Private Dumplings Under Chandeliers

[Darth Virelia]

"Really going to give this a chance?"

Tags - Zee Caromed




Virelia sat on a curved obsidian bench built into the rear bulkhead of the vessel, her legs crossed with regal ease, motionless except for the slow, deliberate rise and fall of her breath.

Wrapped in Tyrant's Embrace, she did not appear seated so much as enthroned. The armor moved with her breath, subtle pulses of violet light shimmering through the crystalline node at her chest—alive, as if it too awaited direction. The six insectile eyes of her mask cast a faint glow against the shuttle walls, eerie and elegant, watching every screen and reflection with languid, inhuman patience.

The interior...

Clean black lines framed soft underlighting in hues of plum and indigo. A narrow wine shelf extended from the side wall, recessed behind a polished transparisteel case, stocked only with selections older than most planets. A velvet-lined console tray sat folded open beside her, holding a decanter of dark fruit brandy, a single curved glass, and a hand-written note from a sommelier on Polis Massa who'd once sworn an oath never to pour for Sith.

He'd poured for her. Under the thread of gunpoint.

To be completely fair, she was drunk.

She had been sitting there for exactly seven minutes and twelve seconds. She waited. And while she waited, she imagined.

Would he come armed again, just in case? Of course. Brave men didn't stop preparing just because they'd survived once. Would he dress up? Would he fidget? Would he blush if she offered wine? Or would he keep that quiet, measured calm that made him so damn interesting to her?

The thought made her smile—just slightly, with a kind of anticipation.

She had not removed her helm. There was a kind of performance in waiting masked. A test. A temptation. What kind of man arrives to a rendezvous with a creature like this and dares to treat her like a woman?

Her voice—when she finally spoke, softly into the shuttle's internal comms—was low and curved, like silk slipping off a blade.

"Open the ramp. Let him choose the direction."

The ship hissed in response, and a slow, patient stream of city-smog air curled inward through the extending boarding ramp. Polis-lit shadows cast bars of neon across her armor. She made no move to rise.

Not yet.

 

[Zee Caromed]

Zee was, to a casual observer, not much of a Mandalorian. Anyone who thought that hadn't seen him prepare for an event where he didn't know or have control of all of the variables in play, though. He'd sworn the Resol'nare, he tended to his duties and obligations as he understood them. He was a child of both of his parents - the Witchknight juggernaut as well as the ever-armored Alor of Caromed. As that latter figure would have insisted (and factually had herself), Zalke prepared for his date as thuroughly as he would going into battle.

Was the event on her ship or were they expected to go elsewhere? He'd assumed Virelia had a plan, but if not he'd made reservations at the finest restaurant in the Talinn district.
Would he need to be just as able to defend himself as he'd had before? Of course he would. He had less space to stash weapons, though. So he kept his lightsaber in a clutch and openly wore his beskar'ika at his hip.
How did you serve while also tending the constraints of the Six Actions? His clan crest painted expertly on his nails, aforementioned beskar'ika, and his trusty Lotek'k jacket. And, of course, the fetching meditation crystal necklace Braze had so thoughtfully gotten for him. He'd done the nails himself, but he'd gotten a professional for this hair and makeup for once.

Keeping in mind that Darth Virelia had expressed a disdain for the working-class aesthetics that Zee normally surrounded himself with, he had dressed appropriately and arrived chauffeured by armored luxury speeder. After all, Zalke was one of the two children of the head of his clan, and the only one to bear the clan's name - his pedigree was without question, and it honored his family to display their wealth and influence from time to time.

Zee stepped out of the speeder once the door had been opened for him. Wearing a sleek designer evening dress he'd comissioned a few weeks ago under his lotek'k jacket, the svelte nurse took the extended ramp as an invitation aboard and acted accordingly. Strappy heels clicking, he ascended fearlessly into the belly of Virelia's ship.

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