Junction Feast of Iron and Flame || SO/ME Junction of Omwat & Malachor V

[Ellissanthia]

Location: Imperial Palace - Jutrand
Thread Objective: Dinner and a Show
Attire: Servant Uniform
Equipment and Effects: Storm Kiss (Concealed) │ Dermal Hydration Underlay
Tag: Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Gerwald Lechner

To Ellissanthia’s surprise, the night was going relatively smoothly. Even though this particular assignment was of a similar kind that she was used to (in that it involved serving the Sith), she had expected a disaster for the simple fact that her service was to be of different nature than her previous missions. Rather than being tasked with killing the enemies of a given Sith, or performing various violent tasks on their behalf, she was to be serving them in quite the literal sense.

Specifically, serving them wine, food, and various other refreshments!

To prepare for the task, Ellissanthia had spent most of the last three days in training, learning the basics of hospitality. She had practiced balancing plates and drinks, greeting guests, operating the various dispenser machines, and more. Thus, when the day arrived, the Undine was ready. Gracefully balancing a tray on her palm, she slid effortlessly between the assembled guests, offering wine and whiskey. She caught sight of the Wolf ( Gerwald Lechner ) and gave him a polite bow before extending her tray up towards him. He accepted the latter drink, which the Undine made a quiet note of.

Tapping her wrist-mounted datapad, she sent a ping for a servant to come back in a couple minutes to collect his empty cup.

From there, Ellissanthia continued to glide amongst the guests. She caught sight of her reflection in one of the windows, her eyes taking in the dark, high-collared outfit that disciplined her voluptuous silhouette. It was the subtle padding on her shoulders, the tailored bodice, and the fitted black gloves that lent her appearance an air of restrained anonymity.

Though, she quietly wondered if anyone here might still recognize her.

It was then that her attention shifted towards the courtyard as the shadows parted before her eyes. Her breath caught within her chest as two towering, dark-clad figures emerged.

The Eternal Father and the Shadow Hand!

A faint, involuntary tremble ran through Ellissanthia’s body as two Dyarchs were announced by the master of ceremonies. All the while, her lips parted to form a silent ‘O’. Fortunately, those were the only outward signs of the insuppressible faith which threatened to overwhelm her. Discipline held the Undine together, a dam against the torrent of her devotion that screamed for her to fall to her knees, break into tears, fall into a fit of prayer, or worse, spill her drinks!

Through conscious effort, she settled her features into a mask of serenity. Then, moving forward, she approached the two Dyarchs and lowered herself into a deep, reverent curtsy before them.

“Lords of the Kainate,” she began, her voice coming almost as a pronouncement. “Star-Eater of the Faithless and God of the Graves...” Ellissanthia paused. The Undine neither flinched nor breathed, even as the sheer weight of their combined presence pressed down upon her soul.

“Might this one offer you a drink?”

 

[Elane II of Kuat]

​

Sith-Imperial Tag Channel: Might be Open

From her position on the balcony, Lady Elane watched the spectacle with her single eye. Observation served as a formidable tool within the Sith Order, and those who overlooked the subtle variations in body language and speech patterns could swiftly lose their status and be discreetly ousted from prime territory.

The Dark Lords were fickle beings whose temperaments could shift in an instant, and even in the secure confines of the Dark Council, the Lords were maneuvering for advantage now that Darth Malum and Darth Empyrean had disappeared into the netherworld.

"Its quite rare to see so many Sith Lords in one place, and equally impressive that none of them have started boasting about how they were the ones to single-handily pushback the Galactic Empire from Atrisia, or to take credit for the destruction of the Alliance's naval power." She muttered to herself in a notably dry tone, with a hint of venom in every word, gripping the end of her cane for support even while seated.

The Mandalorian Empire had established itself as a valuable ally to the Sith Order; however, the question remains: how long will this alliance endure with figures like Darth Carnifex still alive, the annihilator of Mandalore and the perpetual adversary of their civilization.

To disregard such a deep-seated wound would be completely uncharacteristic and perhaps even strange, yet such considerations should not concern her. Elane had secured her own personal domain with minimal opposition from the Order, although she frequently found herself relegated to the role of an observer amidst the constantly changing circumstances.

In her they saw a functionary, a mere keeper of accounts and not the main reason as to why the Sith Order was not currently drowning in debts. She would let them believe their strength was absolute, that the Force and fury alone commanded respect and authority. A faint, dry cough escaped her lips as her gloved hand tightened on the balustrade.

This celebration was a marketplace like any other, and the currency was influence. When a Dark Lord boasted of a new campaign, she calculated its cost. When another sought the Empress's ear, she assessed their debt. They were building their victories on her credit.

She was on equal footing; they simply refused to acknowledge the ground she stood on. Her territory might not survive a direct assault, but it could strangle their ambitions with a single, well-placed foreclosure. A silent war required a different kind of warlord. Turning from the balcony, a cool smile touched her lips.

 

[Trayze Tesar]

---

CURRENT MISSION - Children, Protection, and Services
Immediate Goals -
1: Re-establish himself with allies.
2: Make good on promises
3: Enjoy the festivities (optional)

---

BLUFOR - Quinn Varanin || Srina Talon || Darth Strosius || Lina Ovmar || Revna Marr || Elane II of Kuat

OPFOR - Kainite et al.

TARGETING ACTION(S) - BLUFOR (ideally) & OPEN COMMS

---

This was not entirely his idea.

A million myriad factors at play, where he would have done differently, either in altering the venue itself or his presence within it. But the Kiffar had long known that he didn't control the whole of the Galaxy - and doing things on his own would not always get him what he wanted. Like a shaggered ghost, despite his hair combed to somewhat civilized tendrils, his beard trimmed to a box that a scarred lip scowled forth from - a forced reaction that, in combination with burgundy eyes that were muted in mournfulness gave him the look of a well-worn wardog, who sulked and would much rather be anywhere but here.

He hated politics, detested his peers in a way unlike the acceptable sadomasochism that permeated the ways of the Sith, and did not deserve to stand with those who defended the Empire that were being lauded to day. He had been... occupied.

Bogan above he did not want to be here.

His shaggy shadow lingered in the coattails of his betters, for Darth Strosius would know that unlike Lina Ovmar , he came alone - but not for the sake of himself. After the assault on Alviria, Trayze had arbitrarily decided himself to be a more immediate protector of the children of Ansisa - in spite of any protestations. Whenever he wasn't working, he would look after the children - playing, talking to them, teaching what lessons he could impart.

Being there as they wept tears open and silent, joined with his own, whenever they asked when their father - his lordly cousin - would return.

He wanted to be there, for their sakes. To show Quinn Varanin and the whole of the Imperial Family that the least of them would fight for something more, if given dignity - that there were passions deeper than malice, loves deeper than lust, the fire of life brighter than the soul-devouring Force the Jedi cleave to. That he would do better, do more...

But how?

He would decide, should the Dread Lady grace these halls, to have a moment of her time... if she would let him. The only times she'd spoken to him was when he boldly asked how the bloody hell did she manage to maintain a healthy relationship at the pinnacle of Sith, helping resuscitate her daughter, and more recently plop the newest additions of the Marr dynasty into Imperial Wardship.

Perhaps Strosius would have felt Trayze briefly grasp the hem of his cloak before they entered, before the cameras shone - an old superstition, to touch those acquainted with the divine to send forth power on their behalf. Perhaps the Prophet of Bogan would recognize a prayer, for the health of the Emperor and Empress, and for the strength for what he would need to do.

For now, the Kiffar lingered, regarding all who sat near the head of the table - though his eyes softened as he gazed beyond and away from the throng of spectacle.

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Jutrand
Tags: Renn Vizsla | Eenia Vahn | Open
Wearing: Warden Beskar'gam

The feast was just as much spectacle as celebration. Even clad in blue Warden beskar'gam with silver accents, Adelle still felt like she needed more protection here. It also felt like it fit the vibes: this was a celebration of martial victory after all. Towering columns of black marble rose up around the courtyard like bars to a cage, red torchlight catching the edges of runes carved into their abyssal surface. Fountains gurgled and sprayed water stained blood red. The scents of finely cooked food perfumed the air while braziers gave off both ambient and thematic lighting. Somehow the flames here felt different than the fires of Mandalore.

Adelle stood with the Mandalorian delegation, helmet clipped to her belt similarly to the Warden of Roon, Renn Vizsla. While she hadn't been on the third Death Star herself, she'd been patching up the Mandalorians that had stormed the superweapon. Her mismatched eyes took in the courtyard, the scenery, the terrace that held thrones and demanded attention. Firelight flickered over the scars on the left side of her face, giving them a harsher appearance than normal. Between the servants in black and the banners of red and silver, the blue of her armor felt jarringly out of place. She leaned over to her fellow Healer, Eenia Vahn .

"Black is flattering on anyone," she murmured, "but I could never be a Sith. Red's just not my color."

Perhaps a poor attempt at humor, but she'd be lying if she wasn't at least a little uncomfortable. The Dark Side had a smothering pressure that weighed down on the soul here, its oil-slick taint in the Force icier than Hoth itself. In spite of that, she didn't bother to hide her presence here. She was Mandalorian: if anyone had a problem with it, they could take it up with the people that invited them.

 

[Eenia Vahn]

​

TAG: Adelle Bastiel | Renn Vizsla
Wearing: [X]


This was not a place that Eenia had ever pictured herself being, and certainly not under such grandiose circumstances. A celebration of something that she had not personally been involved with, and yet had been invited along to regardless. It had set her stomach in knots, feeling like stones that may get lodged and incapacitating at any given moment. And not for the reasons that some other Force sensitive bodies may be feeling.

No, Eenia knew all about the nature of the darker side of the Force. She had fallen down that hole when her life was at its most harsh and cruel, and she understood first hand the power and freedom it had to offer.

The very thought made a shiver race along the line of her spine, and she brought the drink in her hand to her lips for a sip that would hopefully both satisfy and quell the sensation. She had clawed her way back from those personally dark depths, and had come out on the other side stronger and more confident in herself. Enough so that she had agreed to come to this fancy shindig after all.

When she was spoken to, a smile even tugged at one corner of the blonde's mouth, and she folded one arm while the other kept her glass poised. “Yours nor mine either one.” She agreed, gladly taking the attempt at humor and running with it. “Purple perhaps, or even a dark shade of pink? But no,” Nia's head shook. “Never red.”

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Open
Location: Jutrand
Objective: Dinner And A Show
Outfit

Breathe. Stay calm. Those were the main thoughts going through the Ersansyr's mind as she stood amongst the Courtyard of the Palace, sipping away at some sweet little drink. The light of the Brazier's danced in the reflection of Reina's gaze as she tried to figure out why she was even here herself. She had been part of the battle of Atrisia, but hadn't served either side. Reina had went over her own affairs. Sure, she had aided a Mandalorian...Perhaps the most worrying aspect for Reina however was that she didn't feel as truly out of place as she had expected. She passed her glass off to a waiting servant before deciding to inspect the food that was on offer.

"Mhm...Even I can see how exotic some of this is...I wonder who they hire for their seafood."

To think this is where some people thought would have been best for Reina to grow amongst. Amidst darkness and hidden knives, as opposed to the Light and opened arms. Neither of them worked for her if she was honest to herself. The redhead brushed her dress down for a moment, taking in a steadying breath. There was a part of her that had wondered if she should dress up as she did for the DeathDrop, the persona she had for when she did jobs for the Sith but today she had decided to step out of her comfort zone. Dresses. Already she was regretting it. Wearing a secure suit of armour was better than feeling so exposed.

As she started to fill her plate with a variety of food (mostly leaning towards seafood), Reina's gaze drifted off towards the Balcony. She could only imagine the type of people who were up there. Be it from her nightmares or her dreams. The words that surely were being shared, the promises that were being made. Plenty of politics that would have flown over Reina's head. With that being thought, Reina made her way off to where she had been stood, listening to the orchestra with a raised eyebrow. She couldn't deny how good they were, but it made sense they'd only hire the best. The Ersansyr tapped her heel against the ground in tune with the music, humming quietly away to herself. This was at least better than most celebrations she had been to...or maybe she had just grown to enjoy them more.

​

 

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective // Head of the Table // To be of Service //
// Focus // CT-312 // Quinn Varanin // Srina Talon // Gerwald Lechner // Mercy // Darth Strosius // Lina Ovmar // Irina Jesart // Madrona A’Mia // All Present //
// Attire //

---

---

The feast had drawn all sorts of Sith from out of the corners of their Order, gnawing at the bit for a chance to please the Empress and the Dark Councillors. They sought to better their station in the way that Sith knew best, appealing to a power higher than themselves.

It was a tried and true way of the Sith, but simply watching such worms crawl to the ground and pray for rainfall made the Echani's stomach churn. Those that avoided such degradation might actually find themselves enjoying the celebration, taking in drink and food bountiful enough to feed more than enough.

Then again, Sith were not the only thing that gnawed tonight.

Mandalorians.

The word alone did little to calm Jorryn's stomach as she saw the helmeted figures crawling around such ceremonial grounds. The moment would have been more joyous without them, and yet it was the Empress herself that had invited the warriors. For the sake of nobility the Echani would stomach them for the night, though from a distant silence.

Such observation fit her role.

Tonight, she was draped in servitude, wrapping her spirit much the way the black dress covered her figure. She attended as Quinn Varanin 's handmaiden during the celebration, a role she took up a few times since her resurrection. It allowed a closeness to the main table, though shadowed in the distance. No light would illuminate her face as the Empress spoke, yet Srina Talon 's words would caress her ears unclouded.

The table that would host the councillors and the Empress sat in front of her, still awaiting its main features. The Echani's job was simply to attend the needs of those that gathered at the place, to serve them as selflessly as needed.

There was a preference that the Echani couldn't shake even bearing the role of submission, hoping that her services would be exclusively to the Houses Varanin, Talon, and Lutris. But a dull pain in the back of her mind affirmed that those would not be the only ones to arrive to those seats.

A small comfort stood in the shadows next to her at least. CT-312 continued her duty as Quinn's head of security, a visored gaze watching to ensure none dared to venture too close to the empty table or harass those that would come to be seated there. They had met on a few occasions, and it irritated the Echani that even in such an important event the woman remained in her camouflaged attire.

Why do you need camo at a celebration?

She found herself unintentionally gnawing at her own lip as she stared at the distasteful attire, hoping just once that the trooper would heed her advice. Jorryn had even offered to fit the girl with a custom suit for the evening, only to be turned away with a passive ignorance.

"Surely black would have done just as well tonight?" The thoughts parted her lips as she spoke, unable to contain her opinion. "Or is part of you job detail to attack the eyes of would-be assailants before the ever neared they mark?"

 

[Darth Strosius]

​

Tags: Lina Ovmar / Madrona A’Mia / Trayze Tesar / Open!
--------------------------------------------

"A crate of very expensive wine you mean." He corrected with a huff, grumbling something beneath His breath as she patted His arm. There was only one, and just the one, bright side of this whole wretched affair and He'd never admit to it. Thankfully His mask could somewhat hide His gaze whenever it shifted from glowering at other attendees to regarding the stunning appearance of Lady Ovmar. But of course she couldn't know that, she was smug enough as it was.

Even if it was a remarkably good look on her. "I'd rather have a Shikkar buried in my side if its all the same." At the mention of dancing as an escape, Darth Strosius did fix her with a more direct gaze as though to measure her expression. Mostly to see if she was actually being serious. Tempting, too tempting. "Sith do not dance, Lin-Lady Ovmar." He hid the brief stutter with a clearing of His throat, forcing His gaze away from her before she could muddle His thoughts any further.

Aside from Lady Ovmar herself, He did still have one other slight companion for the evening. Of a sort anyway. Darth Strosius spared a glance towards where Trayze had positioned himself, in a place to overlook the assembling parties and attendees without being too conspicuous himself. He did stand out somewhat from the crowd but no more than the masked man did, and regardless most of the more scrutinizing eyes were flickering towards the Mandalorians at the event anyway.

They hadn't had the chance to speak before arriving and needing to keep up appearances but He knew that Trayze would undoubtedly be just as watchful and cautious as He was, a small consolation that He took some solace in. A comfort that evaporated the moment He caught sight of a tall figure moving towards Him and Lady Ovmar in the corner of His gaze, a very familiar figure indeed. Whatever color was left within His hidden pale features drained then.

As expected Lady Madrona couldn't resist commenting on their shared dance at the last celebration that Darth Strosius had been lured to, an unusual trend that was starting to become more common it seemed, which He bristled at yet couldn't refute. Mostly due to having to crane His head up to regard her properly. "It would seem that Lady Ovmar shares a similarly sadistic compulsion as yourself, Lady Madrona." He responded with a slight bow of His head in greeting, His tone rather neutral yet with the slightest hint of levity. "That of dragging me to such...obscene events as this." The idea of the two of them conspiring together was nothing short of terrifying, but of course He couldn't let that show.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

Gerwald Lechner Srina Talon Darth Strosius Lina Ovmar Madrona A’Mia Irina Jesart Mercy Elane II of Kuat Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Trayze Tesar Quinn Varanin
Dress for the Occasion
​

While she had not really participated in the events around Atrisia, besides the very brief summoning she had responded to in the dead of night to go find the situation was already well in hand and she could simply go back to her wife and her bed, celebrating the victory there had drawn the Lady of Secrets to Jutrand. If she was honest, she didn't particularly care too much about the victory as it had merely been a humiliation for the Core Imperials that they had failed to destroy Atrisia, an entire system of worlds she thought better off as a debris field given all the headaches it had caused in her lifetime, although it had likely accelerated the final fragmentation of the Galactic Alliance. They had suffered even more losses to their fleet forces and prestige, evidence by the fact that it had taken the Sith Empire and its... Mandalorian allies and the Imperial Confederation to turn the tide. Her sources within the Senate were sure that the collapse was imminent and then... then they would need to make some decisions.

So, there she sat, a conjured tea pot near at hand and a cup in front of her as she forewent any of the alcoholic beverages, a sleek black dress of shimmersilk adorning her that her wife could never get enough of her wearing. The balcony table overlooking the rest of the party offered a chance to watch as others arrived or caroused beneath, but she wasn't interested in such frivolities. Besides, as she spied her oldest ally and the cloak he wore, she likely would have equally thinly veiled feelings towards the Mandalorians present, and it was best that a Dark Councilor not cause a diplomatic incident. Her tolerance was bought by her respect for the Empress, and she understood she had close ties to the Verds and their new empire, but tolerance was all it would buy. Her disdain towards Mandalorians was well documented after what she had lost to them decades ago now.

No, she was far more interested in what would occur at this table and the discussions that would follow. Political maneuverings and plots were forming, new alliances and factions rising to replace some old ones. She wouldn't mourn the Tsis'Kaar being carved up, given her beliefs that they had helped cause more of the internal tensions within the Sith than solved them, but it meant new players were joining the game or wanting to cause trouble as they sought power. The Trouble Triplets and their alliance was evident of that, as well as her gaze would find Strosius being cajoled by Lina Ovmar and A'mia Madrona.

Tonight might prove interesting once all the players came to the table, and she would continue her silent observations, teacup in hand, and wait for opportunities.

 

[Korda Veydran]

The courtyard was alive with noise—laughter, clinking glasses, murmured conversations—but Korda Veydran moved through it like a shadow at the edge of a fire. He arrived late, as always, armor polished but unadorned beyond the usual marks of his battles. His helmet hung from his belt, swinging slightly with each measured step. "Typical. Everyone else already carved their positions, while I stroll in as if the world can wait," he thought, lips twitching into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk.

A passing server offered a drink; he snagged it without breaking stride. The amber liquid caught the torchlight, and he swirled it idly, scanning the crowd. "So many faces. Mandalorians, Sith, and the rest, all playing their games. Do they even notice me?" His eyes flicked from one group to another, sharp, calculating, though his expression remained calm—almost bored.


He took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle in his chest. "Patience. Always patience. Let them squabble. Let them reveal themselves. One misstep…" The thought lingered just long enough to draw a slight edge to his smirk, then he let it fade. For now, he was simply a man among many, helmet off, drink in hand, watching, waiting, and planning his next move.

Objective: echos in the courtyard
Tags: Open

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Naniti
​

Lysander’s orbs flicked to hers for a moment, and the faintest lift of his brow marked the acknowledgment. He let it pass without words before moving forward. Surrounding them, the fragrance of roasting meats, spiced fruits, and warm bread wove through the air, tugging constantly at the edges of his awareness. His boots slid easily over the stone terrace, and he subtly adjusted his pace to match hers. Faces were noted along the way, still searching, though he never stared long enough to draw attention.

Then, before them, spread one of the tables, promising indulgence. There were platters of fowl sat alongside trays of spiced fruits and golden pies. Goblets of dark, rich wines lined the edge, and chilled water waited for those who preferred restraint. A smile touched his lips, softening the formality that clung to him. A single hand swept along the edges, not daring to touch, an invitation for her to pick first.

A familiar scene for him, to be sure. Countless tables, countless banquets, more than he could count. But at least there was a spark of curiosity for how she might take it all in, which dish might catch her first, the way reacted when they savored something new. If anything, it was a rare moment of lightness from the duty that clung to both of them.

“Some like to start with the savory.” He nodded toward the roast of fowl. “Others are drawn to something lighter first. Fruit, perhaps, to wake the senses. You can't go wrong with a little of everything.” Another faint smile blossomed along his lip. “Start with what speaks to you, even if it's all tempting. I'll follow your lead."

A quiet breath escaped him. “There's no rush,” he added softly. “A chance to enjoy something a little different from the Academy's usual fare."

After raising a goblet with grace, he allowed the wine to dance upon his lips with a thoughtful sip. The glass then returned to the table, followed by a nod that suggested approval. For a breath of time, his fingers rested around the stem, while his thumb traced the rim.

"Some of these pies look like they were baked to impress the Empress herself."

The thought amused him. No matter how many tables one saw, there was always that one dish that made him pause.

 

[Lirka Ka]

OBJECTIVE - HEAD OF THE TABLE
TAGS - Gerwald Lechner Srina Talon Darth Strosius Lina Ovmar Madrona A’Mia Irina Jesart Mercy Elane II of Kuat Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Trayze Tesar Quinn Varanin

Opulence. The Sith gorged themselves on victory - Lirka couldn't particularly blame her kind for the open revelry. There was a certain gleeful gluttony that came with victory, a proud defiance in the face of a foe that failed to best oneself. For Lirka's own part, it was a crowd that fanned the flames of political ambition but stabbed at the heart of faith like a rusty shiv. The Imperator of the Third Legion did not exactly indulge herself in much but nutrient paste and her own foul chemical concoction of spice to abide by her odd and hypocritical ascetism - primarily, she only indulged herself in bloodshed and violence, and the bout upon both Fiviune with the newly birthed dark triad calling themselves "Dzara" and the bloody battle against the Core-Interlopers at Atrisa had proved that much.

The Imperator had leveraged her forces in mass frontal assault upon the planet-killer: the deaths were high, for all parties. But life was a thing to be expended and used to one who had dabbled in the cruel craft of Slaving for so many years. There was a silent amusement Lirka found in it all - it had not been all that long ago, she was just another monster in the menagerie. An all but forgotten footnote from the chronicles of the mass butchery laid upon the Mandalorians by Darth Carnifex and Darth Prazutis with Lirka as their cruel instrument that had reappeared as little more than a brutish instrument lashing out against the Galaxy, a wayward child of the Sith trapped away in Wild Space upon a derelict burning her crusading path with little more than wrath and scrap.

But they knew her now. Be it reviled, tolerated, or adored. The Once-Sephi had clawed her way to sit among the gathered sorts at the balcony - even if in her black hearts Lirka did rather prefer to keep away from an Empress's eyes.

Of course, for all of it. This was quickly to become a show with the presence of the Mandalorians. Despite the rather high stack of skulls from the Moridinae days - she did not hold the rats any particularly strong ill will like the rest of the Old Guard of the Sith did, their deaths were nothing but another step upon her Dark Path. Tragedy bred strength, and misery brought transience. Their guests would have no trouble from her...now any of the others? Well, tact was a fickle trait among Sith it seemed. Especially once her slit lenses glanced off to the presence of Darth Strosius - yes. Today would be interesting indeed.

The Imperator kept a rather plain casualness for now, the closest she had gotten to "dress clothes" being the red half-cape draped across one of her Powersuit's shoulder pads - despite the mighty bulk of her "second skin" Lirka had decided to be another face in the crowd for now. Watchful eyes gleaming over the assembly on the hunt for anything interesting, amusing, or possibly both. At least till it came time to play politics, that was.

 

[Selene Valeheart]

Head of the Table

Wearing: Link
Tags: Gerwald Lechner | Irina Jesart

Selene felt incredibly out of place, had been since Gerwald had officially taken her on as one of his apprentices. But during that short time between now and then, Selene made sure to bury those thoughts deep into a pit. She was amongst Sith now after all, she couldn’t afford to show any weakness that could be potentially exploited.

The young woman moved at an even pace with the Sith Lord, following him as he moved amongst the elite that had gathered. Selene’s face remained stoic as she glanced around, memorizing the important faces, and those they surrounded themselves with. Her attention snapped back as a servant approached, offering drinks. Gerwald had chosen a whiskey, while Irina opted for the wine.

For a moment Selene hesitated on following suit, but opted to grab a glass of wine herself. Wouldn’t do her any good to come across rude, not accepting hospitality from the host.

Selene had not joined Irina in dressing up for the event. Rather opting for something more traditional/formal. A high-collared garb that was adorned with a light amount of armour. A mix of black and red, with gold accents that matched her Master’s choice of attire. The young apprentice did muse over the thought that she probably looked more like a bodyguard than anything else right now.

But she did admittedly feel comfortable wearing it.

“You’d hardly think such a major conflict had only just ended.” Selene mused to herself more than anyone else. Glancing down, her gaze washed over the assembled crowds below. Somehow being lost down amongst them seemed more favourable than remaining up here.

Until Gerwald said otherwise, Selene would remain here as a dutiful apprentice.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: OPEN //:
//: Attire //:

Quinn had arrived with Jorryn Fordyce and CT-312 . The pair seemed to have other plans for the evening, so when she had the moment, she said her goodbyes and moved toward where she needed to be. As much as everyone was happy and excited for the victory, the Echani Princess was anything but. All she had wanted was to find her place — but that felt farther away than ever.

Surrounded by allies, she felt alone, and she had to look upon the disgusting armor that had haunted her dreams as a child. A part of her hated this alliance, despite having wanted to craft it herself. Maybe it was both — her past, and the fact that it wasn't she who had achieved it. Another failure added to the growing pile.

Familiar faces laughed and made merry as they grabbed food and flutes of champagne. They had fended off the joke of an Emperor and his band of Imperials. Again, Quinn had nothing to do with that; she had busied herself with a relic of the past — one she still needed to learn to move beyond.

Those close to her would feel the annoyance in her presence; everyone else saw only an image of perfection — a princess, an heir, someone upon whom the Empire could place its pride.

Quinn gripped the fabric of her dress as she lifted it slightly, allowing herself to glide gracefully through the gathering crowds. People nodded, smiled, and greeted her with poise and respect. She laughed and offered polite pleasantries in return.

Once she had made it through the crowd, Quinn climbed the vast stairs that led to the balcony. It was here that the high and mighty displayed their station within the Empire and the Mandalorians. At least here, she could hide. People would be busy speaking with the Empress and the Council. Quinn could sulk alone, like the spoiled child she sometimes feared she was.

She moved toward the balcony as the rest of the party gathered and spoke of their glories. Quinn ignored them and leaned against the railing, watching the people below gather and dance. Her eyes followed their movements, and she wondered if the events before this might have gone differently had she allowed herself to enjoy the evening more.

As much as Quinn didn't want to, her mind drifted in wonderment at a certain handmaiden. Quinn was never allowed to enjoy, and that fateful evening reminded her of it.

Her smile faltered for just a moment, and the sadness that plagued her echoed across her perfect, porcelain face. Quinn caught herself, remembering her place and the importance of her station. The smile returned as she carefully watched the dancers, her head resting against her hand.

She saw a few familiar faces among the crowd, but she kept to herself, wondering if any of them cared enough to come speak with her. If they didn't, that was fine. She was here because she had to be.

It was her duty — her place in this Empire.

Spoiler: tags

Aerik Lechner Srina Talon Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Lina Ovmar Gerwald Lechner Madrona A’Mia Mercy Darth Strosius Reina Daival Lirka Ka Trayze Tesar Sorry if I forgot anyone

 

[Naniti]

Naniti's eyes slowly slid over the spread out before them. Her attention moved slowly over the meats, fruits, and beverages on display; a deliberate effort to hide just how unfamiliar the scene was. There was a tendency to have one's eyes bounce all over the place since they didn't catch half of what lay before them on the first place. The Togruta didn't want people to see that and know just how out of place she was. Which was why she'd chosen the outfit she had. It was not something an Acolyte wore.

The Imposter Syndrome was very real because she was certainly posing as more than the crowd would see her if they only knew better.

Lysander was polite in how he stayed by his side and seemed to restrain himself. He really did know how to move through this scene best. How often did he attend such things? For what purpose? Naniti wondered, but she wouldn't pry. Unless the conversation naturally took that turn.

"I believe I will try a little of everything. I wouldn't want the Chef to feel unappreciated." A good excuse, right? It'd be an opportunity to try a few new things. Fruit was fruit, and more of a palette cleanser and stomach aid, but everything else could have novel flavoring worth sampling. It was right there for the taking so why not?

"And if it makes the usual fare all the more insufferable, I'll blame you," Naniti replied softly. An easy glance lifted from the table to her companion. It probably would at first. Lamenting the loss of something this grand. Even if she pillaged nearby communities it wasn't going to measure up to an Imperial feast. At least that's what she assumed. Didn't matter though; better to have the memory than not.

After Lysander took a drink, the Togruta looked up at him. There was a hint of approval to his demeanor. She should sample that as well if it was that good. Even the drink would stand apart.

"What kind of pie do you like most?" she asked as she finished gathering small samples of the food onto a plate.

With that, she watched to see if Lysander was going to make his own plate. Not because she needed him to check if it was poisoned, but because he should enjoy it as much as she did. He couldn't have unusually strict dietary requirements considering he shared a meal at the Academy. If he refrained, she might need to verbally prod him or perhaps even make a small plate for him.

"I feel like I'm taking advantage of you, Lysander. Maybe that's a skill our kind is supposed to learn, but I think there's an exception for close allies." Was that what they were? She had no real relationship to compare it to, besides her Master, but that was a low bar. "Are you going to ask me to dance to return the favor?"

Lysander von Ascania

 

[Valaine Valentine]

Tags - Quinn Varanin | Open

Another party. Gosh did Valaine find herself in so many parties lately. Sometimes the crowd was one that'd kill her, sometimes it was people she didn't know at all, others it was amongst people she felt she just plain didn't fit in with. This time? This time it was the latter. She'd found herself a quiet balcony to loom at for a while, perhaps waiting for someone, perhaps just killing time. Whatever the reason she'd slinked up there to get out of the general eye of others.

She sighed softly as she leaned on the edge of the balcony as she scrolled through her datapad with a lazy flick of her finger. In truth she didn't even really know what the feast was about, she just sort of showed up to these places; invited or otherwise. She leaned back away from the balcony with a gentle sigh as she gave a stretch of her arms. She was getting used to dresses, getting used to having her hair tied in a single thick braid, but it still felt relatively uncomfortable for her.

Her sharp Sangnir senses then picked up the sound of someone approaching. She wasn't ready for social interactions just yet, she wasn't ready to have an awkward conversation with someone for why she was lurking up on the balcony by herself. Was she even allowed to be up here? Nobody had stopped her but just in case she best try and slink away; because that was the most normal thing to do in a situation like this obviously.

She stepped away from the edge of the balcony and moved to press her back up against the wall besides the small arch that led to it, with any luck whoever was coming would just walk right on by and she could sneak away like she was never there in the first place. It was then that she watched Quinn make her way to the railing, she seemed... Frustrated? Upset? Maybe just lonely.

Valaine hadn't got a good look at her face when she entered but something about her struck as familiar... Had she seen her somewhere before? Was she some kind of celebrity? Maybe her image was plastered on the side of a ship? After a pause of awkwardly considering these things while stood behind her she swallowed down her concern and let her voice be known, "Hey uhh... You want me to just like, leave you to it ooooor...?" she asked.

​

​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Lowly beasts require a firm hand, but they are as quick to forget the instructions of their masters just as they are slow to learn them. The bestial beating of their hearts is irksome to me, would that I could hammer a collar of beskar and place it all about the necks of their descendants and forefathers alike." Rare was it for the Dark Lord's tone to rise above measured placidity, but this time each word spoken was like a drip of venom from a viper's fang. "That they yet draw breath is done so without my consent, it is abominable."

His eyes again crept back up to where the Empress sat, this time meeting and holding a knowing gaze across the gulf of the revelry between them. It lasted long, and smoldered even longer. The Dark Lord was the first to break eye contact, looking back to Prazutis. "I will have to speak with her, I have not since before Atrisia. There is much that must be discussed, all that I have learned and experienced must be relayed. But not here, it is too open. Too many eyes, too many ears, too many mouths."

"Lords of the Kainate," came the deferential voice, spoken from between two lush, plump lips of satin silver. The Dark Lord had to glance down to meet their gaze, like a hammer swinging down onto an anvil in both weight and intensity. She wore the tight, form-fitting attire of a servant. The curvaceous nature of her physical appearance was exceptionally exaggerated by her uniform, each and every curve accentuated to it's maximum degree. He instantly recognized her for one of His own, the name Ellissanthia blossoming in His mind as He plucked her face from His memory.

"Star-Eater of the Faithless and God of the Graves," addressing not one, but both, of the Dyarchy was dangerous, but the conviction and worship in her eyes did not diminish even as they jointly cast their sight upon her. "Might this one offer you a drink?"

Carnifex stretched out with His armored hand, talons reaching down to idly caress the bluish purple hair which cascaded down from Ellissanthia's scalp. The bladed edges of each finger left their mark upon her, an idle trickle of blood welling up from where it cut the skin. Strands of severed hair also fell aside, though what had been lost was not noticeable amidst the purple locks that remained.

"Child of the Eclipse," He intoned, voice like the ringing of a hundred bells. "A drink is acceptable." He then plucked it from her tray with the same grace and composure as one would snatch a flower from a field, holding it betwixt His index and thumb as He drew it up to His lips and drank. Alcohol did nothing for Him anymore, but the taste was pleasant and lingered on His tongue even as He finished. He then returned the glass.

"Ellissanthia," her name cut through all other sounds as it was pronounced, "Enlighten me to your thoughts of this gathering. Your Eternal Father would hear what words an Eclipse Adept might otherwise withhold."

Darth Prazutis | Ellissanthia | Srina Talon ​

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Valaine Valentine Quinn Varanin
Location: Jutrand
Objective: Head of The Table
Outfit

More sips of her fruity little drink, alongside a few nibbles of her food. The place was certainly kicking off in her opinion. Less elaborate than a masquerade but at the same time, it still oozed fanciness. Some could say polite society, looking from the outside. Her gaze continued to linger on the balcony, wondering who might have been up there. There was a part of her, even knowing the types of people who would be up there, that wanted to be amongst them. To be someone known. For others to be careful around. To be feared...By the Spirit, she did truly make for a terrible Jedi. Some would even say a Terrible Friend. She shook her head, trying not to put any more weight to that thought before she stopped mid-sip.

Because Reina had saw Her. The Ersansyr's gaze kept flickering from the balcony, and back to the woman stepping through the crowd. She had expected Quinn to already be up there. There was a jealous part of Reina's brain, the one that was annoyed by how good the Princess could look in a dress, whilst Reina herself felt like a Wampa shoved into a bunch of fabric. The jealousy actually caught Reina off guard for a moment, she had never normally bothered over something as simple as appearance. The jealousy was quickly replaced with admiration however. She knew there would be others watching Quinn, others who would want to converse with her...

And so Reina made no sense to stop the Echani as she made her way up towards the Balcony. Confining herself to her thoughts for a moment, debating whether or not to be bold or stay where she knew her place was. Only to come to the decision that she wasn't even where her place was. And so if she was already out of place, she might as well go further. Out of the frying pan and into a fire one might say. A fish out of water as she handed her plate and glass off to a server and made her way over towards the Balcony.

Yet with each step, Reina felt as if gravity itself was pushing down on her. The pressure of the Dark Side weighed heavily on her. As if it was some kind of oily sludge she was having to wade her way through. The effects only increasing as she advanced, step by step. Reaching the top of the steps, the Ersansyr took in a few steady breaths, as her gills rippled ever so slightly. Doing her best not to look anyone else in the eyes, Reina scanned along, trying to figure out where she had went...Only to see two familiar faces. One she had expected, the one she had came up to see. The other...Not so much. Valaine?

Reina shrugged her shoulders, as she came to the conclusion that it made sense to see Valaine here. At least it made more sense than seeing her at some Light-aligned party. There was a sense of irony in the fact that the roles were reversed for once but Reina tried not to pay it any mind as she made her way over towards the pair, a slight smile growing across her face. It was partly forced, to try and make herself seem more comfortable than she actually was.

"I see you're getting used to dresses."

The Ersansyr gave Valaine a small nod of acknowledgement at that. She was less...hesitant about controlling her voice, in a large setting with plenty of noise. Letting the melodic nature of it sing for all who listened. The dress Valaine wore...It was a nice enough dress, though between the two...Was it any surprise that Reina leaned more towards Quinn's? She also turned her attention over towards Quinn, giving her a slight toothy grin...before her smile faded. Reina wasn't great with empathy, but there did seem to be something different about Quinn. Different compared to the time the pair had met previously. Though she was sure here was not the place to talk about it.

"And you're still as radiant as the Moon. It's...nice to see you again."

Was she meant to lower her head? Bow before Quinn? None of those were really Reina's kind of thing so she just gave a slight nod, before stepping closer towards Valaine, for reassurance.



​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The Shadow Hand didn't look at her at first. He watched the crowd's tide shift around Carnifex's words, the way laughter thinned, the way a hundred glances pretended not to be glances. The Lord of Lies listened to the venom cool on His nephew's tongue, and the iron of His mouth eased a fraction. "Then their breath persists." Prazutis murmured back to the Black Iron Tyrant, low enough to be a private eclipse between them, "Because for now, it is useful to us that it does. A thrashed mongrel remembers the hand that crushed it. It happened once. Wrath can be done unto them at any time. We will be prepared." Only then did He turn to the servant who had mastered herself beneath their gravity.

Ellissanthia.

Her curtsy was a vow in motion. The titles on her lips were knives honed to worship, and they fit His throat like old jewelry. The Undine held like black glass under pressure, shaken, not shattered. Discipline pleased Him more than zeal. His gaze traveled the line of her mask, austere collar, fitted gloves, the ritual anonymity of service, and paused where the Dark Lord's talons had kissed violet hair and skin. A filament bead of blood trembled along the cut and started its descent.

The Mortarch lifted His braced hand. The droplet struck the living blood iron and vanished as if remembering the way home. Red veins woke across the bracer like coals in a kiln, flared, and sank back to a resting hunger. The amulet at His throat warmed in answering sympathy, the chain's minute runes darkening as they drank the moment. He didn't make a spectacle of it. He simply allowed the night to understand to whom this woman belonged.

"Child of the Eclipse." He said, voice pitched so the stone would return it softened but larger "Your steadiness does you credit." He didn't take a cup. He hadn't come to be softened. "Pour for the Eternal Father." He inclined His head infinitesimally toward Carnifex, acknowledgment without surrender, ceremony without subservience, "And attend his questions." His attention slid past her, out across the rippling banners toward the silk sheltered terrace and the Empress who sat there like a decision yet to be spoken. When He spoke again, it was for the Undine, and for any ear refined enough to hear what was meant for her. Always the Mortarch was watching, everything all at once processed through eyes trained deeper than any Lorrdian could ever hope for.

"Answer him plainly." The Mortarch commanded, eyes returning to fix on Ellissanthia. "Not what courts prefer, what you see. Where the envy stands thickest. Where ambition pools and overflows its cup. Where fear eats too eagerly. Reveal all." A pause, thin as a blade's shadow. "Your Order was born to drink dark water without drowning. Do so now, and bring us its taste." He let the words settle, then added not a kindness but a permission. "If your hand shakes, let it be only when you set the tray down."

Prazutis angled his body slightly, allowing the Undine the clean space of a petitioner addressed and not merely tolerated. Under His breath, yet not so soft the night could claim it was never said, He returned to Carnifex, eyes still on Ellissanthia as if she were an augury held up to the torchlight. "When her telling is done, we continue." He intoned. "The Empress has her theater. We will have our conversation. Take in this evening she has prepared." Then, to Ellissanthia again, the weight of His gaze an anointing and a threat in equal measure.

"Speak."

Darth Carnifex | Ellissanthia | Srina Talon​

 

[Vakhari Lutris]

Tags: Reina Daival Valaine Valentine Quinn Varanin

Parties... She was expected to attend the event of course, what with her blood and all. But this place had something downright awful- PEOPLE! Everywhere! Skittering all over the place making noise... Oh hells, where did she-

The Arkainian peers around the room, uncaring if innocent bystanders were caught in her rather intrusive and inquisitive gaze. She was looking for Valaine, they both arrived here since if things got unpleasant they could always just go find somewhere to sit and eat together.

But do you know just how hard it is to find a specific person in this sea of noise and colour?

The girl spends a moment, thinking... Where would... Ah..

Instinctively she starts to inspect many little hideaways and corners, places she herself would hide away to avoid talking with people.

After some time she finally finds where Valaine went, perhaps she got just as lost as Vakhari did. However, the distinctive scent of coffee grew closer.

"There you are! Just about lost you in all this mess."

Ignoring the other two for a moment she of course has to plant a cozy hug right around her lover, the petite woman's grip a little tighter than usual... Perhaps a sign that she was just as overwhelmed.

After the very much needed hug, the doctor clears her throat before addressing the other two.

"Nice to see you again Quinn, looks like you have got to meet the cook."

During Quinn's visit to the lab, she had commented on how good Valaine's cooking was.

"Ah and hello again, this marks the third time we have met."

The doctor says to Reina, though wouldn't there first meeting would have been after that job? Perhaps the dots would begin to connect, not that Vakhari would mind...
​

"As for forgiveness? To me it depends, as with so many things in life we can't look at a black and white. We should look at the key details and decide from there, I have been practicing forgiveness myself."

The girl gives a simple yet playful grin.

"Oh hey-"

She then speaks to Valaine, looking up at her while holding onto a soft hug.

"Have youuuuu perhaps ate anything yet? I saw some spicy Epicanthix dumplings, we gotta try them before this is over."

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