Faction Feast of Shadows || SO Friends and Allies

[Darth Nefaron]

Pathetic.
​

It appeared to the Corpse Lord that the Sith had forgotten what the word "terror" truly meant if this gallery of children's frights was the best that could be offered. He had not intended to attend this macabre celebration, but he had his reasons for appearing from the shadow of the Anoat sector to join the greater Order once again. While his apprentice, as childish and full of ego as ever, joined the celebration, Nefaron had taken to the estate's treacherous halls to explore the collection of relics that had been turned into a guided series of scares. While many a noble Lord and Lady had taken to the path together to see if they could endure the barrage of terror, the Corpse Lord walked the path alone for a time.

He was, in fact, disappointed. ​

Illusions of terrible beasts, memories of the past brought to life, and even the sight of viscera were not nearly enough to move Nefaron. He might have hosted this celebration of his homeworld if not for the distaste that many Sith felt for his realm. Did the sight of thousands enslaved turn their stomachs? Or was it the endless abominations that lay in dark chambers, waiting to be unleashed? Or perhaps it was the Corpse Lord himself, magnificent in his terrible visage, that warded them away from the dead world of Anoat? Regardless, they would all endure the realities of Nefaron's kingdom one day, and then they would understand true terror.

Nefaron was about to turn back in disgust when he caught sight of something, a luminous being at the corner of his dead sight, lingering in a hall that did not seem part of the guided attraction. It took time for the being to take true shape, but its pale face was clear as day for the Corpse Lord.

"Hello, mother. Death suits you."

The woman's face did not change, bearing the same sad and mournful expression despite the nearness of her only son. Of course Nefaron knew this to be an illusion, for the woman who brought him into this galaxy died centuries ago at the blade of the man Nefaron considered to be his first teacher. Any nightmares that haunted him regarding his mother had long since dissipated, for the Corpse Lord no longer needed to sleep, nor feel bound to the false concept of love. Still, he stood before the apparition of a dead woman, his dead eyes meeting her ghostly orbs; perhaps they at last matched each other after so long, one of them long dead and the other stranded between life and death. Of course the illusion could not last, and soon enough the spirit was gone and the doors from which Nefaron entered slammed shut behind him, as did those at the other end of the hall. It appeared this was a trap of sorts, one that was not intended to be a part of the estate's offerings.

That was made abundantly clear when figures emerged from the shadows, cloaked and wielding various weapons.

Assasins.

"So who has sent you to die? Was it the Witch Queen of Korriban? That fool Strosius? Or did you simply see an opportunity to put an old man in his grave?"

Of course none of them spoke; they only moved to surround him and prevent an escape if he actually sought one. It had been no secret that Nefaron had been severely weakened following the battle of Thyferra, to the point that some even thought he had died as a result of the Jedi's pathetic weapon. It appeared someone wanted to finish the job they started, which explained the blade that plunged into the Corpse Lord's back, driven through so cleanly that it appeared out of his chest. Had this occurred a few weeks prior, Darth Nefaron might have truly died his final death.

But it was not. Nefaron was now more than a man.

He was a living blight.​

In one swift motion, the Corpse Lord's arms began to groan and snap as bones shifted and muscles tore. Before the assassin knew what was happening, the Corpse Lord's arms reached behind him to grab hold of his assailant's head, all but crushing his skull as the now-lifeless body crumpled to the ground. The other assassins, perhaps half a dozen, took a step back, realizing that the target they had been led to believe was at death's doorstep was reborn in terrible glory. Before they could react, the force flowed again through Nefaron's body to force the blade all the way through his flesh and out of his chest, flying with terminal speed into the chest of another assassin, the force all but pinning him to the door at the end of the chamber as he slowly expired from blood loss. Already, Nefaron's flesh began to heal, the horrid sound of flesh twisting and squelching as the Terror Lord's body repaired what little damage he had endured.

"Go on. Try again. He only hit my heart; perhaps one of you will deliver the final blow."

TAGS: OPEN
MENTIONED: Veradun Sharr Darth Strosius Revna Marr ​

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Objective I: The Black Masquerade
Location: Feast of Shadows, Thyferra
Interacting With: Siv Kryze | Garo Vevut-Varkor

Veyla raised her glass toward Siv in a small toast, amused by his assessment of the Sith's hospitality. So far, the evening had been considerably more pleasant than she had anticipated, and she was perfectly content to let that continue. His admission that he couldn't entirely abandon his habit of observing everyone hardly surprised her. She had caught herself doing much the same, though the wine and his company made it easier to see the festivities for what they were.

"I wouldn't expect you to stop watching everyone. I'd probably start worrying if you did." She took another sip of wine, her smile lingering as she considered his question. It was a thoughtful question, especially coming from someone with plenty of responsibilities of his own. For a moment, she glanced toward the dancers, gathering her thoughts before answering.

"I've been doing well, actually. Busy, certainly, but that's hardly anything new." She shrugged slightly. "The forge keeps me occupied, and there's always something that needs repairing, improving, or making from scratch. I enjoy the work, though. It's good to have something worthwhile to put my hands to." Her expression softened as she looked back at him. "And House Kryze has given me something I didn't realize how much I'd missed. A place to belong. I don't take that lightly, Siv."

She hadn't expected their conversation to get so personal, but she didn't mind. Siv had earned her trust, and she appreciated that his interest extended beyond whether she was fulfilling her responsibilities. "What about you? You spend so much time making sure everyone else has what they need. I hope you occasionally remember to look after yourself." The gentle teasing in her voice did little to conceal the sincerity behind the question.

As she glanced across the pavilion, her attention caught on a familiar sight among the extravagant costumes. A young Mandalorian with green skin and blond hair had found a relatively secluded corner, apparently preferring the quiet to the activity around him. His facial markings were distinctive, and she recognized the fellow Mandalorian beneath the unfamiliar appearance. He seemed rather out of place among the revelers, although she could hardly blame him for seeking somewhere less crowded.

"Speaking of people who might need rescuing from all this excitement..." She inclined her head toward the young man, a faint smile returning. "I think we've found someone who appreciates these gatherings even less than we do."

Veyla lifted her free hand in a friendly greeting, making no attempt to draw unwanted attention to him. "Su'cuy, vod! There's room over here if you'd prefer some company." She glanced back at Siv with an amused expression. "Perhaps we should make a habit of collecting Mandalorians who look like they'd rather be anywhere else."

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Objective I: The Black Masquerade
Location: Feast of Shadows, Thyferra
Interacting With: Varin Mortifer
Mention: Veradun Sharr

Seren's smile widened at Varin's suggestion that combat might be the best way to judge the costumes. She could already imagine the consequences of such a competition, particularly given the questionable practicality of some of the ensembles surrounding them. "I suspect that would eliminate half the contestants before anyone even drew a weapon. Some of these costumes look as though sitting down would be a considerable undertaking, let alone fighting." Her amber gaze followed his toward the more extravagant guests before returning to him, amusement lingering behind the crimson filigree of her mask. His questions about wine earned a more thoughtful expression, particularly the mention of a golden variety she had never encountered. "I tend to prefer reds, although I'm hardly opposed to trying something different. That golden wine sounds intriguing. Perhaps we should acquire a bottle and see whether its rarity is justified." Exploring unfamiliar vintages with Varin was certainly more appealing than spending another evening buried in ancient manuscripts, even if she would never admit the latter remained a perfectly respectable pastime.

She noticed the subtle change in him before he apologized, the brief tension in his expression and the way his attention shifted toward something beyond their conversation. Seren knew him well enough to recognize when something had disturbed him, though she didn't question it immediately. Instead, her awareness expanded almost unconsciously through the surrounding gathering, brushing against the overlapping presences of those enjoying the festivities. Dozens of unfamiliar signatures were there, some carefully concealed and others radiating enough power or emotion to stand out despite the crowded pavilion. Among them, however, was one she hadn't encountered in about a year. The recognition came unexpectedly, bringing back memories of a very different time in her life, when she was still finding her footing among the Sith and had briefly entertained the possibility of something more personal with Veradun Sharr. They had never quite crossed that threshold, and whatever might have developed between them had been left behind long before her relationship with Varin became what it was now.

For a moment, Seren wondered whether the familiar presence had anything to do with Varin's reaction. She knew the two men had met before, though she had no reason to assume Veradun's presence caused the momentary change in her companion. Nor did she intend to let an unexpected reminder of her past intrude on their evening. A year could alter a great deal, and she was hardly the same woman she had been when she last knew Veradun. Curiosity, certainly, about what had become of him during that time, but it carried none of the anticipation that might once have accompanied the prospect of seeing him again. Seren let the awareness settle without pursuing it, her attention returning to the man standing before her as the music swelled around them.

"You never need to apologize for wanting to dance with me, love," she answered warmly, accepting his invitation with a graceful nod. Their considerable height difference had never kept them from finding ways to be close, though she suspected the elaborate gown would need a little more attention than her usual attire. She stepped closer, letting the folds of crimson and black silk settle around her legs before placing one hand on his offered arm. "And since you've already demonstrated such excellent judgment in choosing the wine, I think it's only fair to give you the opportunity to impress me with something else." Her smile turned mischievous as she looked up into his masked face. "Though I should warn you, I have rather high expectations of a gentleman who claims dancing with me is simply part of his nature."

As they prepared to join the dancers, Seren let herself appreciate the unfamiliar pleasure of being here, with no obligation beyond enjoying Varin's company. The last time they had stood upon Thyferra, uncertainty and pain had overshadowed nearly everything else, leaving questions neither had entirely resolved. Tonight offered something different, a chance to share music, laughter, and the sort of ordinary intimacy that had become increasingly precious to her. Whatever complications might eventually arise from the familiar faces scattered throughout the masquerade could wait. She gave Varin's hand a gentle squeeze, her expression softening beneath the ornate mask. "Come then, my lord. Let's give everyone something considerably more pleasant to watch than another Sith trying to navigate the room beneath an enormous headdress."

 

[Sylor]

X
Kurayami Bloodborn Kaela Voss​

"A high bill amongst a gathering of Mando'ade and Sith come for revel and drink? Impossible." He joked, though the tone was flat, behind the rebreather mask the Corellian's signature smirk was in place as always. "My name? Kurayami Bloodborn. And yourself?"

Sylor smirked, giving him a simple nod. "We shall see by the end of this." He laughed, shaking his hand. "Kurayami, its a pleasure to meet you. Name is Sylor."

“Wait, is this not an open bar?” Kaela asked, not quiet seriously as she slid down the bar to the two human men, overhearing the comment about the open tab and emboldened by seeing that at least one of them was openly wearing the crest of the Mandolorian empire on his lapel. “I haven’t paid for a drop and no one’s stopped me yet.”

Sylor turned as Kaela had approached them, inquiring about the open bar, and how she's been drinking and hasn't been stopped, or charged.

"An open bar of sorts its seems, clearly if you haven't been stopped then, you seem to be doing well for yourself." He chuckled lightly looking between the two of them. "I'm Sylor, its nice to meet you?" He inquired as he extended his hand towards Kaela.

He looked towards Kurayami, raising his glass towards him. "You expecting anyone this evening my friend?"

 

[Nysa Veilwalker]

Tags: Veradun Sharr CC: Varin Mortifer / O P E N

Dark greens snagged on the way he smiled, as though he had found a little secret and was deciding whether to share it with her. She wondered what it might be. Perhaps it had something to do with the way his eyes had lingered on her neck, though she couldn't imagine what there was to find so interesting about it.

"Do you think I ought to be frightened of you?" she asked, without any particular accusation in her voice. It was a genuine question, offered with the same mild curiosity one might have for a peculiar-looking moth.

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the refreshments before returning to him. She offered him a faint, rather absent-minded smile.

"No, I prefer brewed teas. Warm drinks. They make the hands feel less lonely, don't you think?"

"I am Nysa, by the way. It seems a shame to have a conversation with someone and not know what to call them. Even if they do look a little like the sort of person one ought to be careful around." For a moment she looked as if she were peering through him. Across the room of dancers and party goers. Through the ghosts only she could see with the wandering restless spirits, she caught the look Varin Mortifer sent their way. She felt it, too.

"Oh, do you know each other?" Mossy eyes flickered to the masked giant of a man then back to the tall one before her with those eyes like Hoth at first light. "He's like a brother to me. Though I admit, I have yet to meet more of the Covenant Sith. I was curious to see what other sith were like across the expanse. Are you part of the Order?"

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Rosalia Aros | Open​

Somewhere within the pavilion, beneath the music and the noise of a hundred conversations, there was Veradun Sharr . Others might have hurried to seek out such a familiar presence. Kasir had wondered often enough about the Nagai, his fledgling, his little brother, that the questions crowding his thoughts had grown too numerous to count.

There was no rush, for the hours had long ago ceased to mean anything to him. A single hour, or another year, or perhaps another decade; what difference could it possibly make to creatures condemned to outlive every face that laughed and drank and danced around them? Those people were naught but mortal children who would grow grey and be lowered into the earth, while the bells rang on regardless.

For now, he left the younger Sangnir to his evening; yet the problem was that Kasir, who'd carved a path through armies and courts alike, found himself oddly adrift when it came to his own.

He wandered along the outskirts of the gathering, molten orbs drifting from one face to another. Some masks were beautifully made, others grotesque. His attention eventually shifted toward the refreshments, where a young woman stood before a lavish display.

So, an old habit prompted him to listen. Kasir strained to distinguish her from clamor around them, searching for that familiar little rhythm which so often betrayed the secrets of the living. One pulse was drumming into another, and he could scarcely pick out any single beat, for the entire pavilion was surely saturated with the sound of sustenance.

His gaze came to rest upon the young woman. There was no particular reason to approach her, much less impose upon her evening. Then again, there was no reason not to. The Darkseeker knew how to conduct himself before conquerors. The business of making someone's acquaintance was another matter entirely, one that required subtler grace than any blade could ever teach.

Kasir approached with an easy gate, and when he finally halted at a respectful distance, he offered only an inclination of his head

"Would you care to dance?" He presented an open hand, palm facing the sky.

 

[Kaela Voss]

Kaela Voss
Obj: Black Masquerade (Bane of the Open Bar)
Tags: Sylor // Kurayami Bloodborn

“I’’m Kaela Voss, sorta of the Mandalorian Empire, I think technically I have refugee status I’m shooting for citizenship and adoption into a clan, but I still need someone to take me on as a foundling and learn everything I need to pass my verdgotten.” Kaela’s slight mispronunciation of the word verd'gotten signalling that she was still a far from being a proper member of Mandalorian society, but still made it clear she was trying.

She shook Sylor’s hand with a firm grip after introducing herself, her calloused hands showing that even though Kaela was barely an adult she wasn’t a stranger to hard work.

Feeling a bit more confident, especially since she wasn’t shooed away, Kaela continued speaking “So what brings the two of you to this hoedown anyway?”

 

[Avast Verd]

✧ WAYWARD STAR // NAVIGATION RECORD

OUTER RIM // UNREGISTERED FREQUENCY

AVAST

“Mm. Stars be tellin' stories, vod. Best you learn to listen.”

◈ LOCATION // Feast of Shadows Carnival
◇ OBJECTIVE // Torment Dayr and interogate!

Oh, that was delightful.

Avast had to give Dayr credit. For a man who claimed to have complained only once, maybe three times, he'd certainly managed to communicate an entire dissertation on the injustices of formalwear with little more than a look.

Then again, she had always been rather good at reading him. Most folk mistook Dayr's economy of words for shyness. Avast knew better. He simply saw no reason to spend ten words where three would do, and if he had something to say, well, he'd say it and usually without much ceremony.

She remembered a younger Dayr having plenty to say about her grand adventures. Especially the ones that ended with one or both of them covered head to toe in mud, or nursing a sprained ankle.

Training missions, she'd called them. Important business, was that, especially in preparing a young foundling for life among the Verd. Truthfully, she'd wanted him to feel included. Plenty of Verd children were born and adopted alike, and Avast had figured the best way to make sure Dayr never felt alone was to drag him into every questionable adventure her little mind could conjure.

A perfectly sensible childhood philosophy, thank ye kindly.

And judging by the delightful shade of red currently decorating his handsome face, she'd won another round of their lifelong game of Nuna fighting.

One point for Avast. Not that Dayr kept score. She did. Quite enthusiastically.

Still, she'd noticed how uncomfortable he was with the festivities. Nothing a little familiar banter couldn't fix, or so she hoped. Besides, someone had to make sure the evening wasn't entirely wasted on fancy clothes and expensive champagne. However, Dayr's quiet compliment earned him a genuinely pleased smile.

"Mmm, look at ye, Dayr Verd, flatterin' a girl so sweetly!" She flashed him a wink over the rim of her glass. "Careful now, keep talkin' like that an' it'll go straight to my head!"

Then he emptied his champagne only to acquire another. Well, that was fast, Avast mused, brows rising. This was a side she wasn't too familiar with, just how much drink Dayr had been willing to knock back lately. Her trips over the past few years meant their reunions were short because of his duties in the Great Heathen Army, but they were always welcome when they could.

"Oho! Easy there, handsome! Keep pourin' them fancy bubbles down yer throat an' I'll be haulin' ye back to yer bunk!"

Yet his next question drew an indignant little gasp.

"One o' those nights? Oi! What's that supposed to mean?" She pressed a hand to her chest. "I'll have ye know I'm on me very best behavior tonight -- not a single obnoxious thing planned!"

Well. Nothing completely obnoxious. And certainly nothing compared to what she could get up to. Especially when she noticed how his gaze kept returning to certain women among the crowd.

Avast's grin slowly widened. Oh, she had questions. Several, in fact. And just as she was preparing to share the first, Dayr's answer caught her thoroughly by surprise.

Someone like you, I guess?

For a moment, Avast simply looked up at him. Her lips parted into a curious half-smile, dark almond-shaped eyes studying his expression beneath that ridiculous mask she'd made him wear. Her arm remained comfortably linked through his as she leaned back just enough to get a better look at him.

Funny, how she'd only just noticed how much taller he'd become.

There had been a time when Dayr was the little short-stack youngling she'd dragged into one adventure after another, while Avast had been all gangly arms and long legs, towering over him for several years. Now the tables had turned, and she had to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze properly.

Hmph, when had that happened? The thought brought a flicker of amusement, but it was what he'd said that held her attention -- someone like me?

Now, that was a rather interesting revelation. Not that she necessarily took his words to mean anything beyond what he'd said. He'd simply described the sort of person he might fancy, and apparently she happened to make a rather convenient example.

Still, it was delightfully amusing to hear him admit it.

"Oi, Dayr..." Avast's throaty voice dropped into a delighted, conspiratorial singsong. "Are ye tellin' me ye actually enjoy all me teasin' an' provokin' so much that I've gone an' made ye need another version o' me meddlin' in yer love life?"

She gave a soft, raspy chuckle.

"Tch! Poor thing. I've spoiled ye rotten, haven't I?" Avast's expression and grin softened with genuine affection as she gave his arm another little nudge. He could be adorable at times. It made her want to tease him more just to see it again.

"Hate to break it to ye, Dayr, but there ain't another quite so meddlesome as the original. One o' me be trouble enough for the galaxy!" Yet she hadn't missed what his answer meant. Someone who understood him, perhaps. Who didn't demand conversation just to fill the silence. Someone who could laugh with him, challenge him, and know when to leave well enough alone and Avast knew Dayr well enough to know he hadn't made the comparison lightly.

For once, she decided not to press him too hard.

Well. Not immediately.

"But mmm, now ye got me curious. Someone like me, ye say." She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling before narrowing in delighted curiosity. "Now, be it me charm ye fancy, me cleverness, or me remarkable talent for gettin' under yer skin? Best be specific, Dayr. Can't go findin' ye a sweetheart without knowin' what sort o' trouble ye prefer!"

And then Avast remembered the rather interesting redhead he'd been eyeing earlier. Now, she couldn't say whether he'd been admiring the woman or simply studying the room -- Dayr had always been one to notice his surroundings, after all.

But where was the fun in letting a perfectly good opportunity go to waste and gathering more information? With a flashing grin, she decided to keep teasing.

"Oh, it be a redhead ye fancy then, hmm?"

​

✧ GEAR // 001 // INTERACTING: Dayr Verd

✧ NO MAP FOR THE LOST // OYA MANDA ✦

 

[Siv Kryze]

Siv listened as Veyla spoke, giving a small nod at her admission. He was glad to hear that House Kryze had become a place where she felt she belonged. A clan was more than its name or the armor its members wore; it was the people who chose to stand beside one another, and the work they put into building something that would last.

"Good. I'd like to think that's what we're building," he replied. "A place where people can find their footing and have something worthwhile to contribute. It's not always easy getting there, but I think it's worth the effort."

Her question about his own well-being earned a quiet huff of amusement.

"I manage. Though I suppose that's not quite the same as taking care of myself." His helmet turned toward the festivities around them. "Still, an evening without reports to read or disputes to settle is a welcome change. I'll take what I can get."

There was more behind the answer than he let on. His conversation with Dral-Kar'ta Saandyr in the forge had left him thinking about questions he hadn't found easy answers to. What direction should Clan Kryze take? How much of their past should they preserve, and how much did they need to reconsider if they wanted a future beyond simply surviving the next conflict? He had responsibilities to his clan, but that didn't mean he had figured out what the right answers looked like.

For now, he set those thoughts aside when Veyla drew his attention to the young Mandalorian standing apart from the crowd.

Siv followed Veyla's gaze toward the young Mandalorian, taking in his green skin and familiar markings. He seemed to have found himself a quiet corner away from the festivities, something Siv could hardly fault him for.

"Collecting strays now, are we?" he remarked to Veyla, a hint of amusement in his voice.

He turned toward Garo Vevut-Varkor , giving him a small, welcoming nod.

"Su'cuy, vod. I'm Siv Kryze. Good to see another Mandalorian here." He glanced around the crowded pavilion before returning his attention to the newcomer. "How are you finding the feast so far? Bit different from home, I'd imagine."

Siv shifted slightly, leaving room for Garo to join them if he wished. He wasn't about to make the young man feel obliged to abandon his quiet corner just because they'd noticed him.

"You're welcome to join us if you'd like," he added. "No pressure. Nothing wrong with finding a quiet spot at one of these things."

Tag: Veyla Krinn Garo Vevut-Varkor


​

 

[Dayr Verd]

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HOUSE VERD

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FIELD NOTES

MANDALORIAN CLAN ARCHIVE

x

DAYR VERD

x

WARHOST // WARRIOR // GUNSLINGER

FEAST OF SHADOWS CARNIVAL

LOCATION

OBJECTIVE

THE BLACK MASQUERADE

x

Dayr gave Avast a sidelong look over the rim of his glass when she accused him of flattery.

"It wasn't flattery."

He took another drink while she warned him about having to haul him back to his bunk. The first glass had disappeared quickly, but the second was going considerably slower. Dayr enjoyed a drink, sure, but he didn't make a habit of putting them away like that. That had been a special case. She knew why.

"I'll be fine," he said simply, glancing her way.

Still, her indignant reaction to one of those nights did more to undermine that claim than reassure him. Dayr's mouth tightened when she insisted she was on her very best behaviour. He remembered enough childhood adventures that had started with Avast making broadly similar assurances, usually shortly before somebody ended up covered in stinging nettles, limping home, or trying to explain why whatever had happened technically hadn't been their fault.

"That doesn't make me feel better."

He was still watching her when the teasing circled back to his answer: Someone like her. Part of him knew, as soon as he said it, that he would be raked over the coals for it - playfully, of course, as only kin could. Yet, Dayr did notice that Avast didn't immediately pounce. She leaned back enough to look up at him properly, her arm still comfortably through his, and simply studied him for a few seconds. The pause caught Dayr's attention. Avast rarely needed time to find something to say when she'd caught him exposed, especially when the opportunity involved embarrassing him.

Instead, she let the words sit.

Dayr couldn't know exactly what she'd taken from his answer. Still, she had given him those few seconds before the familiar singsong returned, and he knew her well enough to suspect that hadn't happened by accident.

"That's not what I meant."

Her chuckle and the nudge against his arm were familiar enough, and the grin she'd been wearing had softened around the edges. Dayr knew when Avast was trying to get a rise out of him and when she'd actually decided to press. She could be relentless when she wanted to be, but she'd always had a sense for when he was genuinely done with something.

When she declared there wasn't another quite so meddlesome as the original, Dayr took a drink and looked out over the pavilion again. He was inclined to believe her. One Avast had already accounted for a disproportionate amount of trouble across his childhood.

Then she asked him to be specific.

His eyes returned to her, narrowing slightly behind the mask. "You know what I meant."

The look lingered before Dayr turned his attention back toward the room. Another couple had joined the dancers near the musicians, one considerably more comfortable with the steps than the other. At the bar, a masked man was halfway through an animated story while his companions listened. None of it needed much of Dayr's attention, but it gave him somewhere else to look while he worked out how to put the answer into words.

He rolled the glass once between his fingers; he still didn't like the drink.

"You're easy to be around." Dayr frowned faintly. The words felt smaller than what he'd meant. "I mean, you know when I'm actually annoyed and when I'm not. You don't need me talking just because things are quiet."

He glanced down toward Avast, still tucked against his side. She could fill silence better than almost anyone he knew when she wanted to, but she'd never expected him to do the same. She could drag him somewhere he hadn't intended to go, provoke reactions he would rather keep to himself, then know when he genuinely needed space instead of another joke.

"You know when to leave something alone." His mouth shifted. "Eventually."

The amusement stayed with him as he looked ahead again. Months could pass between seeing her when their lives took them in different directions, but there was never much adjustment when Avast came back. She could fall into step beside him and carry on as though she'd only been gone a few days. Dayr didn't have to wonder whether he'd been quiet too long, or whether something ordinary needed explaining.

Avast had asked him plainly enough; for all the grief she gave him, there wasn't much reason to give her anything less than a real answer.

Then she mentioned the redhead, and Dayr's attention moved across the pavilion before he could stop it. He found the woman in the elaborate mask he'd noticed earlier, still apart from the nearest group with a drink in hand, watching more than participating. By the time he looked back to Avast, he knew perfectly well that the glance had lasted long enough for her to notice.

"I looked at her once."

The defence came quickly enough that Dayr heard the problem with it himself. His brows drew together behind the mask as he took another measured sip, suddenly finding the glass useful again.

"She's pretty. I noticed. That doesn't mean she's my type."

He kept his attention on Avast after that. The expression on her face was familiar enough to make him suspicious, particularly after everything she'd already claimed about being on her best behaviour tonight. Dayr knew how often those assurances had survived first contact with an interesting idea.

"No. We're not going over there. Right, Avast?"

x

TAGS

Avast Verd + Open

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HOUSE VERD

x

x

x

x

x

x

FOUNDLING

 

[Avast Verd]

✧ WAYWARD STAR // NAVIGATION RECORD

OUTER RIM // UNREGISTERED FREQUENCY

AVAST

“Mm. Stars be tellin' stories, vod. Best you learn to listen.”

◈ LOCATION // Feast of Shadows Carnival
◇ OBJECTIVE // Torment Dayr

Oh, he was making this far too entertaining.

Avast had caught that sidelong look over Dayr's glass, along with the rather pointed insistence that his compliment hadn't been mere flattery.

Which of course it hadn't been. Dayr wasn't much for pretty words simply for the sake of saying them. If he thought something, he'd say it, and if he didn't, good luck prying it out of him. Which made his earlier compliment all the sweeter, really, bringing a genuine warmth to her otherwise mischievous smile. Still, his response to her assurances of good behavior earned him a positively scandalized look.

"Osi'kyr! Such little faith ye have in me, Dayr! An' after all them years o' me lookin' after ye!" Never mind that her particular brand of looking after him had occasionally involved questionable climbing expeditions, angry wildlife, and the occasional trip to the healers.

Details and minor technicalities! She'd been about to remind him of that when he answered her question properly.

You're easy to be around.

That brought Avast's attention back to him. For once, she listened without immediately preparing some clever remark. The playful curve of her lips remained, but her expression grew a touch more thoughtful as Dayr worked through what he wanted to say.

She knew the difference between him searching for words and him wanting a conversation to end. For now, there was no impatience in his manner nor particular edge to his voice. Just Dayr, taking the time to explain something he probably wouldn't have bothered explaining to most anyone else. And that was worth listening to -- at least until Dayr dare say eventually.

"Eventually?!" She echoed, mouth falling open in mock affront and then gave a little cluck of her tongue. "Tch! Listen to this one! Ye make it sound like I'm some terrible creature come crawlin' outta the Black just to torment ye!"

Avast's lips pursed into a playfully affronted pout, dark eyes narrowing with exaggerated suspicion.

"An' here I thought I was a blessin' upon yer otherwise terribly dull existence!"

A soft chuckle followed, but she didn't pursue the complaint. Instead, her hand gave his arm a small, affectionate squeeze.

"Mmm. But I know what ye mean, Dayr." And she did. There was something rather comforting about that, wasn't there? Knowing someone well enough that neither distance nor time needed much explanation when they met again. She'd spent years wandering from one corner of the galaxy to another, collecting stories, acquaintances, and more than a few lessons she'd rather not repeat. Yet whenever she returned home, there was her Clan, her family, and Dayr. Older, taller, occasionally sporting some new scar, but still wonderfully, unmistakably himself.

So she decided to give him a bit of a break from her meddlesome nonsense.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with wantin' someone ye can simply be with," she added, her musical cadence gentler now. She took another sip of her drink, enjoying the bubbles but honestly, wishing it was something stronger. Maybe she wasn't too keen on such fancy socials like this.

"An' for what it's worth, Dayr, ye've always been easy company for me, too." There. A little sincerity, freely given to the blonde. No need to make a grand production of it -- especially when the redhead presented such a wonderful opportunity to ruin the moment.

Avast hadn't missed the way his attention went straight toward the woman she'd mentioned -- nor how quickly he returned to explaining himself.

I looked at her once. She's pretty. That doesn't mean she's my type.

Mm-hmm, interesting, she mused, taking more mental notes on the matter. But it was his final question that nearly undid her.

No. We're not going over there. Right, Avast?

For several seconds, she simply stared at him. Then her dark eyes widened with a look of such exaggerated innocence that it could only mean trouble.

"Go over there?" she repeated, pressing a hand to her chest. "Why, Dayr! Whatever gave ye such an idea? I ain't said a single word 'bout goin' over there!"

Which was true...technically.

And oh, had she been raised to appreciate the importance of technicalities.

"All I did was ask whether ye fancied the pretty redhead, an' now here ye are, tellin' me where we ain't allowed to go!" Her brows rose. "Mmm! Seems to me someone's been givin' the matter an awful lot o' thought!" A wicked little grin threatened to spread across her face as she gave a perk of her brows at his expense at that. But she caught herself. There was a difference between Dayr being flustered and Dayr genuinely drawing a line, and she'd known him far too long to mistake one for the other. And he had said no.

So, for all the temptation, she wasn't about to march him across the pavilion and introduce him to some unsuspecting woman... well, not yet anyway.

"Aye, aye, Dayr. No ambushin' pretty redheads. Ye have me word." She even raised her free hand in a solemn little pledge. A remarkably convincing performance, if one ignored the grin. Her gaze wandered toward the musicians, where the dancing had grown even more livelier with drink. Finishing her drink, she passed the empty glass onto a passing tray and then gave a thoughtful hum.

"Now then, since ye've gone an' forbidden me from playin' matchmaker..." She turned those bright, curious eyes back toward him, her now free hand set upon the curve of her hip.

"What say we find somethin' else worth doin'? I reckon there's a fair bit o' this place we ain't seen yet."

Then, with a flash of white teeth as Avast broke out into another wide challenging grin.

"Unless ye fancy showin' me what them fancy boots o' yours can do on a dance floor?" She quipped out as gave a throaty laugh, nuding his arm again.

Now that she'd pay good credits to see!

​

✧ GEAR // 001 // INTERACTING: Dayr Verd

✧ NO MAP FOR THE LOST // OYA MANDA ✦

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber | Wyrmfang​

“I am told gold wines have a sweetness and a slight bite of sour. Perhaps I can raid the royal wine cellar on Korriban.”

A small chuckle escaped his as he took her other hand, his arm softly wrapped behind her waist as the music swayed with them. At her invitation to give others something more pleasant to look at a small laugh escaped him.

“That may be hard to beat, but I can certainly try.”

Ignati however was completely distracted by the fashion spectacles around him. Some of them even boggling the mind of the very being itself, which said a lot in his own terms.

Varin, some of these outfits are completely ridiculous. I think one is dressed like some sort of Hutt combined with a bantha, then there's another that-...oh you are busy. I will leave you to it of course.

His steps were slow with hers, moving with the tone and the tempo of the music before them. It was interesting to see such a large man show such care for someone much shorter than him. A lot of people would assume he would be exceptionally talented with stepping on toes, but he was oddly dexterous.

“I heard you found a few extra pets not too long ago.”

His gaze found hers, looking through her elegant mask. His hand still holding hers loosely as they moved through the dance floor to the rhythm of the music.

“Please, tell me about them. I am always intrigued by new faces.”

Seren Gwyn​

 

[Garo Vevut-Varkor]

​

Garo look at the other two mandalores,he take a deep breatha dn sighs,a mix of realiving and nervous. he walk to the two and take a sip of the juice he is drinking before answer "I'm not a fan of big gatherings of people" He say in tone who shows he feel a little lost in the place and situation.
"I'm Garo Vevut-Varkor."

He say and finish his juice and stay quiet for noe letting the two more sociable mandalorians talk,he don't know how to talk with new people and the ambience, the Dark Side around don't help on he being more sociable,he sometimes looking to some specific directions like feeling a predator is always looking at him


Veyla Krinn Siv Kryze

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Tag: Sylor | Kaela Voss

A nod of acknowledgement from Kurayami to Kaela and Sylor the introductions and his quip about the tab. The cybernetic eye glowed it's eerie, steady pale green as it scanned around him tagging known biosignatures. He wasn't able to go so far as to tag anyone in particular, but it was just a means of helping him know where to focus Force senses if need be. For now a general sense of the area was fine. "Pleased to meet you both, Sylor, Kaela." He responded, no modulation from the rebreather, as he shook the Mandalorian's hand.

"As to expecting anyone this evening, no, I am not I must say. I often visit these events as a means to see old acquaintances if they happen to be in attendance as well. If not, then I simply enjoy the people watching for a night and relax."

At Kaela's revelation Kurayami nodded slowly. "Are there any Clan Alors whom you have spoken to about membership? Or even members of differeing clans to see which may fit your journey best, Kaela? The verd'goten is quite the challenge, but something tells me a bit of guidance is all you need."

 

[Veyla Krinn]

Objective I: The Black Masquerade
Location: Feast of Shadows, Thyferra
Tags: Siv Kryze | Garo Vevut-Varkor

Veyla chuckled at Siv's suggestion that she was collecting strays, finding the description rather appropriate given how often Mandalorians seemed to gravitate toward one another in unfamiliar surroundings. His earlier admission about managing rather than taking care of himself hadn't escaped her attention, either. She understood the distinction better than she cared to admit, having spent plenty of evenings working long past the point when she should have called it a day.

"Collecting strays? I prefer to think of it as making sure our people don't have to suffer through Sith hospitality alone." She gave Siv an amused glance before adding, "And for the record, managing isn't quite the same as looking after yourself. Perhaps we both need more evenings like this."

Her attention returned to the young Mandalorian as he approached and introduced himself. She offered him a welcoming smile, noticing his nervousness and the occasional glances he cast around the gathering. With so many Sith present, she couldn't entirely blame him for looking uncomfortable. Even without the unfamiliar atmosphere, the crowd itself was enough to overwhelm someone who preferred quieter surroundings.

"Good to meet you, Garo. I'm Veyla Krinn, of House Kryze." She gestured lightly toward Siv with her glass. "And you've already met our esteemed Warden, who I'm currently attempting to convince that enjoying himself isn't against Mandalorian tradition."

She smiled, hoping the gentle humor would help Garo relax without making him feel like the center of attention. There was little point in dragging someone into a conversation if doing so only made them more uncomfortable.

"I can't say I'm particularly fond of enormous gatherings myself. Give me a forge and a few familiar faces, and I'm perfectly content." She glanced toward the dancers before returning her emerald gaze to him. "Still, the food's good, the drinks aren't terrible, and nobody's tried to kill us yet. I'd say we're doing rather well."

Taking another sip of wine, Veyla shifted slightly to give Garo more room beside the refreshment table. She had no intention of interrogating him, but she also didn't want him to feel unwelcome.

"So, Garo, what brought you all the way to Thyferra? Something tells me masquerade balls aren't usually how you spend your evenings." Her tone remained friendly and conversational, leaving him free to share as much or as little as he wished.

 

[Rosalia Aros]

Tag: Kasir Dorran
​

Rosalia spied a dark shadow of a man making his way towards her.

She thought nothing of it. Once more, she glanced down at the food on display. Perhaps he was in the mood for one of the appetizers, she thought in amusement. But a hand came into view, and a voice spoke, an invitation to dance. She let her stare linger for a moment before traveling up his sleeve and finally to his face.

Truly, she hadn't expected anyone to ask. Even though, she supposed that was the main attraction of a masquerade. Well, she could continue to ponder and pretend to appreciate the catering – or she could dance with a handsome gentleman. It was an easy choice.

"Certainly," she said, nodding. "Thank you, my lord."

She stepped around the table and to his side and let her cold hand come to rest atop his. At least growing up in an aristocratic family had taught her how to behave in polite company. And she had learned to dance, well enough that she would not make a fool of herself. Or so she hoped. Rosalia would walk gracefully at his side, keeping stride until they were on the dance floor.

Indeed the dancers seemed to meld together in the force. Though, her newly met dance partner had a familiar veil of darkness about him. Rosalia couldn't quite put her finger on it exactly. Perhaps it was simply the fact that she'd been isolated as of late, kept in a prison of her own making. She knew so few, even those she did… she hadn't seen.

"I don't believe we've met before. I'm Rosalia," she said, offering him a genial smile. "And you are?"

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Rosalia Aros​

There was a certain irony in being addressed as Lord. He had stood before such men, borne their orders. Nobility was a thing bestowed by ink and inheritance; whatever power rested in his hands had been purchased in blood.

The absence of warmth made itself known the moment her hand settled upon his. His own had been lacking it for longer than memory cared to dwell upon. Living flesh tended toward warmth. Like winter creeping over a sleeping lake, the thought spread inward without haste, never touching the countenance carved from moonlit marble.

A pleasant name. Still, experience had taught him that appearances were poor witnesses to the truth. There were monsters who wore beautiful faces, and good men who looked as though the grave had rejected them. Kasir had encountered enough of both to know better than to cast judgement so quickly.

When she smiled, he offered only the dip of his chin. The knack for returning such warmth eluded him, and the appetite for feigning it eluded him even more.

"Kasir," the murmur unfurled, scarcely rising above the music. "A pleasure, Rosalia."

He fell silent, not for want of words, but to listen as the music drifted through the hall without the clamor of battle to drown it.

Then, turning to face her, he elevated their joined hands. No further guidance came from the other hand, left lowered so she could settle into position at her own pace, however long courage might require, be it a heartbeat or an age. "I had almost forgotten what evenings such as this were like.” Molten gold found her once more. "And you, Rosalia? What brings you here tonight?"

​

 

[Seren Gwyn]

Objective I: The Black Masquerade
Location: Feast of Shadows, Thyferra
Interacting With: Varin Mortifer

Seren laughed softly at Varin's suggestion to raid the royal wine cellar on Korriban, wondering whether he meant to acquire the bottle through legitimate means or simply didn't care about the distinction. Given the evening's festivities, she hoped they could get their wine without causing an incident that would require explaining to the local authorities. "I was thinking we might purchase a bottle, love, but I suppose raiding a royal wine cellar would make for a considerably more memorable evening. Though perhaps we should save that adventure for a time when we're not dressed quite so extravagantly." Her amber eyes glimmered with amusement behind the delicate crimson filigree of her mask as she let him draw her closer, one hand resting comfortably in his while the other settled against his chest.

Despite their considerable height difference, Seren found it surprisingly easy to follow his movements. Varin possessed a gentleness that might have surprised anyone who knew him only by reputation, and she had long since learned that his imposing stature concealed a remarkable capacity for tenderness. The music provided a pleasant rhythm, letting her move with him without worrying too much about the elaborate layers of her gown. She was grateful the train was relatively short, though the occasional brush of silk against her ankles reminded her that formal attire required far more attention than the clothes she usually favored. For a little while, she simply enjoyed the dance, the warmth of his hand against hers, and the unfamiliar luxury of having nowhere else they needed to be.

His question about her newest companions brought a smile to her face, though she suspected his enthusiasm might wane once he learned exactly what kind of creatures she had acquired. "I see word travels quickly," she remarked, tilting her head to meet his gaze. "Although I wouldn't necessarily describe them as pets. They're Phantom Hounds, creatures native to the Netherworld, and rather more intelligent than the name might suggest." She paused, considering how best to explain an experience that had been unusual even by the standards of her recent adventures. " Tobias Dib and I encountered them during an expedition. They were initially quite hostile, understandably, given where we found them, but the encounter became a test. They examined my memories, my intentions, and the choices I've made. It wasn't an entirely comfortable experience."

The recollection left her thoughtful for a moment. She entered the Netherworld expecting danger and perhaps a chance to learn more about its peculiar inhabitants. She hadn't anticipated being confronted so directly with questions about her character, much less finding acceptance from creatures whose judgment seemed entirely independent of the Jedi-Sith divide. "What surprised me was that they chose to accompany me afterward. I didn't bind them or compel their obedience. They simply decided I was someone they wished to follow." Her expression softened with quiet satisfaction. "I rather like that arrangement. After everything I've experienced, I think I would have been disappointed if our companionship had begun with another form of servitude."

Seren adjusted her steps as the music shifted, letting herself settle a little closer to Varin before continuing. "They're quite remarkable creatures, actually. Their connection to the Netherworld makes them unlike any hounds I've encountered before, and I'm still learning what they're capable of. I suspect they'll be perfectly comfortable around Obsidian Hollow, although I'll need to make certain they understand which areas are appropriate for exploring and which contain manuscripts I'd prefer remained intact." A hint of mischief returned to her smile. "I haven't decided whether I should be more concerned about them getting into my research or about what might happen if they encounter some of the less cooperative things I've collected."

She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze, her expression brightening with a more playful thought. "Of course, you're welcome to meet them. I imagine they'll find you rather interesting, though I can't promise they'll be as easily impressed by your height as everyone else seems to be." She laughed quietly before adding, "And before you ask, no, I haven't given them names yet. I thought I ought to get to know their individual personalities first. Perhaps you could help me with that."

For a moment, she studied his masked face, appreciating how naturally their conversation had turned from rare wines and dancing to the extraordinary creatures she had encountered in another realm. It was one of the things she cherished about their relationship. Neither of them needed to pretend that their lives were ordinary, yet they could still find simple pleasure in sharing the unusual details of their respective adventures. "Though I should probably warn you that if you encourage me too much, I may eventually turn my home into a sanctuary for every strange creature I encounter. And then you'll have only yourself to blame when they all decide they prefer your company to mine."

 

[Siv Kryze]

Siv gave Garo a welcoming nod as he introduced himself, allowing Veyla to take the lead in easing him into the conversation. Her remark about convincing him to enjoy himself earned a slight tilt of his helmet.

"Careful, Veyla. If word gets around that I'm enjoying myself, people might start expecting it of me."

There was a hint of amusement in his voice. He turned back toward Garo, taking note of the young Mandalorian's unease without drawing attention to it. The Sith presence was difficult to ignore, and not everyone was inclined to spend an evening surrounded by strangers, no matter how elaborate the refreshments or the decorations.

"Can't blame you, Garo. Give me a quiet workshop over a crowded hall most days." He glanced around the pavilion. "Though I suppose it'd be a shame to come all this way and not at least see what the fuss is about."

He shifted slightly beside Veyla, making room for Garo to settle in without feeling crowded.

"So, what brings you here tonight? Were you invited along, or did someone decide you needed a change of scenery?"

Tag: Veyla Krinn Garo Vevut-Varkor


​

 

[Romin Renoux]

H O U S E • R E N O U X​

Wearing: xxx
Tag: Adelina Draco

Romin had barely extended his hand before it became apparent that Mr. Ares had little intention of taking it. The gentleman seemed considerably more interested in the revelation that Adelina had once been kidnapped, though Romin found the incredulity rather amusing. Surely the man understood that women like Adelina Draco had lives before they had the misfortune of making his acquaintance.

The subtle jab to his ribs was an entirely different matter. Romin managed to maintain his composure, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a smile. He had understood her predicament before she had felt the need to physically communicate it. Apparently, rescuing Adelina Draco was becoming something of a habit.

"Of course," Romin answered smoothly, placing his free hand over hers where it rested upon his arm. He offered Mr. Ares an apologetic smile that was not particularly apologetic. "You'll forgive us, I'm sure. There are certain experiences that create a rather unique bond between people. Terribly difficult to explain to someone who wasn't there."

He gave the man no opportunity to argue before turning to escort Adelina away. It was a small pleasure, he supposed, watching another man's carefully arranged evening fall apart so effortlessly. Then again, Mr. Ares ought to have recognized the warning signs. Adelina had hardly been subtle about her lack of enthusiasm.

Once they had placed a respectable distance between themselves and her unwanted escort, Romin leaned slightly toward her.

"You're welcome, by the way. Though I must say, I had rather hoped our next encounter wouldn't require another rescue."

His laughter was quiet, and he glanced toward her with a mischievous expression. "At least this one didn't involve restraints. Unless there was something about your gentleman friend I failed to notice."

The ballroom offered a suitable distraction as they continued through the crowd. Romin acknowledged a passing acquaintance with a nod, though his attention remained largely upon Adelina. He had wondered about her occasionally since their escape. It was difficult not to think about someone with whom one had shared such an extraordinary experience, particularly when they had parted ways without knowing whether their paths would ever cross again.

"It really is good to see you, Adelina." His voice lost some of its teasing quality. "I wondered what became of you after we went our separate ways. I trust you've managed to avoid any further abductions?"

He studied her expression briefly before allowing a smile to return.

"Although, knowing you, I suspect you've found other ways to make life interesting."

Romin guided them toward a quieter portion of the ballroom, where conversation would be possible without competing with the music or the endless exchanges of superficial pleasantries. A passing server offered a tray of drinks, and Romin selected a glass before gesturing toward the selection for Adelina.

"Now, tell me something. Did you actually come here of your own free will, or was Mr. Ares another unfortunate circumstance from which you required liberation?"

He raised his glass slightly, amusement returning to his eyes.

"Because if it's the latter, I should probably begin charging for my services."