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Private Echoes: Plucking the Red String

Daughter of Shadows
Enroute to Indupar
Aboard the Mecetti yacht 'Evening Star'

No matter how much she knew she could take care of herself, even if her ailing Lord Father knew it, let alone her esteemed progenitor, she was always given accompaniments. Legs crossed, an appropriately long skirt draping past her knees, and her head tilted against the splay of her fingers from an elbow on the chair's armrest, she read an update from Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera Lady Pawla Arsec of Grindera and the goings-on with her duties, and errata of a more personal nature. Both daughters of Mecetti's houses, they had more or less grown up together when Pawla came, as many of the houses' youths did, to Mecetti for their formative years of mentorship, the girls' paths starting to diverge to a significant degree when they attended separate institutions for their higher learning; of those that called themselves friend to the Mecetti heiress, Pawla was more genuine than most, and a more interesting (and intelligent) conversationalist by far. All in all, the correspondence was plenty welcome, though the mild irritation she sought to distract herself from still made itself faintly apparent from the delicate knit of her brow, and the minute purse of her lips.

"I know that look," came the idle musing of Bostri, but given the years, it was obvious he would, "my lady."

No matter how much she was used to the ever-present company, no matter how much she adored and respected the man who was her shadow, she bristled against it. It had little to do with being alone - though solitude, when won, was never squandered - but everything to do with independence, with her own self-determination. Her desire to make decisions about her life's path. She felt terribly about the continuing condition of her Lord Father, and fretted some about the potential of loss, but... a not-insignificant part of her psyche dwelled on what his absence could mean for her, on both sides of the coin. She blinked, her fire-maned head tilting just enough upward to look through lashes at the not so young assassin and guard, a father to her in his own ways. Her full lips curled, barely, but pleasantly.

"The same dance as always, Bostri," she lowered the datapad, and lifted her head more, her perched arm falling into her lap, "but I am ever thankful that it has been you doing this expected, unending waltz with me. I couldn't have asked for a better shadow."

A sheen crossed his eyes, a warmth shaded into his expression at the honest praise. The ship intercom gave a soft buzz - the co-pilot informing of their impending drop out of hyperspace, the imminent event clearing the dregs of her seemingly futile mood at her eternal circumstance, due to the reason for the trip: an invitation from a more recent acquaintance, one Xander Blackmoore Xander Blackmoore , where after her initial meeting of the royal, she left with none of the expected dullery she came with, and a whole host of musings and wonderings about that meeting, including tangents of why... but the Lord Emeritus didn't show his hand, and it was hard to say if there was anything to show. Branching off of this, a new interest in the records of her predecessors revealed hardly anything unexpected, yet more questions, and subsequent meetings through yet more of the same predictable high society events as the first one didn't shed any further light - she had to wonder if this invitation had anything to do with what must have been her increasingly apparent curiosity. Rising from her seat, 'pad in one hand, the other tucking her now somewhat loosened hair back into place, she quelled the wild blossoming of her thoughts with one or two long, slow breaths.

"Lovely as ever, my lady."

She blew out a light, bemused sigh.

"I will go freshen up, then," Sigrid's gaze skirted to the dozing form of one of Bostri's most recent acolytes, whose sleep had doubtless been stolen from him by anxiety over this trip. They almost always had nerves to deal with on their first assignments, and just as much burning desire to prove themselves, "and wake Amos. It's not often that an acolyte is party to a visit to a monarch - I wouldn't want him to miss it."

Even if they would not be accompanying her once she was within the King's protection, visits to other worlds were always a treat, with the expectation to carry themselves properly. Bostri tipped his head in acceptance of her direction, and with that, she whisked away to fix her hair and straighten herself out, speculating on what she might have to say in response to her friend after this....


Arrival - Indupar


The Evening Star settled, landing smooth in its assigned place at the separate private dock of the palace's primary occupant, with Sigrid and her traveling party awaiting the lowering of the ramp, in the same way as they had done countless times - a brief glance at Amos found the younger man tense while trying not to look it. A light nip at the inner edge of her bottom lip was all she need to temper her amusement at the acolyte; it wouldn't be kind to laugh, but he was going to make himself sore like that, and a sore-bodied acolyte was only so much less of a concern than one who simply didn't care. A knowing glance at Bostri, her eyes flicking to Amos, then back to Bostri, said enough. His voice came low, to assuage her concern.

"Don't worry yourself, my lady - he'll sort himself out in time."

Her lips pursed briefly, and a short nod prefaced the return of her attention to the now-lowering ramp. They always did, adapting to each increase in responsibility, one way or another, within reason.

"Well, then... I trust you will all try to enjoy yourselves, but we are all representatives of our house; I have faith you will uphold our expectations well."

That wasn't a statement, not that Bostri needed the words. No, he would be making sure of it when it came to the rest of them. The need for disciplinary action was rare, and that spoke considerably to Bostri's skill as a leader and mentor.

"Yes, my lady."

Their words in almost complete unison. She smiled, and began descending the ramp once it settled, her retinue falling in with her, to see her delivered into the care of another...
Darth Vizios
TAG: Sigrid Adair Sigrid Adair

Someone had been digging into history that had been long forgotten by many. There seemed to be curiosity around people and events Xander had been connected to, intimately. It did not take him long to determine the source of the intrusions into his past, and the answer only served to amuse him. Sigrid Adair Sigrid Adair was quite the young woman that reminded him too much of his late wife Dangereuse Von Balis. There were certain traits and qualities which made the monarch quite fascinated with the young woman, enough so that he would indulge her curiosities.​
Maybe she would figure it out at some point, but the deeper the woman searched, the more information Xander would allow to be leaked. It was just enough to lead her to the ultimate conclusion that someone did not want her digging around, or someone might have known she was. Finally an invitation was sent for her to join him at the palace on Indupar. It had not been his ancestral home, that was on Ec Pand. The King had made many maneuvers, most of them bloody, to secure the throne which he occupied then, and even more to reclaim the seat now. He wondered if the truth would be off-putting to the redhead, but only time would bring the answer to that question.​
He had been finishing a cup of tea when the word came the yacht carrying his guest and her party had arrived. It seemed she would not be traveling alone, part of the Sith had wished she would have been even though he understood why she was not. A slight smirk pulled at his lips thinking about how young he had been when he killed his father and left home without anyone other than the woman that would become his master. The Kiffar had proven to be just what Xander needed to temper his youth, but the red monster he had befriended, and even loved pulled something else out in him that he did not know was there.​
Xander loved combat, and because of Kazrah he learned he loved to kill.​
A wave of his hand would indicate to his servants that the table needed to be cleared and a small brunch set out. He did not know how long it had been since his guests ate, and a good host would certainly provide refreshments of some kind. Perhaps he was also showing of a little bit, but the monarch knew there would be some expectations the young noble would have in regards to the hospitality shown to someone of her status. As a noble himself, it would be expected that Xander would know. What would be a surprise perhaps would be certain delicacies of Tapani origin would be found on the table.​
The sound of his steps were muffled by the engines as the ship landed at the agreed location. Xander wore a bright smile on his face as the woman came into view, and could not help but chuckle at the awkwardness of one of her party. He seemed young and still unpolished. There would have been a time Xander would have found it unacceptable, and insult, but Chiara Viren Chiara Viren had too much influence on him as of late. Darth Vizios was less prominent in his character and nature than the young seer and king that was Xander Blackmoore.​
"My lady," Xander said as he bowed in greeting. "I hope your trip was uneventful. Might I entice you to indulge in a small brunch? You must need a moment to refresh and gather yourself before rushing into the reasons for which you were invited. Come," he motioned toward the palace, "and enjoy some of Indupar's fine hospitality before our trip to the archives."
Daughter of Shadows
TAG: Xander Blackmoore Xander Blackmoore

AT the bottom of the ramp, she stopped to answer his bow with a graceful curtsey, the flow and precision of the movement drilled into her when she was but a child, the realms of order and poise becoming greater in her life than the innocent tortures she and her twin would subject each other to, her being older, and lording that fact over him. Such behaviour that was stamped out, if not turned into something more refined, and clever.

"Your grace," she replied, coming to her full stature once again, folding her hands in front of her, "Yes, I do find myself a touch famished..." she turned her head in a brief aside to her traveling companions, hazel eyes in particular landing on the greying man ever at her heel, "...I will call when I have need of you."

Bostri tipped his head, "Yes, my lady," and motioned for Amos to follow as he stepped off, approached the wall, and vaulted over it, taking the shortest route to the street below, with Amos following suit a moment or two later. Then, turning her gaze to the King, she smiled with just a touch of warmth - they were alone, and this was when the best conversations occurred, away from many eyes, ears, and pretence. Sigrid moved towards him, skirt swishing with her paces, and once alongside him, looped a pale, bare arm through one of his own, resting her other hand alongside it on his forearm. She looked up into his face, the seven inches difference between them making this... necessary.

"I do hope you haven't been too bored without my company..." this wasn't to say she was full of herself, but far be it for her to hold her tongue and not tease, "...shall we, then?"