Public Festival of the Skyborn - Public Roleplay on Kesh

[Solan Charr]

The Festival of the Skyborn - 902 ABY

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The Scar Worlds had seen a great deal of pain and suffering, worlds that had been unable to truly stand against the threats to the far outer edges of the galaxy. There was no Republic to give them a voice, no Confederacy to stand for the forgotten, no Empire to bring Order to these worlds. Only the remains of their people making their lives bearable again. They had sought every bit that they could claw back, and now those worlds were given the chance to truly show that they were still here.

On Kesh, the most populous of those words in the region, and the one that had once been welcome to the Lost Tribe of the Sith now stood once more. The lights that illuminated their cities, the protection that the world once offered slowly returning. With that return came the first of the Festivals they had once held so long ago. The proof that Beauty and Order could exist hand in hand as glistening glass sculptures lined the streets. Marble statues of those who had come before, Fountains that the artisans of their homeworld spent years on to complete. The shops and homes having been repaired, rebuilt and now were once more a sign of the Keshiri's homeland.

In addition, there now existed those from the worlds of Hypori, Lowick, Eadu, Formos, and the others who's worlds had been caught in the path of destruction only a decade ago. Welcomed to Kesh when they no longer had a home to return to, bringing with them their own world's traditions, culture and peoples as Kesh once more welcomed foreign exiles. Just like the Lost Tribe of the Sith in the far past, these peoples would find themselves integrated and be able to make a life once more on the planet.

At the top of all of it, the Grand Palace stood once more, repaired and with its great works standing imposing over the rest of the city as it had for centuries. It looked down on the city that expanded out around it, and within the Great Hall there was a welcoming atmosphere for any who sought a more formal night. Influential people from the planet itself, as well as guests from any other world or government were welcome, offered the chance to enjoy the night and to speak as they otherwise would never. Dancing with those who they had at one point stood across a table arguing with, old enemies given the chance to lay down the blade and to simply forget the struggles that comes with the wars raging in the Galaxy.

All these things were opened up to those who arrived, for them to take advantage of and for them to enjoy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Solan's POV ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Solan smiled, looking out at the world he loved so deeply. The one he had given his life for in its defense and had failed to truly protect that day. If he had been stronger, or if he had ensured he had more capable allies at his back, then perhaps it would have succeeded but that no longer mattered. Now, he had his homeland recovering, returning to the way it was when he had conquered it those many decades ago. He had cut out the last remnants of the Lost Tribe, shown there was another path and ever since he had ruled with only momentary interruption.

He quieted those thoughts though, instead kneeling down in the Eternal Garden he had so dutifully ensured the rebuilding of. His hand running over the luminescient flowers around him and feeling the force as it flowed through every bit of life in this place. The flowers after all had been grown and were sustained through the Force itself, unable to grow in any other manner.

It was the last gift he had been given by his own family, and he would not squander the beauty of that gift by hoarding it away from others.

 

[Zori Galea]

Location: Kesh


Zori's shuttle touched down atop the alabaster landing spire of Tahv as the twin suns dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the gleaming white terraces of Kesh's Grand Palace. She took a slow, steadying breath before unclipping her seat harness and rising to her feet. Every movement felt weighted: the fabric of her gown, the hum of the shuttle's engines fading behind her, the faint whisper of Force-steeped gardens beyond the spire's edge. In that moment, she allowed herself to feel both the tremor of fear and the faint, stubborn spark of hope.

She stood before the transparent viewport, watching palace guards—perfectly drilled, their crimson-and-gold uniforms stark against polished marble—move with ritual precision. She smoothed the front of her dress: a floor‑sweeping sheath of midnight silk that caught the dying light, its simple elegance belying the turmoil that still lived beneath her ribs. Her hair was pulled tight into a high bun, not a stray lock to betray the nights she'd spent alone, contemplating all she'd lost and everything she still needed to become.

With a single decisive step, Zori left the shuttle behind. Her boots clicked softly on the spire's cool stone as she descended toward the palace courtyard, where citizens of Kesh and exiles from distant Scar Worlds milled beneath banners of sapphire and ivory. She kept her gaze low, letting the crowd's festive cheers wash over her in waves—joyous, hopeful, oblivious. She could feel the curious glances at her in the Force, pulses of recognition she dared not acknowledge. Months ago, she'd bartered her remaining ties to Azis for the fragile promise of freedom; the price had been steep, but the result was absolute: she was queen only of herself now.

Beyond the courtyard's ornate fountains and glass‑shard sculptures, the great arched doors of the palace yawned open, spilling golden lamplight onto the marble floor. Music drifted out—a delicate interplay of strings and low drums—and with each step into that glow, Zori's heart both quaked and swelled. She had come seeking anonymity, yet she could not hide the way her posture carried the echoes of authority, the slight flare of a practiced ruler in every gesture. Still, she told herself, here she could forge a new identity: one unmarred by betrayals, unbound from the shadows of ancient pacts.

She paused just inside, letting the threshold mark the divide between the past and what she dared to believe might be her future. Servants in deep blue livery offered napery and crystal glasses brimming with spiced wine; Zori accepted a glass as though it were an anchor. The rich aroma warmed her chest. She lifted it in a silent toast to herself—and to the fragile hope that tonight, no one would recognize the faded scar beneath the silk, the memory of dark rituals and whispered commands. Tonight, she would allow herself to be simply a guest, a woman reborn beneath the vaulted ceilings of the Grand Hall.

And as the music swelled and dancers took their places, Zori stepped forward into the swirl of candlelight and laughter, feeling the fragile bloom of possibility unfurl inside her—pity for the past she could never fully escape, and yet a vital pulse of hope that perhaps, in this world rebuilt from ruin, she too might find redemption.

 

[Tilon Quill]

He quieted those thoughts though, instead kneeling down in the Eternal Garden he had so dutifully ensured the rebuilding of. His hand running over the luminescient flowers around him and feeling the force as it flowed through every bit of life in this place. The flowers after all had been grown and were sustained through the Force itself, unable to grow in any other manner.

"Your Majesty?"

Tilon came into the garden respectfully, mostly with the plants in mind. He'd always had a knack for plants — it had kept him alive during his childhood with the Sith, and now the back half of his little ship was a hydroponic garden.

As a gift, he brought a small potted rosé amanecer that was growing, in the heart of its lone flower, a tiny but lightsaber-grade crystal.

"I'm Tilon Quill. I think you might remember my father Jend-Ro from the dark times." His father had even fought here on Kesh against the Draelvasier during the Keshiri people's attempt to reclaim their homeworld. "I wanted to see your garden and bring a gift."

 

[Solan Charr]

Solan noticed the sound of someone coming closer, and the words that reached his ears would only make him smile. It had been a while since he had heard someone say the title, after all he rarely had his own court do so as they had gone through so much together. He would not disappoint though, standing tall and with careful hands he brushed his clothing off. The flowers he tended to so carefully could wait as he had others that had come to speak with him.

He then saw the gift, the splendid appearance of the flower and the crystal within. He was drawn to the sight immediately, wondering about the creation of this flower and how it worked. He couldn't help himself as he started wanting to break down the very nature of it on the spot. It was only the fact that this was a gift and the nature of the evening that he stopped himself and would smile a bit more.

"I can only thank you for such a unique gift. It is something that I feel as though I have not earned with how wonderful it is." He would

"That all said, I do remember your father quite well. Or well, as best that I am capable of these days. I lost quite a bit from my time in limbo between life and death, his name is familiar but his face is long lost to my mind." He had lost even the faces of those he cherished deep in his heart, his parents, his first wife. All of them gone from his memory though their names remained.

"But, lets not dwell on such things. Shall we find a place for your Gift and continue this conversation, find a topic that is a much happier one."

He did make note of another presence, though they had not come to the gardens so he did not trouble his mind with them for now. Instead he welcomed them all the same as any others who arrived to this joyous night.

Tilon Quill

 

[Tilon Quill]

Tilon's nerves eased, not just because of the pleasant reception but because Solan Charr was clearly a plant person.

"I think this one would thrive in your garden if there's a good spot for it. It's called a rosé amanecer — it's native to jungle cave systems on Pi Three. It grows a crystal that's pure and strong enough to use in a lightsaber." Tilon tapped the clean-lined silver saber at his belt. "It's the kind I use myself.

"Your garden — I've heard these flowers can only grow at a vergence in the Force, is that right?"

 

[Solan Charr]

Solan stood with his arms crossed behind his back, listening to the explanation of the flower and committing the information to his memory. It was a rather interesting flower, one he would enjoy getting to see grow and become even grander than it was now. A small thing like it was something he always had found himself drawn to, a reason he treated his other works like cultivating a garden of a far different type. His 'children' were one such case.

"Having been around for so long, and yet there are still things in our Galaxy that never cease to surprise me. I can't imagine what other flora like this exist out there." He would look towards the garden, thinking it over before nodding his head towards a certain direction. Tilon would find him leading them over to a cleared out area, one that was left barren on purpose for a reason that Solan himself did not speak on.

"If you wish, the pot can be placed here, it would fit best here." He spoke, thinking on the matter a bit further before looking to the other flowers once more and nodding.

"To answer your question, their name is Eternal Mourners. They cannot be grown without active aid from the Force, and once grown they will not die through any natural means. They will die only through unnatural manipulation, or through the removal of the Force itself from the place they are planted in. The nature of the user does not harm or aid in this process... after all, I am far from the model example of someone who would inspire the growth of life." He finished, continuing to keep his mind open incase anyone else approached, but otherwise he would keep his eyes on Tilon while they talked.

Tilon Quill

 

[Tilon Quill]

Tilon set down the pot in the place Solan Charr indicated and dusted off his hands, missing the flower a little already. Other rosé amanecers grew on his ship, of course. He couldn't keep every plant.

"It sounds like they're resilient," he said. "Against time and mortality, against the person tending them. Are they a natural phenomenon that evolved ata vergence, or were they bred or designed this way?"