Faction Eternal Night [ CIS & EE ]

[Ascendant Muse]

Grjótharður, Vengard

Many years ago...

The name Eternal was tied to the throne of one Kainan Wolfe. From the bosom of the Ancient Eye to the embrace of the Confederacy did he lead his people across the cosmos. Theirs was a different way. One not bound to the perpetual squabble of light against darkness. At one point, their fate was bound to that of the southern systems. They stood together as a nation which housed a nation. Yet, schism drove them apart and the Eternal stood alone.

Its throne was established in the Unknown Regions. And from this tenacity did their nation truly take root. Hundreds of systems flocked to their banner. Hundreds more were made to bow. It was a sad truth that the first Eternal monarch would not live to see its fruition. As his domain grew, tragedy befell the Empire. Its liege was lost - and in his place, there was a vacuum of might. Who among the Eternal could prove mighty enough, wise enough, and resolute enough to stand where Wolfe had?

Her Majesty, Ingrid L'lerim .

For six momentous years, she guided the Eternal down the narrow path. They fought many battles far from their borders - but the most awe-inspiring was their devotion to address the Bryn'adul threat. When a culture of madness and devastation threatened the cosmos, the Eternal sharpened their blades and landed the final blow. Their victory allowed for many worlds to finally know peace. Their battle finally avenged untold trillions of deaths.

This was cause enough to celebrate. And therefore, on the anniversary of Her Majesty's ascension to Empress, the Eternal did rejoice. They reached out to their ally - the Southern Systems - to share in their triumph. Together, there was progress made against the beasts. And together they still stood. The nation which once looked to the Eternal as their own flesh and blood eagerly accepted. And for the first time in Her reign, Kalidan would play host to the Confederates.

Her residence at Vengard was the site of the evening. There would be food, drink, and joy aplenty.

Long live the Empress!

Long live the Alliance!

Spoiler: PLACES OF INTEREST

Otherwise known as the Ruling Hall, the Ballroom is the beating heart of the evening's festivities. Live music flows from the pristine stages, whilst Eternal and Confederates alike grace the dance floor. Fine drink and exceptional cuisine flow like a river.​

The Inside Garden is a vast, evergreen space. Her majesty has carefully selected unique flowers, rare flora, and even some adorable critters to adorn this space. For the night's events, the Garden has been opened as another social option for those with two left feet.

The Observatory affords the greatest views of Vengard, Kalidan, and the heavens above. Featuring a plethora of viewing equipment, the Observatory is a haven for those seeking a quiet place amidst the festivities.

Note: Guests will only have access to the Palace via the Hangars. The Palace is heavily and carefully guarded - therefore, only the below mentioned areas are accessible.​

Spoiler: Tag

Rann Thress
Taiia Locke
Sabine Delacroix
Diocletian Kahmen’’a
Gerwald Lechner
Oleander Webb
Kyyrk
Draelos
Shuklaar Kyrdol
Millu Lee
Srina Talon
Gianna Aegis
Naedira Darcrath
Darth Elyria
Seraphina Corvinus
Alessandra Creed
@Dr. Kitter Bitters
Jason Breaker
BX-4323
Tarsus Kiyan
Jhira Mereel
Verin Oldo
Hester Shedo
Donne Toulemonde
Tawnita Wren
Pravus Cruento
Felix
Lunara Azure
John Locke
Kitter Bitters
Holly Starstorm
A ARS VAMI
Kristyl Arenais
Vyse de Valorous
Alina Tremiru
@Goozer Lurg
Caedyn Arenais
Kristyl Arenais
Luca Donskoi
Pravus Cruento
Valeria de la Vallée
Kristyl Arenais
Caedyn Arenais
Subject 73 Red
TE-236
Subject 82 Snow
Subject 648 Slipknot
Cordelia Malkavian
Felix Aquila
Amelia von Sorenn
Vanya Aklin
Ingrid L'lerim

​

 

[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group
Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Objective I.: Try to having fun
Location: Grjótharður, Vengard, Kalidan
Equipment: Dress / Dress || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Darth Metus | Open

[ Waltz ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Another ball, though it was now completely different from the previous ones. Not in the sense that the CIS came to visit. Rather, in the sense that it involved some inconvenience. Ingrid was always very careful not to reveal anything from her private life. And now she was forced to let a lot of strangers into her home. STRATCOM insisted that they need good PR. Especially that this is also why she has worked in recent years.

The CIS; it was still quite interesting to her. Once a home for the woman, their loyalty was theirs. Then came Tacitus and founded and established the Eternal Empire. After all this, the later Empress, like the clans and companies, came under the rule of the Eternal Empire. She served both sides for a time, but eventually, following her people, she chose the Eternal Empire. In time Ingrid became the right hand of the former emperor, his confidant, heir, and then the new ruler. She brought a golden age for the Eternal Empire and they began to open up to other states as well.

So they became alliances with the CIS again and found new friends in the Ashlan Crusade while negotiating with the Silver Jedi, and their former allies, the Sith Empire, became their enemy. The Eternal Empire destroyed Bryn'adûl and played a key role in defeating Omni. Ingrid still didn’t consider the EE as influential as the NIO or GA were, but they were getting stronger and evolving.

And she was here today, receiving in her own home countless Eternal Imperial persons and CIS envoys. She was in the ballroom before anyone had arrived. She watched human-looking droids as they worked…

The last meeting and contract wasn’t exactly pleasant, and someone even betrayed her that day. A lot of time has passed for the woman since then, and because of her recent events, she was even ready to give Darth Metus what the man asked for. The man whose daughter killed the Empress's husband and then the woman also killed the man's daughter. Eye for eye, as required by the law of the clans. Ingrid didn't hate Runi, she felt nothing for the woman, it was just a duty.

Old wounds which never heal… This was perhaps true of the wounds between the two factions as well.

In one thing, however, she was sure Srina Talon was no longer able to inflict further wounds with her toxic words. It was a long time ago for Ingrid when the other woman was able to do that. Never again.

Meanwhile, MANIAC indicated that the first guests had arrived. All this has been going on for a long time, hours, since then Ingrid has mainly greeted the guests and performed the duties of the host…

 

[Rath Nihro]

There wasn't much that could be done from Rath's part as he knew what this ball meant for these people. It was to signify their collaborated victory that ultimately avenged and saved more lives than Rath cared to count. However, he knew that he must return to the Eternal Empire. For the journey that Rath set out was completed, and while Cularin was no longer being drained of life. Rath still felt the Force churning within him as if some unseen entity was constantly attempting to rip his body into pieces.


Yet he managed to keep such a thing contained within his body as he used the Force near constantly over minor things. Whether it was the sense, smell, or even something insignificant as dampening the sound of his steps to silence. It was all he could do in a subtle manner to keep a lid on it. Yet no matter how much he used the Force, if Rath let go for even a moment, the amount of energy gradually grew back over time. Even those who weren't sensitive to the Force or who hasn't trained with their sense felt uncomfortable with his presence. Like there was some unseen shadow radiating menace on a passive level, and he couldn't even suppress it either. Rath attempted more than once to keep his presence hidden, but ever since he drained the Force from the artifact that his previous master used Rath was unable to hide himself from the Force.


A troublesome outcome, but one that Rath was growing accustomed to. He came to the ball dressed in a formal suit and tie. Nothing flashy aside from the fact that his coloration was mostly black with a red tie. Of course Rath didn't own much formal clothing as he often doesn't attend any of these events. Most of the time he was off-world participating in a mission, or even at home working on some project. However, Rath felt like this was a special occasion. For it would also give him an opportunity to meet with some of their allies. Granted, Rath didn't have any love or connection with other factions; for he only served the Eternal Empire and the Wardens.


He was one of many to approach the main entrance to the palace, and he formally greets Ingrid L'lerim with a bow. The dark power that seemingly swelled within his body had long corrupted the color of his eyes into a striking yellow. Almost akin to gold under the correct lighting.


"My Lord, it is a pleasure to be in your presence once again. I trust all is well?" Much to his credit, Rath actually practiced a bit with formal speech to some degree. For he always was a bit harsh with his words or even hostile in the past. Of course the former soldier straightened himself, but in truth he didn't expect anything more than small talk would be exchanged to him. Under this type of society, Rath didn't exist as he wasn't a noble nor was he military under the public eye. For despite his absence from the Empire, Rath was still and always will be a Warden of the Shroud member.

 

[Diocletian Kahmen’’a]

Location: Grjótharður, Vengard, Kalidan
Objective: Be social
Wearing: Link
Tags: Open

​

Diocletian hated parties. So, how did he end up here? The fact that he was invited helped, no one usually did. He could never understand why. At least the Rand related flashbacks had stopped, well for today at least, it wasn't fun dreaming of lasers or Zombies made of bones. He looked at himself in the mirror, he had a formal evening suit on, and the was very hastily tied and the collar is scrunched up. He tried but ties remain difficult things, them and Sabacc.

He muttered obscenities at his reflection but ultimately decided to save his breath on trying to fix anything. He had wanted to wear his full armour, but he was told it wasn't a battleground and, to be social and dressed for once, Diocletian rolled his eye and gave a derisive snort at that but agreed anyway because he was already here.

The soft music drifted across the room and the dancers flitted across the dance floor like butterflies. Diocletian hated dancing; it was a waste of time in his books. Fighting is far more up his alley, a good old school punch up. He grabbed a glass from one of the attendants and elbowed his way through the crowds. Not his fault they were too slow to move for him. He had given a poor Rodian a shoulder check when he idled too long in the Ubese's way.

He even idly wondered if Tovald would show up, seeing as his brother was far more sociable than he was by far. Or any recognisable faces he could pick out from the many faces in the vast extravagant room.

 

[Imperia von Sorenn]

W A L L F L O W E R​

Objective: Prop up the Wall
Location: Grjótharður, Vengard, Kalidan
Attire: Dress

Events such as these weren't something that Imperia was accustomed to attending; even after her duration as a Viceroy, though she felt that was something that would soon come to an end, she just wasn't sure if that was the right course for her. After all, she'd only settled into the position in an attempt to impress her mother and older sister - never once knowing that she needn't impress either of them, they were proud all the same. Truth be told, she had also fallen into the position because her companion had also disappeared off into the unknown. The young woman remembered her still, very fondly at that, including their trip to that secluded waterfall - and all the what-ifs and could have been. She still smiled at that memory, even as she lightly assisted in ensuring that the wall of the ballroom would remain standing as her back pressed against the cool facade. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she peered down into her drink, lightly swirling the red liquid in the crystalline vessel before she took another sip - her hand coming up as she politely rejected an offer to dance.

She had wanted to be alone, and even now, attending this function was more out of a social nicety and to keep up her appearance as a Viceroy of the Confederacy more than any real desire to be there in the first place. It was what caused her mind to wander once more as she thought back to that little waterfall off in the corner of the galaxy where she had first met the young woman that had made her own little heart skip a beat. The memories alone were enough to cause the young woman to blush, her pointed ears beginning to turn red; she carefully ran her fingers through her hair, freeing the messy tresses of blonde hair to cascade down over her shoulders to hide her ears away. Even now she was still protective of her ears, often preferring to keep them hidden, or hiding them when such an occasion had brought up some tantalizing thought or image that would cause her to blush.

Pushing those thoughts back down, she brought her drink back to her lips, taking a long sip before noticing that the glass was empty. A small huffing noise slipped free as she set the glass down - having forgotten to bring more of the drink, she would have to survive this little gathering without the preferred drink of her species - which would only make the evening all the more unbearable in her mind. She was very much like her mother in that way, accustomed to having a certain amount of their preferred drink around, and always annoyed when it ran out or there was no more to be found. Of course, the thought of finding a suitable source around here had popped into her mind, though the headlines alone would be a scandal if she were caught draining some poor thing - it was enough to cause her to blush again as she politely declined yet another offer to dance.

There was only one woman that she was still interested in, though last she knew, that woman was enjoying her life elsewhere - she hoped she was happy at least wherever she had ended up. Turning away for a moment, she brought her hand up, carefully pushing a tear away from her cheek as it slowly rolled down. She had to be presentable after all, couldn't embarrass her mother or older sister. With a silent nod to herself, she endeavored to attempt to find something suitable to replace her preferred drink, though she figured that a calmer, quieter place would be much more suitable to withstand the evening.

Fiore

NaNo 2021: 625​

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk was starting to wonder about something. Today marked the second time in a week he was put on escort duty. And not only did he enjoy the prospect of it, he volunteered for it. He had taken a good deal of time to prepare, making sure that he would be fit to be seen at such an event alongside his ward for the night. Though there was a voice at the back of his head suggesting that the Minister would likely find herself under his care a good deal more. Kyyrk's suit for the evening felt foreign to him, as his normal attire would be to wear some form of armor. But tonight? He decided against it. It was time for him to embrace who, and what, he was.

Upon his hip, the ceremonial husk of a lightsaber rested. His actual blade was tucked safely away in the pocket dimension he normally used to conceal it. And maker willing, he would leave it there for the duration of the evening. Kyyrk adjusted his tie, and made sure it was secure behind his vest. If anything should happen, it was the biggest liability to him. His pant legs disappeared into calf-length boots that were as black as his suit, polished to shine in the light. Next to the chains draped across his breast pocket, he wore a series of small pins. The first, a campaign medal. The mark given to Survivors of Rhand. He had many more like it. Tanaab. Eshan. But he decided against those. Such medals might be...telling.

Beside that, a pin that signified his membership of the Vylmiran Nobility. A symbol any from offworld would certainly fail to recognize. After all, Kyyrk was the last of his kind, and this was to be the first time such a symbol was worn off world in millennia. Beside that, an old medal that he wore purely for strategic reasons. It was not a medal unique to him, but it was difficult to earn. A medal that denoted acts of valor in service of the Confederacy. Was it petty of him to wear it? Perhaps. But without his efforts? The agents of the Eternal Empire might have been successful in assassinating Srina Talon .
But, he was happy to let bygones be bygones. It would not be the first time he'd forgiven the people of this nation. They were not responsible for the transgressions of their ancestors.

He had exited the ship along with the other members of the Confederate security detail, and checked in along with the rest of them. He did not seek exemption from the weapons ban, but he did make it known that he was more than just a guest. Tonight, he was a bodyguard. He waited at the foot of the designated ship, hands clasped at the small of his back. His hair had been pulled back into its usual ponytail. All in all? The man cleaned up surprisingly well. Not that he was perpetually dingy, but there was something about Kyyrk in formal settings. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself. When his ward for the night began to descend the ramp, he offered a slight bow of greeting.

He turned to flank and fall in step alongside Alessandra Creed , extending his elbow for her to take as he escorted her. "Minister. Fancy meeting you here." His tone was dry, but the humor in his words could not be missed. Their meeting tonight had, of course, been planned. "I trust your journey was uneventful?" A secretive glance was offered towards the ceiling, and the small owl perched within the rafters. Alessandra hadn't met Horace yet. Kyyrk was debating tonight being the night he changed that. For now, Horace was keeping watch from a higher vantage point than the others could manage. Plus, such would allow Kyyrk to focus more closely on his immediate surroundings, as well as his ward...

 

[Darth Metus]

Wearing: Executive Formal Wear​

Grjótharður, Vengard

When last they spoke, it was on less than pleasant terms.

Vengeance was a slippery slope. In the moment of execution, the one wielding the sword could feel perfectly justified. After all, wrong had been done to their otherwise peaceful life. Pain. Suffering. Sorrow. All had been wreaked upon them. So why shouldn't it be right to bring the same upon those responsible? Yet, in that moment of "justice", the criminal becomes the victim. After feeling the sting of revenge, is it wrong for them to desire it themselves? So begins the endless spiral. A slippery slope of revenge turning into revenge. Bloodshed turning into bloodshed.

One need not look further than the perpetual struggle of Light and Dark to see how well that eventually turns out.

Thus, when last the Eternal Empire and Confederacy sat down together, there was blood between them. The previous monarch had been responsible for the demise of Srina Talon 's unborn child. The reigning monarch had been responsible for the death of Isley Verd's daughter. By the right of vengeance, they had every justification to avenge their fallen. But instead, a new direction was chosen. Though frigid words of truth were uttered from the Confederate side, there would be no destruction. There would be no bloodshed.

Instead, they would put aside the past and forge ahead together. The threats of that day demanded such, for the Bryn'adul were rampaging about the stars. Vengeance could ait in the face of such a horde.

Now, quite some time later, the Eternals had indeed picked up a blade. And amidst the efforts of the Galaxy, they plunged it deep into the heart of the alien scourge. The Bryn'adul perished - a final death, and the heroes were named Eternal. This alone was cause to raise a glass in celebration. And in the wake of such a triumph, a question nipped at the back of the Vicelord's mind. The scourge was gone - but what of tomorrow? What fresh Hell awaited the peace of the Galaxy now?

Only time would tell.

Arriving at the appointed hour, the reinstated Vicelord disembarked promptly from his Confederate shuttle. Ever present was his alabaster apprentice and Exarch, Srina Talon , at his right hand. He himself was garbed in his usual formal attire - though tonight he opted for a bow tie. As the festivities began, his heading was immediately for the Ballroom, as he owed one dance in particular. And as he entered the hall, he opened his arms wide - as if to embrace all.

"Empress," he began, offering a smile, "you look radiant! Thank you for hosting us."

Ah, the music was familiar. A tune he had heard years before during a much more peaceful time. His dominant hand reached out - and offer to make good on his debt.

"May I have this dance?"

Ingrid L'lerim​

 

[Josiah]

B A L L R O O M​

Social gatherings were never Josiah's strength.

Throughout his storied life, Josiah had accumulated a number of skills. On paper, he could move mountains. He was excellent with the blade. He was an okay dad. The list went on. What he wasn't, however, was fond of crowds. And not just any crowds, mind. It was one thing if he was on a battlefield surrounded by soldiers and allies alike. That was an environment he could navigate just fine. Social crowds were the bane of his existence.

With but a few drinks, even the most honorable soul could turn into a blithering idiot. With but the right bass line, even the most chaste soul could turn promiscuous. The nature of such gatherings contrasted with Josiah's comfort levels astronomically. Hell, even before he found the Light, he felt this way. One would think that an upbringing on Nar Shaddaa would desensitize a man to such gatherings. But, no, he didn't like raves back then and he wasn't a fan of ballrooms now.

Yet, duty called. And so, the Obsidian Lord presented himself.

His comfort zone - which consisted of his usual armored robes - had been exchanged for a rental. A simple, black tuxedo with a tie. It hugged his form uncomfortably. If any disturbance broke out and he needed to defend himself, the jacket would horrendously obstruct his ability to move. But that was assuming the worst. With a huff, he stepped off the Confederate transport and headed for the ballroom. There were a few other options, of course. He could have headed up to the Observatory, which was said to be an escape from the noise. But, at the very least he needed to make an appearance. Setting a good example was how the Lord Commander put it.

Bullchit was how Josiah'd put it.

The Obsidian Lord paused at the entrance of the ballroom, adjusting his tie one final time before stepping in. And immediately, the noise made him suck in a deep breath. Overlapping conversations. Live music. Josiah immediately felt lost - and thus he gravitated towards the first friendly face he saw. That just so happened to be Narissa Jondi - a fellow Knight. They had survived Christophsis together, but never had the chance to exchange words during the chaos. No time like the present.

"Knight Jondi!" he said, waving slightly. "Good to see you."

Narissa Jondi + Open​

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Vengard [Ballroom]
Wearing: XxXxXxX
Tag: Kyyrk

____________________________________________________________​

There was always a moment before the doors opened. When she could hear music pouring through, chatter like white noise, the clinking of glassware, and the scent of a dozen floral scents running together in a dizzying fragrance. Her thoughts ran wild for a moment while her mind slipped through the crowd unbidden with crawling fingers that sought an end to the noise—But it was impossible to overcome. Impossible, to avoid. The closer they came to the crows the more crimson lips pressed into a thin line. They were so loud.

So many voices. So many thoughts that crested the surface of her psyche like a rock skipping over the surface of a lake. A thousand voices. It was impossible to tell which belonged where and who was saying what while it all blended into a colorful, deafening, swirling pool. Were she a lesser woman she would have stopped, turned, and run the other way.

Normally, she could tune it out.

Her nerves were made of steel threads but walking around amongst the people that Darth Tacitus had once led gave her a distinct sense of unease. She knew the truth of their former leader whereas most of them would be left in the dark. He was many things. Chief among them—The brother to her ex-husband. Family. Ex-Family.

There were pieces of her past that she didn't want to revisit at any point in the near future.

This was one of them.

Just when the dull ache in the back of her mind seemed like it might light on fire, she felt the distant sensation of a quiet space nearby. Where everything else was bright, burning, this was soft. Mellow. She was slow to turn, a little too slow. "Kyyrk...", his name passed through her lips before she could even see him. Though, when she did, she was surprised to find that the flame was dying. It was akin to a light rain that carefully, unobtrusively, washed away irrational anxiety and elegant fingers slid through the crook of his arm. Holding firm, but not too tight. "Knight Verros."

A playful squeeze.

The correction was coupled with a faint smile that touched the kiss of her mouth. Almost, the teasing smirk that he would have been used to. She squared her shoulders and rolled them once. Silently, finding resolve. This was no different than any other diplomatic affair and it would be over soon enough. No one had seen Kainan in what felt like an age. Surely, he would not be here.

Surely.

Her distraction had cost her the ability to fully appreciate the fact that the dark-haired man at her side was dressed rather appropriately for the venue. She looked once. Then, again.

Realizing she'd been asked another question her eyes slowly stole back toward his face. Unashamed, of course. "It was long. I tried to sleep through it but…That wasn't happening."

She was quiet for a moment while they passed the double doors that led into a proper ballroom before her curiosity began to make her itch. Alessandra was used to these events. She wore a form-fitting evening gown of black and gold. The bodice had a translucent collar that hid a décolleté neckline. It was both alluring and fashionable, sacrificing nothing. Black heels with rounded tops hid her feet while her hair had been styled in rolling barrel curls. She knew how to dress for these events.

It surprised her that he did too.

"So, where the hell have you been hiding—", she gestured with her free hand, "All this?"

 

[Felmorante L'lerim]

PRINCESS OF THE EMPIRE

On Her Person: Powered Wheelchair, Enviroweave Blanket and Boots, Formal Outfit, 1 Whimsy Knife
Objective: Relax
Tag: Open

There was a struggle between finding the perfect outfit for the evening, and finding something that could be comfortable at the same time. There had been some signs of feeling coming back to her legs of late, but she wasn't able to tell if it was a made up belief, or the truth. Instead of opting for a nice dress as most would, given the frustration of her seated position and the threat of the wheels catching it, Felmorante instead opted for a lovely Formal Outfit instead.

The rest of her outfit made sure she was comfortable as she peered through the looking glass to the planets above, a member of staff not far away from her at all times should she require something. She watched the stars twinkle in the vastness of space, enjoying the quiet for a little while longer before attempting to navigate the main hall where everyone else was.

Or to save face from being unable to dance.

Not that she would make that point known to Ingrid as she pulled away from the telescope. Her eyes looked about the whole atrium in silent wonder at the design. Sneaking her hands beneath the blanket across her lap, she kept her teeth from chattering as a chill crept in. It was lovely, and quiet. A chance to look at the stars without wondering who was aiming to destroy something or even cause a bit of chaos with some attempt at their perception of peace.

 

[Srina Talon]

v e n g a r d
Tag: Darth Metus | Darth Empyrean
Dressed in: Silver
_________________________________________________________

// Imbi Menel Cemenyë menë Ráno tië //​

Silence.

That was the wintry epithet that would bridge the gap between Master and Apprentice while iridescent wisps of a youngling's prayer percolated in the back of his mind. The bidirectional line of communication would show what Exarch Talon did not say. Would show, clearly, the colossal levels of restraint she employed by allowing her feet to touch this ill-begotten ground without setting it aflame. The lilting song that would make the ears of Darth Metus itch while it told of the scorching path the Moon took as it traveled the length of space betwixt the sky and earth was haunting.

She left enemies, betrayers, and blasphemers as motes of dust in Her wake.

The hatred that the flaxen-haired woman felt for Eternal Empire had not dimmed since their last parting.

The bleating of their sacred ginger cow still rang in the back of her mind like a nagging echo. Her salted tears, feeble, and full of empty vagaries and half measures would never move the Dread Queen of the Confederacy toward anything but swift execution. It was a mercy, though, it was pity intended for the betterment of the common man. Not, the overly confident swine.

Weaklings did not deserve to rule.​

Her fingers brushed that of the newly reinstated Vicelord before he threw open the doors to an exceedingly opulent hall. His personality filled the room and swallowed the golden flickers that haunted the halls of glacial mercurial orbs. No matter her thoughts, desires, she also knew what duty demanded. He wanted to bury the hatchet with the Empress. Srina, wanted to bury the hatchet in the Empress.

Only one of them could have their way.

Her Master would win. Just this once.

But he owed her.

Icy calm descended and a silvery gown pulled across the ballroom floor as if it was made of liquid light. She wore a grey overlay on her shoulders that was stitched and embroidered to keep the evenings chill at bay. She had no desire to watch her Master come into physical contact with a creature that she likened to a plague. Even her attire made it seem like she'd lost a fight with a vulture over a piece of rotten meat.

No, there were other places she could be.

Srina had come to Vengard because it was what her people needed. She stayed her hand, and for the time being, her tongue, simply because she would always place their needs above her own. It was the way of it. The billions of souls that called the Southern Systems home would always take precedence. She was only one star—One light. When her flame went out…

It would hardly be missed.

If their lights went out?

Her world would be full of darkness and she was just that selfish to endure the sacrifice.

Her thoughts drifted while delicately covered feet moved soundlessly across the polished floor. One of her ankles had a golden chain on it, thin, and with a single charm in the shape of a crescent moon. It could be seen from time to time when the shimmersilk shifted, to and fro, and the achingly beautiful Exarch made her way through the crowd with a certain sense of resignation. She was given her space. Not because she seemed threatening, but, because of the opposite. Everything about her seemed to be designed to draw others in. Her face, her movements, even the sound of her voice.

Those that were unused to seeing full-bred Echani would find themselves tongue-tied. Srina paid it no mind. It was a genetic flaw, nothing more.

Lengths of white hair had been pulled up, braided, while the rest fell down around her like glittering snowfall. She wore very little jewelry other than the plain anklet, two rings, and that was all. A golden one that could shift to her liking when her mood changed and a silver one that Darth Metus would always recognize. It was one of the first gifts he had ever given her.

There were signs that pointed this way and that.

She waited at the cross, though, eventually made her way toward the garden. It was where she would have gone were she home at Sinners Well. Srina twisted the golden object around her ring finger and felt her thoughts drift. She was already resigned to the fact that she would not enjoy this evening.

Alas, enjoyment had nothing to do with it.

// Imbi Menel Cemenyë menë Ráno tië //

// ...Find me…//

Darth Empyrean

 

[Trinity Harris]

​

Spoiler: Equipment and links

Riding: Phantom
Accompanied by: Plushee Companion Droid
Wearing: Guarderma Bio-suit
Ship: Luminary class light explorer exchanging crew space for biolabs

Spoiler: wearing

Tags: Open

Trinity was not sulking, its didn't matter what her pilot or her friends had said, they were all mistaken. She stepped off of her speeder bike, goodbumps on her exposed leg from riding in her dress. She wasn't bothered at all that Eleena Salwa couldn't get leave for this party, nope, she was entirely content and happy today, she needed some nice chill time in her lab for the journey here and she had gotten so much work done.

She straightened her dress, this was not the sort of dress she would usually go for, it was more the sort of dress you wore if you were trying to look good for someone, yeah she was looking good. She wasn't sulking because there was another in this place that she was very excited to meet, a beautiful one of a kind someone that she was going to saunter up to, with her high slit and her freshly shaven legs and court. No, Trinity wasn't sulking at all.

It didn't matter that this other lover was a rare one of a kind lotus flower that was believed exctinct out of this very garden, she would have her way with it. Her dna-capture device was secreted in her purse and she even had the tiniest pair of cutters in there, just in case she thought she could get a sample without being thrown in prison. She was looking forward to her date and planned on sending a selfie out to tease an absent someone. 'its EXACTLY what it looks like' and she laughed internally to herself as she handed her invitation to the door staff.

Walking through the ball she fiddled nervously with her graduation ring, surrounded by all these powerful and beautiful people she once again felt out of place. But she knew a few more faces now, the meeting with the Silvers had made her feel more like one of them.

She continued through the ballroom and out into the gardens where all the flower would be partying together. This place was even more beautiful than the ballroom. She knew where the lotus was but could take her time enjoying the sweet fragrance around her and the wonderful colours.

Ahead of her was a woman in an exquisite silver gown, she recognised the face of Srina Talon from somewhere but couldn't quite place her, probably some politician she thought to herself as she smiled sweetly and politely nodded at the woman. You're beautiful and all, but I have a date with the second most beautiful creature in the whole galaxy tonight.

 

[Laertia Io]

Wearing: Armorweave Gown/Mask

Armed with: Nothing, De Lifte Crystal (Ring Inset)

With: The Battalion

Came to Vengard in: The Blood of Kerest (Sarka Class Frigate)

007 hours prior...

What they had found within the garden in a previous ballroom hosted by Ingrid L'lerim was bad news.

Worse than bad. They would have to go into the heart of Coruscant territory. But they were not certain which part of the planet the last piece of the puzzle to find Khemost contained.

With the investigation stalled, Xiphos had decided to find something else to occupy her attention. She had rededicated herself to her ship building and salvaging operations, in between testing herself in combat against the Battalion. Among other things she did with The Battalion.

She was currently eating breakfast at a small table in her quarters with the murderous Witch who was naked and covered in self inflicted ritual scars bleeding white blood, hair unkempt, who "dined" by consuming a captured Ashlan Priest, Flesh Shuddering as she devoured his life energy, who struggled to escape his bonds to the very end, until he mummified. The Battalion seemed adapted for life in a starship, which made Xiphos like her even more than she already did. The Battalion kept up with her in a way Syd never could have.

They were both trying to turn the other to their way of thinking. It was anyone's guess as to who was winning the argument.

Xiphos knew at the moment she didn't quite care. It would last or it would not last.

"So..." The Battalion remarked, her flesh ceasing it's shuddering as soon as the man was dead and she tossed him aside. Xiphos was still casually eating her cereal. The scars gradually disappeared, but the runes remained, her eyes a bright sulphur yellow.

"House Io is at last all official. Set up. Still nomadic but we can work on that." The Witch summed up.

"You're curious where you fit in..." Xiphos stated, using a vocal enhancement strip on her throat to speak at a normal volume. Otherwise it was a whisper...she had destroyed her vocal chords at Kerest upon finding out her lover Syd had been Darth Phyre, the woman who had murdered her biological parents, dismembering and scattering the pieces across Dantooine.

"It is getting a little...annoying being referred to as your squeeze by The Model 3's..." The Battalion admitted, finding the 3's particularly trollish, even more than the Model 1's.

"Then we shall put the matter to rest on the spot." Xiphos replied, slurping up the last of the milk in her cereal bowl loudly and obnoxiously, standing up and heading to a locked cabinet that The Battalion had sensed a powerful Dark Side signature eminating from. She retrieved a small case, went to the table and opened it.

The Battalion stared at the deep red Lignan Crystal set on a ring of Phrik Alloy.

The Battalion stared in total surprise.

"You want my hand?"

"Yes."

"In marriage."

"Yes." Xiphos stated bluntly.

"Do I get a Title?"

"Consort."

"Consort Battalion...hmmm..." The Witch mused, looking at the ring.

"I have conditions..." The Battalion said.

"Name them."

"The Cult of the Brain Demon gets to operate in any territory that House Io controls."

"Accepted, on the condition that no citizen of the House or Civilian in the territory controlled by the House ever suffers the Cults heinous practices. Other than that you will be free to pursue the Dark Side as you wish."

The Battalion looked more interested. But she still had two more conditions.

"Second Condition: The Cult gets a Star Destroyer for it's personal use."

"Are you kidding? Not only is your cult getting one, you are getting one."

The Battalion raised an eyebrow.

"Third condition: You must become a Force Spawn within one year of marrying me."

Only this made Xiphos hesitate.

The Battalion reached over, playfully stroking her chin.

"The prospect frightens you, going from Demi-Goddess to outright Goddess?"

"It's not that you are asking me to become like you..." Xiphos answered carefully. "It's just that I want as little in common with Syd as possible..."

The Battalion rested her chin on her hand.

"You fear losing something in the transition..."

"You lost some stuff in the transition also." Xiphos pointed out.

(The Battalion's Will Saves have been eroded by -1)

The Battalion hid the momentary flash of doubt across her mind.

"I gained more than I lost."

"Against your will." Xiphos pointed out again.

"You are free to refuse my final condition. Just as I am free to refuse your Title."

(Darth Xiphos's will saves have been lowered by -1)

The Battalion plucked a grape out of a fruit bowl on the table and ate it.

"To lead these people, you must shed your mortal nature. Being a mortal can take you no farther in the struggles ahead. House Io needs more than a champion. It needs an inexorable Force of Nature to hold it up."

"We're not Gods..." Xiphos replied.

The Battalion leaned back and smiled a smug smile.

"According to who? The self righteous Jedi Masters you swore vengeance on?" The Battalion asked.

Darth Xiphos was silent at the Battalion's point.

"To declare oneself a God is an act of great hubris. The true Gods would surely punish me for speaking such a blasphemy, as they will you for declaring such..." Xiphos said. "But I suppose they could only punish me so much for declaring myself a Demon..."

The Battalion raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, Batty I'll do it. Give me a year and a half though. Abandoning one's... human characteristics is not a thing to be done casually. I need time to mentally prep."

The Battalion thought about it a moment.

"Deal, my Love..." The Witch said, holding out her hand.

Xiphos slipped the ring onto The Battalion's finger.

"Just so you know, you're signing a pre-nup..." Xiphos added afterward.

The Battalion rolled her eyes.

"Drat. You remembered..."

Present...

The best part about a Sarka Class, was how few were actually required to man it.

Other ships, even ships in this size, often required vastly greater numbers of crew. But not this one. Scion Mobile Shipyards had earned their pay with the Sarka Class. Less than a hundred organics were required to keep all essential systems running.

Today the Blood of Kerest was staffed entirely by Organic Citizens of House Io. Refugees from worlds ravaged by the Bryn'adul, and later The Maw. All of them wanted bloody vengeance on every surviving Draelvasir, Maw Savage as well as the Jedi Order. Xiphos had not encouraged the last hatred (She had made an active point of it not to do so...she wanted such hatred to be a perfectly natural result of their own experiences, to make it difficult in the extreme to dislodge from outside parties)...it had evolved naturally on its own.

Xiphos had decided more study of this "Diplomacy" was necessary. Plus, the chance to observe, really "observe" all these people and how they interacted would prove a most fascinating experience.

She had gone in total disguise of course, her presence in the Force hidden by the magic of the Battalion. She wore a mask of golden Ruusan Copper which bore a stern Countenance, head covered by a silvery hood attached to a gown of Metallic Silver. The Battalion, still wearing her engagement ring, had chosen to go as herself, though she too cloaked her presence with the Dark Magics of her cult and put on a metallic gray gown with a stern looking face mask also in case there were any SJC or CIS Personnel nearby who might have recognized her primary guise from Kerest.

Xiphos wasn't sure as she entered the ball with her bride to be, whether to sputter in fury at the sight of Srina Talon or go blind. She forced herself to remember Srina had simply exiled her rather than kill her. Few beyond Ingrid had pulled that level of Houdini with her. (Getting exiled rather than executed was for Xiphos her one true act of escape artistry as a professional magician.)

If Ingrid could eventually make peace with these two people, Srina and Darth Metus (Holy crap, that's what Metus looked like without Sith armor? He looked like he exuded an aura of pure "I'm so handsome my smile melts people at ten yards out." Xiphos was desperate to know his character build, specifically how many points he had put into his Charisma Stat).

"So...what shall we do first, my love?" The Battalion asked.

"We observe..." Xiphos whispered as they walked into the ballroom.

"Except we don't look like we are doing that..."

 

[Tovald Kahmen’’a]

Location: Grjótharður, Vengard, Kalidan
Objective: Enjoy the peace of the Garden
Wearing: Link
Tags: Open

As soon as he landed he went through security and the usual checks, he was then allowed to enter when he proved he wasn't carrying weaponry. He had picked a dark red suit for the event because that's the only one that fit him now, the others shrank or were too formal. He was tempted to wear the Masquerade outfit again but ultimately decided against it as he would stick out way too much, more so than he does already.

He had by that time noticed his brother shoving and pushing his way around in the Ballroom. Why was he there? Tovald knew if he stayed, they will inevitably they would have a very public spat in front of everyone, at worst, come to blows too. He would hate to fight, particularly on a night like this. So, he took the path to the inner garden, besides, he didn't feel like dancing. He'd rather enjoy the peace tonight.

Tovald walked along the path, admiring the flowers, noting their colours. He wondered if there were any Butterflies here, he liked to watch them float from flower to flower and dance with each other. He did read in the pamphlet that if he was lucky, he would see a menagerie of critters tonight. He usually collects pamphlets to look over, it helps him prepare.

He smiled at the thought of his own little menagerie of cats back on The Cyclone, how they play and meow at him before dawn for food. He read that "Making Biscuits" was a good thing too, even if their claws poke at you while they do it. Vee started getting his winter coat, so he's even fluffier than before. Well, it's going to be an adventure when that sheds, Tovald doesn't mind, cats can't help it, but cat hair gets absolutely everywhere.

 

[Narissa Jondi]

Dance

LOCATION: Grjótharður, Vengard, Kalidan
Objective: Dance
Wearing: This Dress.
Tag: [ Josiah ]

It was a beautiful, mountainous world, rich with pine forests and dusted with snow. The Palace of the Empress of the Eternal Empire was nestled at the foot of the mountains, just high enough to give an unrivaled view of the entirety of Vengard city. Layered, complex energy Shields protected the palace and the exquisite, pine-forested estate, as did numerous military personnel in their more formal gear. A light dusting of snow glittered over the landscape, allowed in by carefully tuned defenses. As Narissa was escorted within the personal residence of the Empress, the regimented and orderly aesthetic - wood/stone/steel - was carried throughout. Perhaps more personal quarters were allowed to vary from the architectural statement, but these formal areas did not.

The Ruling Hall / Ballroom was huge. Thousands of people mingled here, while there was still room to dance. Multiple stages with live musicians played an elegant waltz in the background, somehow producing a pleasing, unified sound despite the vast size of the chamber.

The Empress centered the room in an elegant and revealing black gown. The slender profile glittered with trim, but Narissa wasn't nearly close enough to see details. A disturbing man was speaking to her, his aura enough to discourage Narissa from attempting to speak with her, at least for now. A tall warrior failed at attempting to look civilized despite his distinguished blue suit. Another elegant black-and-grey gown made Narissa wonder if there had been an unspoken color-code expected of the gowns. Even the scholar Kyyrk Verros was stone-and-steel color-coordinated in black and white. Her own gown was a dark enough blue to nearly pass for black, the wealth and elegance of the gown in the complex texture and embroidery. A smattering of white and cream rose petals danced in their own anti-grave field, eternally cycling from hand to hem. A compliment in honor of their hosts, she felt, though she didn't know enough of their customs to guess if they would even understand it.

The Sith Lord Darth Metus was neither dressed as a Darth, nor a Mandalorian, nor even a politician. Whatever it was he thought he was wearing, it appeared to be a pair of black jeans and a semi-formal blue, button down shirt and a bow tie. It was embarrassing. It might due for a corporate gathering but here … !! He may be devious and dangerous enough to have re-engineered a second ascension to power, but someone should really manage his Wardrobe.

Another Obsidian Lord entered the ball room, his classical, perfect black tuxedo a shouted contrast to the once-again Vicelord. While the continuing black-and-white theme bothered Narissa, she recognized the calm, centered Knight from the recent battle upon Javan. To her surprise, he smiled and hailed her by name. Drifting over to him, she offered her hand in formal greeting.

"I fear I am the merest squire, Lord Josiah. It is a pleasure to see you once again; your calm presence is a balm." There was the merest hint of a tease in the true-silver eyes and cool, spring-rain voice. He'd been calmer in the madness of the alien temple than in a ballroom.

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[Ingrid L'lerim]

Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Archon of the Primyn Group
Empress of Terraris, Supreme Commander of the Terraris Command, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium​

Objective I.: Try to having fun
Location: Grjótharður, Vengard, Kalidan
Equipment: Dress / Dress || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Darth Metus | Open

[ Waltz ]
<"High Nelvaanian"> | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

<"Mr. Nihro, welcome! I hope you will feel good tonight!"> answered Rath Nihro 's words, though she didn't answer the younger man's question.

She was radiant; although almost everyone remembers her as she was a cold soldier, Ingrid was able to behave differently too. She also fit perfectly into such evening dresses. It is true that she loved the uniform more, but the woman always fulfilled her duties as well. However, she was still unable to get used to the weight of the crown. She could have served the empire in a thousand different ways, the ruling title was the only thing she didn’t want.

She looked through the crowd, hadn't felt she belonged here for a long time, had accepted and reconciled herself to not being human anymore. And finally came Darth Metus, the man who eventually took back the title of Vicelord. Her daughter inflicted a deep, never-healing wound on the woman's soul. All Ingrid could do was learn to live with the pain. A lot of time has passed for her. After defeating Omni and the droid is gone…

Ingrid paid too much there for what she did. Almost her entire personality was destroyed. She couldn’t come back from that mechanical, really emotionless state. So she decided to stay there, in the Netherspace. She has chosen the place where time passes the fastest. Decades passed before she was able to start feeling anything again. Although only days had passed in Realspace, the disappearance was not conspicuous. However, what others could have noticed, was that the Empress has become even colder and even more spacer.

In all, she spent more than three hundred years there, and under this time only half a year passed in Realspace. She gathered strength, learned and relearned to feel, she literally had to rebuild her spiritual world, her soul and personality. But it doesn’t work out completely, there was something that was lost forever and there was something that never healed. And the man's hand reached out to her.

"Vicelord! Thank you for accepting the invitation!" she said.

Now her voice was not as cold, military as usual. It didn’t fit into such a celebration situation.

"With the greatest pleasure!" she answered; with an elegant and graceful gesture she placed her hand in the man's hand and let him lead her to the dance floor. "How do you feel? Did you manage to find a solution to the problems that led you to temporarily resign from your Vicelord title?" she inquired.

 

[Rath Nihro]

It didn't come much as a surprise when the Empress avoided his question. It was, after all, a poor attempt of small talk. For a man in his position, Rath was considered to be lucky just to speak to the Empress. After Rath entered the palace grounds, there were a number of presences that were both great and minor. The smells were not of food or drink however. The smells were mixed with flowery scent and a heavy odor of decay. It was a mixture of the Light and Dark part of the Force. Unlike most people who could tell which was which by sensing through the Force. Rath could only tell by scent, and frankly in the past Rath got around it by either wearing a mask or simply suppressing the Force within him. In his state, Rath could not, and the former soldier made his way out of the ballroom as he had no place in there.


At least in the gardens the earthly scent of moisture lingered in the air that was welcoming. Rath noted that he wasn't the only one who came to the gardens, but they either appeared to be waiting on someone or someone engaged in conversation with them. Some of them Rath could still smell the Dark side even from a distance. So Rath walked away from them and found himself in an isolated spot within the gardens. Where he sat down at a bench as he hoped that his presence wouldn't bother the others too much. He didn't come here with anyone, and frankly Rath only knew of the Empress. So he didn't expect to talk to anyone.


With that in mind, Rath focused on the plants. Not so much as picking at them, but more so visually inspecting them. A lot of them Rath had never seen before, and they were quite interesting. However, a familiar scent reached him that somehow always overpower the other scents. An indicator to him that someone or something was near. So Rath politely stood up to his feet before he started to make his way up to the observatory. A marvelous location where one could gaze up into the stars and just take a moment to admire. Frankly he wasn't the only one up there either as he politely maintained their distance. For he didn't wish to disturb any of them.

 

[Kyyrk]

Kyyrk pulled away from Alessandra slightly, turning to look at her. Indignation was written across his face. His tone rang with mock hurt. "What, you think I only know how to wear armor? The nerve. I knew there was something I didn't like about you minster types." The wry grin creeping into his face clearly signaled that Kyyrk didn't care in the slightest. It was almost as if he was intentionally trying to set her mind at ease. It wasn't a far fetched possibility. After all, if he knew of the connection between her and Adron, chances were good he also knew some of the history with the Eternal Empire. Kyyrk couldn't help but smile at the idea that the Eternal Empire was one of the closest allies the Confederacy had, yet it had caused so much pain for so many of her key members.

He drew close to the minister again, reaching across to pat her hand with his right. "Never been to a party like this. Haven't had a need nor a reason to dress like this. Somewhat...impractical for day to day." He certainly wasn't lying about that. Being one of the chief enforcers of the Confederacy's chief enforcer often led Kyyrk to combat scenarios. Nothing he was willing to wear a suit to. He looked this way and that, casually scanning the crowd as they entered the ballroom. But more importantly, he saw how Alessandra was looking at him. His Miralukan origins ensured that he had eyes in the back of his head.

In a way, it offered him an unfair advantage. He was far better at admiring her form in secret than she was his. Kyyrk turned his attention back towards Alessandra. "I couldn't spend all night escorting you looking as I normally do." He dressed well enough in his day to day life. But his comfort and ease within such a garb as he wore now spoke volumes to the man's history. He was no stranger to working in the same echelons as nobility. He let the silence hang for a moment, before he turned back to his ward and said, "If your lack of sleep becomes a bother, I am quite well versed in polite exfiltration." Or in layman's terms, he could make excuses for them to depart. "For better or worse, I am yours to command for the night, Minister. My sole concern is your well being."

Alessandra Creed

 

[Anashja Tal]

Objective: Socialise and dance
Tags: Open for interaction

Equipment: Beskar'gam, lightsabers, healing supplies, 3 thermal detonators, ENCL-36 blaster

Spoiler: Wearing

Anashja Tal arrived at the ballroom in a rented swoop speeder, landing it in the bay and handing the keys over to the Valet. She was disappointed that she had been forced to attend alone, but someone needed to take care of Ti'zan and she didn't want to miss this. Despite her reservations about the Empress, she did have a measure of respect for her leadership and this was certain to be a fun party. She wondered if she would find someone to dance with, probably, she usually found young men fascinated by her species, but she was just our to let her montral down a bit.

Entering the ball she noted all the beautiful dresses around her and if anything she felt a little underdressed, she shrugged to herself, she was young so didn't feel the massive gowns of some of the other patrons would even suit her that well. She grabbed a drink and approached the dance floor, lifted her hands up and dancing in time to the music surrounded by other party goers. She spotted the Empress, she looked fantastic as always, the worse of her agelessness was always something that worried Anashja, but she was rocking that dress tonight and it was her party so she would let her off.

She continued to dance as a young man put his arms around her "hey, I am Cal, are you a spaceport violation because you've got fine..." He shut up when Anashja gave him a withering look. "Wow, OK, you get one dance for trying somethin so cheesey and one because you are cute but then off you go."

She was good to her word, dancing well with him for the duration of two songs, before sending him away, to much protest.

 

[Alessandra Creed]

Location: Vengard [Ballroom]
Wearing: XxXxXxX
Tag: Kyyrk

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The half-smile that lingered on her features widened while the Knight took overly exaggerated offense to her assessment of his attire. The same free hand that she'd gestured toward him with gave him a light tap to the chest while they crossed the threshold. It might have been a little harder than she'd intended. Sometimes, she didn't know her own strength. "Ha, ha. It's hardly my fault that I've never seen a Knight wear anything that wasn't liberated from military surplus.", Alessandra returned cheekily, though, dark eyes shimmered with a soft sense of mirth. It relaxed the tension she felt and washed away the lingering anxiety. Truth be told—She preferred it, when he smiled.

The Minister of Commerce was not quite as jaded, nor, as stubborn as some members of the Confederacy when it came to her thoughts on the Eternal Empire. It wasn't the nation she drew issue with. Their history was convoluted and sordid but very few nations were always and forever entirely at peace. It was old family bonds that left her feeling out of place. Raw. It was as if her nerve endings were being polished with sandpaper. Kyyrk drew her nearer and that feeling ebbed. Still present, but less.

Manageable.

"Never? Really?"

She found that hard to believe. Most soldiers and civilians felt and looked exceedingly awkward when they were required to truss up like penguins. It was easy to spot. With his hair pulled back, medals, and the sleek cut of the suit that he had chosen—He fit right in. "Mm…I can agree with part of that. I'm fairly certain that if the corset in this—", she motioned toward her own silhouette, "—Were any tighter I might pass out."

The dark-haired woman couldn't comment on the pointed and spicy nature of her footwear because heels were a constant. She was rarely seen without them. Even, in her own home.

The hem of her gown made a quiet whisper while they moved deeper into the Ballroom and the festivities began in earnest. The Vicelord made himself known to the Empress and the Minister of Commerce could only shake her head in mild amusement. Almost, like a proud parent watching their youngling do what it was they did. Without fear, without hesitation, that was the way of Darth Metus . Her focus turned back toward her escort and she nodded her head toward the wintry form of Srina Talon heading in the opposite direction. It was almost creepy—Watching people part like the sea.

"Your Mistress seems displeased."

Honestly, she was surprised that the white-haired Exarch arrived at all. Then again, it also made sense.

Duty before all.

She chuckled when he mentioned standing at her side in armor for the evening and a lilting laugh escaped her. "Well, you could try.", the words were smooth as silk, though, the usual smirk that sat on the edges of crimson lips was ever-present. "But our hosts make take issue with you carrying that many weapons in such polite company."

It was a mockery, really. So many of the people in this room could tear each other limb from limb while barely lifting a finger. Requiring that weaponry be left behind was, more or less, for show. Alessandra reached toward her neck to touch the deep amethyst crystal that sat in the hollow of her throat. It was so dark that it would appear black in certain lights. She always wore it, though, occasionally with a different chain. Always. The Minister seemed to be considering their options for a moment.

The option to leave?

Tempting.

Instead of bending beneath the pressure of white-noise against her psyche the tan-skinned epicanthic stopped their leisurely pass across the shining marble floor and used the last bit of momentum to elegantly round on Kyyrk and face him. "…Mine to command? Don't you have a way with words, Knight Verros.", she paused, and let her hand slide from his elbow, fingers catching, so that she could lead that hand to her waist. Her right raised and waited for him to take it. "Dance with me, then. Distract me."

"At least until it's socially acceptable to call it."