her gaze outward, to blame those she assumed were at the heart of the cause.

The pain was momentary for him, yet lasting for her. It spread through his hand, pinching a nerve across the small of his back, as he fought the urge to curl his fingers around the instrument. Instead, he bared his teeth and clenched his jaw - Until the moment had passed, the tool sent sailing over the bar top to land in water. The barkeeper didn't so much as move in response, tending to his other responsibilities - [member="Irajah Ven"] and [member="Matsu Xiangu"] had done a good job of hiring this particular individual.

Like a tooth that was aching, Reverance dragged middle and ringer across the branding - picking at it. The smell was passing by, replaced instead with the hints of laquered wood, fresh bar citrus, and plush leather treatment. "You have grievances, I can see that now. But I wont apologize for what I did. In my place, you would have done the same." He stated such with air of understanding. But this wasn't something he had done. It was something she had done. And besides, he had only recently apologized to @Darth Carach - and that was a relationship that was far more intimate than what was seen here."You shouldn't regret your actions. And I won't regret mine."

His attention shifted to the table and he nodded, dropping his hands. "Sabacc." Striding over, blackened hand holding his half finished drink, he sat down next to Raj and looked over to [member="Aver Brand"]. He had felt the swell of her defensive nature, even if only for a moment. But it was something that went without saying. As he sat down, he held his hand out for Raj to see the brand. "Hopefully this wont impact our playing."

Looking over to [member="Jacob Crawford"], he tapped the rim of the glass. "I'm in as well. Aver can cover my tab."

 

[Carach]

Carach watched on with amusement as [member="Aver Brand"] walked away with all the grace of a... well, that wasn't important right now.

It shouldn't have surprised him that from the two of them, only [member="Reverance"] had showed even a semblance of acknowledgement of what they had done, while Vraggles tried to ease back into things like nothing had changed. No, not a surprise at all, but it made him hover between amusement and indignation. Eventually he shrugged, finishing off his glass and then studied the occupants of the room. Amber just as intense as the whiskey roamed, before they settled once again on a figure.

Most of them wandered over to the table to play some cards, but it wouldn't be fair for Carach to join in. After all, with no ysalamiri in sight there was little to even the playing field between all of them and himself. Instead Carach pushed himself off the seat, carefully picking his way past powerful Sith Lords, before brushing past this one particular person, named [member="Aria Vale"].

"Miss Vale, some time since we last... spoke." Carach hummed softly to himself as she came into view. "We could play a card game, or I could show you something upstairs?"

He offered his smile.

Hunger had to be sated, pleasure exchanged, perhaps they could make a small start while the rest played to their heart's content in the moment.

 

[Aver Brand]

Icy blues slid across the assembled, weighing each expression, each countenance. It was here that Aver had learned to read people – the glint of eyes, the shuffling of hands, the thinning of lips. If you knew where to look, many among them wore their emotions on their sleeves, ripe for the picking.

And others were liars.

Her gaze settled on [member="Carach"] across the room. Her mouth curled at the edges as her eyes sauntered downwards along [member="Aria Vale"]’s curves. “Come on, Ladyfriend. Join us, and drag that grinning nerf herder with. You’ll have time to explore the wonders of ‘upstairs’ later.”

If the bastard could still walk after Aver was done with him, that was.

Turning to [member="Irajah Ven"], the woman continued. “Sure, we can start with Coruscant Standard. The night’s still young.” Too young to suggest Sith Strip rules right off the bat – and too many unknowns to boot.

“There is one… minor modification, though.” She lifted the emptied bottom of the suitcase, revealing another drawer below. A compact transparisteel container was set snugly inside, filled to the brim with an opalescent, viscous liquid.

And a lizardhttp://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Ysalamir.

“We’re playing with this,” the merc said as she set the cylinder atop the dealing droid – she got it special modified just for that. “No fun in a game of skill and chance when half the room can read your thoughts, is there?”

The fact that [member="Reverance"] had joined the table with a fresh burn on his palm didn’t break her stride. “I’ll cover your tab anytime, Rev.” Shifting in her chair, Aver addressed the rest of the mingling guests. “Anyone else who wants to play but hasn’t got the creds, you can buy short. I’ll lend ya the rest. If you lose… mm, we’ll think of something, won’t we?”

Of course, owing money to a Nadir crime lord perhaps wasn’t the best idea.

And of course, nobody knew Aver was a Nadir crime lord. Hair let down, a tailored suit, an easy smile… they all drew attention away from the scarred muscle forged over two decades of war. Really, she was the picture of innocence.

Reaching forward, she keyed a sequence into the screen of the nutrient dispenser, releasing adrenaline into the creature’s bloodstream. It twitched, opened its eyes—

aaaaand blank.

Just like that, the Force was gone. Sucked out of the room like slurping the marrow from a broken bone.

The droid whirred to life, doling out neat stacks of cards for every player in a matter of seconds. Chips followed soon after, stacked by value beginning with 50 at the lowest. Finally, the droid turned to Aver, its annunciator blinking.

:: Game One ::
:: Player One has Dealer Token :: The droid whirred again, rotating to Irajah.
:: Player Two. Enter your ante into the pot ::

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

 

[Vereshin]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DxjFs_dsR8​

"Oh wonderful!" Vereshin said in response to [member="Jacob Crawford"]. The area of mental techniques interested him greatly and he dabbled himself in the powers of the mind. Leaning on the top of the bar, he sipped his wine and fumbled with the dark ring on his finger. "I'm interested in mind magic myself, it is an effective area to breach when dealing with reality." He rested a hand on his leg to stop it from shaking and he shifted his glance between Jacob and the flickering lights. [member="Reverance"] shortly called Jacob over and left him alone. It would seem most Sith did not care to to talk about their craft when relaxing, something Vereshin did not understand.

"Yes, certainly." There was little time to continue the conversation before Jacob took to his heels and joined the higher ranking Sith for Sabaac. Vereshin sighed in his nerves and inhaled on his cigarette. He smiled and nodded as Jacob left and recoiled. Hopping off the stool, he sipped his wine again and caught the eyes of the two women who had not yet joined the older Sith. He approached [member="Aria Vale"] and [member="Ameli Trahir"] and offered to take the younger woman's hand.

"Hello, my lady." Almost biting his tongue, he only heard how painfully formal he sounded. Isolated since childhood in Sith temples, Vereshin had never learned basic slang or common nuance. He repressed the urge to roll his eyes at his words and merely offered Ameli a silent smile. Aria intimidated him only slightly and he bowed his head out of respect. A pause held them as glances were exchanged.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked Ameli. The musicians began to play a contemporary waltz and the higher ranking gods began their game. Vereshin maintained his posture and his eyes fluttered in anticipation.

 

[NightSister]

For a while she watched the group of Sith amidst drink and light conversation. She'd met [member="Reverance"] and [member="Aver Brand"] both before, but she didn't know them how the others did, would never have understood the reasons behind the sudden tensions rolling from the group like a wave without being told the story. But it was more than entertaining to watch all the same.

Then a smile played across her lips as a familiar voice reached her ears.

Aria turned around and met Carach's gaze, eyebrows lifted. It had been a while since she'd last seen the Sith Lord, but she wasn't in the least bit surprised to see him frequenting the party.

Not that it wasn't interesting to speak with him again.

"Some time indeed," she agreed quietly, amused.

A card game, or something upstairs. With or without ysalamiri she might've done well enough at cards (not that she could be expected to be happy about somebody bringing an ysalamir to the Black Feather of all things) but the latter was naturally more fun.

Her smile widened, just shy of a smirk; tapered amber eyes glinted with challenge. She got to her feet, gaze roaming up and down @Carach fleetingly before meeting his again.

"Lead the way."

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Perhaps it was not regret she felt, not vengeance either. Yet, she felt vindicated. The burden had lightened when she had shared some of what she had done. Ought she feel regret? No, she supposed he was right. She ought not regret, nor should he. Success or death: She could not lose that. There was a new day, a new dawn for the Sith - And the sheep needed a dog to shepherd them.

All she gave Reverance in reply was a solemn nod. A shift in presence saying it all more accurate than words ever could.

Pain speaks volumes.

She gestured for the bartender to give her another of what Reverance had offered her, and ventured to join the table at last. As Ophidia put her hand on the chair to pull it out from the table, she felt the warp of the Force. Unprepared as she was, she had to catch herself on the back of the chair. She sat down gingerly and put her hands on the table while exhaling and looking at each of the players in turn.

Sabacc without the Force - Ophidia's chances lowered drastically, but she was content to continue.

Borrowing the buy-in was a tempting offer. Not because the Rattataki was lacking in credit, but because there was just so much that could go wrong. Still, she chose to pay for herself.

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Reverance"] | [member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Jacob Crawford"] | [member="Aria Vale"] | [member="Vereshin"] | [member="Cerbera"] | [member="Darth Imperia"] [member="Ameli Trahir"] | [member="Carach"] | [member="Vaylin"]​

I just wanted to see how many characters I could tag.​

 

[Carach]

A bemused glance brushed past Aria for a moment to study Aver, before winking.

"The ladyfriend seems to have made her choice, miss Brand." Already his hand was in hers, softly tugging her along as he turned around and presumably walked away with her towards the staircase. "Do go gentle on our friends, there is no need to completely clean them out yet."

With that heavy footsteps brought both of the Sith to the upstairs.

Irajah had outdone herself here; large spacious hall melding into several smaller rooms and one large one. The soft interior, silk fabric, cushions and husk candle smoke burning spoke of intention. "You have grown more powerful since we last met," the Sith Lord responded before pulling her in and against.

"Why don't you show me just how much reach you have, miss Vale?"

Weight mixed next as the Force brushed against, melding, mixing and heightening sensations past their breaking point.

[member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Aria Vale"] | @Everyone else​

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah tilted her head slightly as [member="Reverance"] offered his hand. Reaching out, she ran a single nail down from the tip of his middle finger to wrist, from unmarred flesh through the burn and back to solid flesh again. The tip of her finger paused on his pulse for a pair of heartbeats before withdrawing again.

"Only if you don't let it heal properly, or intend to work the more difficult parts," she murmured. "Can't let it heal stiff."

Bringing her drink to her lips, she took the first sip. The flavors, bitter and sweet, played across her tongue. She could pull caramelized citrus and torched rosemary from the flavor profile, but the rest was lost in the mixologist's art. She held it in her mouth for a moment before letting it drain down, the sting and smoke finding the crevasses before swallowing.

In truth, it was like tasting all of those things for the first time. While her mind could call up the names, identify the flavors, this tongue had never before tasted them. Tiny slivers of colour in the grey.

She arched an eyebrow at [member="Aver Brand"]. The null of the Force washed over them all, heavy and uncomfortable.

There was a time when that simple act would have brought an audible hiss from the woman, but here and now it was merely a small murmur of surprise.

The bartender looked up from his place, frowning.

"Miss Ven? Yslamiri are not permitting in the Black Feather normally.""

She shrugged, not looking back at him.

Honestly, Irajah didn't care one way or the other. After all, she was probably going to lose anyway. But others.... well, she could not promise how their reaction would go. And as had already been exhibited with Rev and [member="Darth Ophidia"] a moment ago, beyond suggestion of a change of venue, Irajah had no interest in policing the activities of her guests.

She reached over, keying in her buy in for the game.

In honestly, Raj had only played Sabacc a handful of times. The one time she'd won had probably been a fluke. She wasn't entirely certain what the point was, really, beyond winning something that had very little value to her. But it was something other people were intent and interested in, and that was enough to make her pick up her cards and study them like she had *any* idea what she was doing.

She scooted a 50 credit chit into the center, conservative.

 

[Jacob Crawford]

Jacob watched in silence as the game was set up, fingers lightly grasping around his drink as liquid within swirled around. His focus was on those around the table, coming to join or simply moving past. He glanced over towards [member="Carach"] and [member="Aria Vale"], a great deal of reciprocated hunger bouncing between the two Sith. Veiled words shared that did nothing to hide the meaning if someone listened in.

Then [member="Darth Ophidia"] and [member="Reverance"] joined them at the table, seemingly having settled their dispute for the time being. The latter of the two pausing momentarily to discuss his newest scar with [member="Irajah Ven"].

It was interesting, to see the various threads of familiarity that connected one to another. Some were thin, stained by time and strife; others held taut through pain. There was no detail to them, just the observation that they existed.

Jacob did not amuse the idea of taking Aver's offer, knowing well enough it wasn't a good idea. Most especially when it was from someone you barely knew. And even then, it depended on the person in question. You'd be effectively shoving an arm into the maws of a rancor, waiting for it to bite it off. He'd already made one such transaction not long ago, and that would still loom over him until the day came she ever decided to collect.

His his flickered over to [member="Cerbera"] for a moment.

Jacob took a sip of his drink finally, just as Aver brought her equalizer into play. It was a good thing the liquid had washed down his throat before the Ysalamiri awoken, otherwise he would've also choked on it. He breathed in sharply, almost like a gasp as he felt the creature's ability expand out around everyone at the table, dulling any attempt to call on the Force to nothing.

He felt the talons of a beast scratching and crawling at the edges. Slithers of something weaving between the cracks and around fragments, in search of the madness it knew was there. Though in Jacob's case, medtiation prior kept that very thing from becoming reality. There was no need to mar the aesthetics of the Black Feather like he already started at the top of The Asylum.

:: Player Three. Enter your ante into the pot :: Jacob didn't hesistate as he stretched his cybernetic arm over and submitted his buy-in. His eyes locking on [member="Aver Brand"] as he pulled back.

"That's a bold move, bringing a Ysalamiri here." Jacob picked up his glass and took a sip. "To ensure a fair game, sure that's very sound. But is it worth it, considering the attendance this evening?" He didn't know the details of everyone else, but it at the least disgruntled several others. Jacob counted himself as one of them, especially so if the creature remained in play for the entire night. "Just don't be surprised if the little lizard is skewered by the night's end." With a flick of his wrist, Jacob slid a credit chip worth 100 into the middle.

 

[Reverance]

He’d like to say he was surprised that [member="Carach"] was departing upstairs with [member="Aria Vale"] on his arm. But he wasn’t. And he wasn’t entirely envious either, as the night was young. As far as he could tell, things would lead to whatever they would lead to on a natural path. The gravity and urging was there, it was simply a matter of time before the floor fell out.

Instead of focusing on that or would could be, bolstered by a drink in hand, he looked towards [member="Irajah Ven"] as her nail dragged across wound and unmarred flesh alike. Beneath the burn, the scar lingered from their time in the underground of New City. But even with everything that had happened, she still knew just the way to poke and prod – all with the hint of care in the background. Lingering somewhere beneath searching and playful pools of hazel, he looked for an offer to do both harm and good. “I’m not one for the healing process…” He stated slowly, looking at the palm of his hand before retracting it and looking towards the table.

With the ysalamir kicking on, he looked over towards [member="Aver Brand"] and smirked, not sure if he shared the same concerns as [member="Jacob Crawford"]. “Precautions for a game like this? You’d think we didn’t trust one another.” A room full of people like this, it was likely a safe bet. Though he had his own assumptions about how this game would go. “Standard sabacc seems fine…for now.”

Cradling the drink in hand, he rattled the ice as he nodded and keyed in his bet. Chipping into the ante, he also indicated to the machine that his ante bet could be assumed through the progression of the game.

“Any special house rules?” He slid his chip forward, not really caring about the notions of losing money.

 

[NightSister]

Hand laced with his, she followed the Sith Lord as he moved for the staircase. Eyes briefly flickered, watching Aver and Carach with wordless amusement, before she moved with the latter Sith, along and up the set of stairs to the Black Feather's higher floor.

The upstairs suite they wound up in was impressive - large, tastefully furnished - but the grandeur of the room's interior was, for now, faded and uninteresting, a backdrop. Her attention was quite elsewhere.

All the sudden, the air thickened.

She turned to face him properly just as he brought them closer together, heat and pressure and hunger tangled into the sensation of skin and fabric before that pressure pushed her backwards. Her back arched as she pressed against the wall and breath grew heavier as the rise-and-fall of her chest quickened. Lips curled in smiling anticipation; burning gaze locked with his, amber and amber.

"You'd be surprised," she murmured low in her throat, face close to his.

| [member="Carach"] |​

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Ophidia watched their bets and banter while paying her buy-in, taking measure of the players and their relations. Even without the Force, she was a perceptive one. The bubble of denial made her less energetic than she would like, but she would deal with it. She watched closely as Irajah touched Reverance's hand, where Ophidia had branded him. There was a tenderness to Irajah that brought hunger to Ophidia's mouth. She swallowed it for the moment, but did not forget.

"What is wrong?" She looked at [member="Jacob Crawford"] , a shrewdness in her eye. "Afraid of losing?"

Ophidia looked at her cards, her expression an opaque smirk. She traced a finger over her credit chips and slid 100 into the middle, eyes sliding over to [member="Aver Brand"] as she did.

"The night is still young, so let's play."

Her silence was compliance when it came to the choice of rules. Still, she would want to pick up on house rules that may be implied. The readiness of the game made her think that they would not be playing Coruscanti Standard all night. If anything, this was a trial period, a test before the real fun began.

Not that the evening was dull, quite on the contrary; how many parties started with a branding?

Breaking her line of thought, Ophidia took a sip from her glass. Now that her rage had subsided into something else, she could fully appreciate the flavour of her drink. It was sharp, -like a serrated blade running over her tongue- but not smokey. In its wake, it left a brief numbness that she could only guess would build as the night went further.

[member="Irajah Ven"] [member="Reverance"]

 

[Aver Brand]

At her urging gesture, a plate laden with tumblers of whiskey arrived – after leaning back to whisper in his ear, the bartender returned with a ripe Mandalorian orange in hand, proffered to [member="Reverance"] alone. Aver produced a black wooden box from her suitcase and placed it beyond her stacks of chips as others observed their hands.

“If any of you smoke – please, feel free,” she murmured into the intense silence gathering above the table. The merc partook herself, picking a hand-rolled Kubaz cigarra from the set of eight. The rashallo used for the wrapper imparted a deep flavor as well as giving a light green tint to the robusto that melded well with the carababba and havao bunch in the middle.

:: Shifting phase ::

And so it went. Cards shifted, good hands came and went. Luck was a harsh mistress in this game, and Aver made it her business to curb her influence over her play. In practical terms – Aver cheatedhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/112094-nadir-p-series-cards/.

“Let’s call it a warm-up game,” the merc smirked at her lover through the cloud of blue smoke. “I have a few things in mind for later… if the table will be amenable, naturally.”

It’s why the alcohol flowed so freely, and the intoxicating plumes wafted from the cigarra between her teeth – nothing quite so entertaining like Sith Lords with lowered inhibitions.

“I won’t be,” she replied to [member="Jacob Crawford"]. “Yorick’s seen enough shet to last him twenty lizard lifetimes. He won't mind.” It was still the same ysalamiri they’d play sabacc with back in the Dark Temple on Coruscant, where many more Sith were in attendance. Reverance might recognize it by the scar down the middle of its back – courtesy of Vornskr in a defeated fit of rage – and if [member="Matsu Xiangu"] or [member="Carach"] were there, they could as well.

[member="Darth Ophidia"] had risen through the ranks of the One Sith when their short-lived band had already fallen apart through death and circumstance. Yorick had spent those days sleeping and eating in his nutritional frame on the Imperious.

But those were idle fancies of a life buried under leagues of lava.

Her blue eyes lingered on the assassin a moment longer before she turned them to [member="Irajah Ven"], a hint of a smile to the ice. “Playing it safe, are we?”

 

[Kuzo]

That offer, to ride the line between harm and good, was there in the quirk of an eyebrow, the slow withdrawl of nail from the burn on his palm. She looked away from [member="Reverance"] to focus on her cards.

A small frown flickered. It was an astonishing constellation of crap. She didn't need to be a professional sabacc player to know that she'd have to be very, very lucky to turn it into anything.

She sipped thoughtfully on the drink, savoring the bitter and herbal down to the bottom as play continued. The barest motion of a hand and the bartender brought her something else, sweeter and thicker, honey and heat in a glass. Most around the table took a hand or two, and even she took one (by the skin of her teeth at the last offer of new cards), and colourful chits changed hands and grew in piles of varying heights in front of the other players.

"Can you blame me?" She asked, indicating her rapidly shrinking pile of chips.

"I'm not particularly good at Sabacc, in case you hadn't noticed."

There was a ghost of a smile, glancing at [member="Aver Brand"] out of the corner of her eye. Despite that admission, she didn't stop playing, didn't stop drinking (though she passed on the smokes being sent around the table), relaxing by increments and empty glasses. She still wasn't entirely certain the *point*, but just as clearly it had her attention enough to not wander off.

[member="Darth Ophidia"] [member="Jacob Crawford"]