For the Lions and the Roses

[Valessia Brentioch]

THE GRAND PALACE HOTEL​

NEW HELIOPOLIS, HALM​

​

​

The desert air cooled for the evening and the lights of the city illuminated the sky. Many of the city's denizens carried about with their everyday lives unaware of the event that unfolded on that autumn night. It took place at the Grand Palace there in New Heliopolis, a city that had quickly become one of the nation's crown jewels. A beautiful city filled with the historic and the new. Music could be heard for a kilometre or two around the hotel and stood mightly along the river with an entrance meant to taxi the tourists from one establishment to another. On that night it would serve only as an emergency exit, closed off to the public otherwise. The lights, the security, the carpets and photographers were all ready. Valessia admired the ballroom that had been set for the evening and took a deep breath to ease her nerves.

Evelyn Haknaren the evening's conductor approached the Minister. "My orchestra is ready."

"Good, and thank you," she replied with gratitude and looked back at the ballroom. The orchestra was set up at the very end on a raised platform that stretched from one end to another. There were two doors concealed by thick red drapes that bore the emblem of their nation, the black hexagonal shape stood out for all to see. It was to be one of the biggest events of the year, for the Minister at least.

"You are most welcome, and don't forget to enjoy the ball," Evelyn encouraged with a smile as she stepped away from the minister.

She took another breath and exhaled. Valessia pressed a hand to her earpiece, "and the bird is out of the cage, everyone."

Integrated into the evening's patrons would be field agents as approved by [member="Kuril Vehn"], security would be tight at all entrances. There was a list of those who were to be admitted without fee and a list for those would be asked for their tickets or moved over to the purchase line, or will call. The Minister of Foreign Affairs smoothed out her dress with the palms of her hands. She crossed the ballroom and out into the vestibule and then headed for the top of the stairs as she looked down a moment and breathed with a little relief. Her eyes watched the greeters make haste for the doors. Valessia then turned her gaze so that she could look over her shoulder and at the lift, men posted on either side of the doors and in front would be there to greet their VIP patrons.

The grand staircase was pristine, a bold alabaster white, with bronze rails and transparent steel between them. This was where their non-VIP patrons would meet before ascending up to the vestibule. Where a lift (VIP Entrance) and bar along with private seating and resting areas would greet all who entered dividing them between the grand ballroom, the dining area and powder rooms. Each area brought modern Halm architecture into a mix with the opulence that was the First Order as banners hung from the ceilings, each banner represented part of the First Order. Whether this was the Navy, the Army, the Stormtrooper Corps, the Diplomatic Corps, the Starfighter Corps, Medical Services, Science Division, Historical Division or even Education and Labor. It was all there, all to be seen and heard of, but there was something to be said of how it was arranged for all of the military banners were on the outside and were larger than the others but the ones inside were numerous and while smaller. There was a meaning, for all that they had and were in this day would be for not, if their military had not been there.

All of it there for the guests to see before they made their choice of where to go, and as the guests began to flood into the venue. Valessia then heard the fateful chime of the lift and took that as her cue to disappear into the authorized personnel door so she could prepare for the opening ceremonies. Her mind welcomed the sound of the opening number for the ball as it flooded through the halls, the ballroom, dining room, the powder rooms, the vestibule and all the way down the staircase. Surrounding all who came that evening to the third annual Military Ball benefiting the Wounded Veterans and Memorial Fund.


[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KjpmaljXv5w[/media]

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond C’artyom road in his limousine like speeder boredly. He was thankful for the champagne in the back and lazily poured himself a glass. He sipped the drink as the speeder trundled along and stared out at the cityscape through tinted windows. As Baron of the Empire he was afforded certain luxuries that the common soldier was not. He relished the pomp, but it still was not quiet enough to brighten his gloomy mood. The last time he had been in First Order space he had made a few choice decisions and now he wondered exactly how well received he would be. Regardless, he had been pardoned as the newly cemented relationship between the Galactic Empire and First Order was made public.

The Chiss agent marveled at the First Order architecture and wonderful display of the Hotel. The limousine stopped in front of the palace like building and Desmond quickly downed the rest of his champagne. Just as he set the glass down the driver opened the door for him. Desmond exited the expensive craft and made his way up the steps that led into the ballroom. He was adorned in a white three piece suit with a red dress shirt beneath. He tightened the white tie nervously as he walked the red carpet. Several camera men took pictures of him, and he shielded his face unconsciously from the flash. He felt like some kind of celebrity. The First Order citizens certainly praised their military well…

Desmond was greeted by a young man as he approached the entrance and Desmond shook the chaps hand, giving him a merry smile and a tip as he did so. “I am Desmond C’artyom,” The Chiss spoke in his rich Imperial accent “I should be on the list,” He finished and the youngman withdrew a holopad, searching for his name.

“Ahhh… Yes Baron C’artyom. Right this way sir,” The man spoke with a gay accent that Desmond found most delightful. He led the Chiss into the lobby and the Chiss peered curiously around searching for anyone he might know. He felt relatively lost in all the decor.

The last time he had been to a ball it did not end well. He feared a trap of some sorts for his past transgressions. But, no one seemed to pay him any mind. It was as if his sins had been completely forgotten, old news, so to speak. Desmond let out a breath of relief he hadn’t even noticed he was holding and his mood brightened considerably. He looked around the lobby for anyone he might know, not spotting anyone Desmond shrugged and walked the rest of the way to the lift.

[member="Valessia Creed"]

 

[WolfMortum]

It had been a long time since Veiere Arenais had attended such an event; The First Order were quite well known for the extravagance in which they put into these affairs, their ball's for which were of great renown among the upper class society of the galaxy often spoken of months long after the scene had been brought to an end; and yet Veiere had always struggled to fit in with such crowds. The first and only one of these he had been in attendance to was held upon Avalonia, whether that was the capital City as well as the world's name, he could not entirely recall though having come so soon out of exile and into his now beloved Wife's company, at the time it had been all rather overwhelming for an ex Jedi turned Body Guard and already at odds with the suitors that had lined up to meet with his employer. Contrary to this day, he handled the on-going struggle with rather more grace back then...

There were of course, ulterior motives for his agreement to partake in this new celebration and it was an underlying question as to how much of this [member="Lady Kay"] had caught on to given his refusal to speak of past accounts with those of the First Order, the assault against Ossus being the last time he had encountered their personnel though too upon the metal world of the Knights of the Iron Contingency had he encountered the overly obsessive and menacingly dark arrival of [member="Zodan Osyk-Drul"]; a rival in battle of both physical might and their differing allegiances in the Force that had yet to find it's conclusion.

Over the time since the Systems Alliance had grown into the trading hub and representation of democracy that it was today, the pair had come into contact with numerous members of Government from the western territories, the First Order having indulged in trade agreements and holding a non-aggression pact for the sake of said business dealings, had managed to stabilize relations between one another despite their other political ties being less than ideal before the Imperial Giant. While there was ever an ounce of careful treading where formal relations were concerned between the two, Veiere Arenais had one specific individual in mind for whom he had contacted prior to their leave of Commenor.

[member="Samka Derith"], she of whom had ascended the ranks into power at what seemed an impossibly young age and let slip in the early days long before her loyalty was ushered in, the Knights of Ren in name alone. Today, Veiere knew about as much as his wife did, that with time, Samka's reach had grown though neither one of them knew what exactly that entailed save for the fact that there had been eyes upon the Systems Alliance for some time, confirmed during the exchange between Connor Harrison and Kay Arenais during her visit to their embassy in the sector nearby.

Walking beside the Queen of Commenor and recognized Monarch of the Systems Alliance, their arms linked with one another, Veiere turned to lower his gaze to that of Kay's. "This is going to prove to be interesting..." He muttered audibly for the two alone, while his eyes swept the crowd that were among them, heading in to what could only be described as a most luxurious display of finance and prestige; "You didn't by chance invite [member="Darlyn Excron"], did you?" He soon frowned at the thought, glancing back at her in a moments reluctance. Darlyn, a man of many uses and the minister of Justice for the CSA was however more than a little trigger happy for Veiere's tastes and no doubt despite his being crowned, the Jedi side of Veiere's live too conflicted with the other mans nature of alignment. This of course wasn't to say that Veiere didn't like their collegue as an individual, he'd never done Veiere any wrong and yet here among such a place and a people, the need for his admiration of all things explosive, be that physical or emotional, was best kept back at home.

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="Valessia Creed"] | [member="Lady Kay"]​

 

[WolfMortum]

Inconceivable...

To be standing out in the open like this void of his armor nor the helm to keep his face from view; this night would be the first time that Caehl Ren had stepped out into public since his initiation into the Knights of Ren back upon the world of Skye. Only by the request of [member="Ara Zambrano"] would he step out into such a ridiculous notion of service to the Supreme Leader the likes of this without there having been an Order issued from the upper echelon. In his presence, there would have been a great deal to say for the one whom stood by the Panathan Queen's side were others to recognize whom he was.

To date, there were three alone whom had seen him without his attire symbolizing the might of the Ren. Castor Ren, Decitus Ren and Ara Ren, now a Zambrano against the disapproval of her Warden of Darkness, Caehl of whom had been re-purposed, the hand of Sieger Ren that would seize whatever threat to her throne might come from the unkempt and depraved of the Galaxy. Those among them to stand before this ceremony would do nothing to beg hint for affiliations past nor present; today he was not to be the Inquisitor of their secretive Order but rather to represent the Government under none other than his given birth name, weak and no longer of sentiment to him yet neither one that others were likely to acknowledge. Brennan Cabrol was long since dead and buried, a ghost of a life no longer.

​"Is this really necessary..."

He scowled under his breath as he walked alongside that of his ally, friends loyal in training and the bloodletting of their enemies, he had nearly killed her, run her through with a blade only to return her to duty and help guard her ascent to the throne while their ranks went through a most disgusting showing of insubordination; proving that not all were fit for the power and authority she had finally been granted in all her service to the First Order.

"Having me break bread with these People...-We could have continued our previous match had you wished to aggravate me so, Ara...".

He called her by her name, a sign of familiarity that was not common even for the sake of putting up such a facade; strength had been the focus of their efforts of late, a brutal training regiment for which would ensure that despite such a prominent position in politics, she would lose no ounce of ruthlessness in her ability to eradicate those that sought her name. Caehl detested the Sith, despised even more so the fact that Ara shared such a name for he had only prior been exterminating traitors who had moved to join the Brotherhood following the attack upon Bespin. Now he stood at her side, forced to put up with such peoples for the vision of Sieger Ren...-It was one aspect that Brennan had slowly begun to question within the recess of his mind, all the while his ties with the woman at his side growing ever stronger.

Spoiler

[member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="Valessia Creed"] | [member="Ara Zambrano"]​

 

[Kay-Larr]

Kay wasn't entirely sure of what to expect at this fundraiser ball. Of course there was the usual; the speeches, the music and dancing, people pairing off for nights on the town. But what else would happen? She wasn't expecting any trouble, yet it was hard to say whether or not herself and [member="Veiere Arenais"] would be given much notice. Commenor has always donated to these types of fundraisers and always hoped that the credits were allocated properly instead of the majority going to administration costs. Yet they could never be sure.

She walked along with her husband, her arm linked with his as though she never wanted to be pulled away from his company. Their moments together were far and few between at times, so any moment together, even during hard times, were truly treasured. Now that she was halfway through her pregnancy for their first child, she found herself getting a little more emotional than usual. No doubt Veiere would be able to sense it through their connection and how he watched her closely whenever they were together. They both admired eachother for different reasons and that was a feeling that she hoped would never change.

Kay tilted her head towards him while he spoke softly, giving Veiere a small smile as he too seemed to sense that this evening might not be a normal one. Although she wasn't aware of his ulterior motives. The man had learned how to accomplish things such as building their hideaway Estate without her even knowing, so there was sure to be more that he didn't divulge to her. But fair was fair. She had her own secrets to bear that she told no one.

She raised a brow as he asked about [member="Darlyn Excron"] . Her Minister of Justice had gone with her to the last fundraiser that she was invited to. He was good company. Without him, she'd of spent the entire evening alone. They both had left early as they felt more out of place than anything else. "Not personally, no. I left it open for any of the staff to attend if they wished. Though none are obligated to do so." None except for themselves at least. "Why do you ask?"

[member="Valessia Creed"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"]

 

[Arage Bao]

"A waste of tax money, sir, consider how much the upkeep is for that monstrosity." Darell would remark as the limousine rolled up to the Grand Palace and it came into view. He was a taut man, nondescript, efficient and eager to shape himself in that particular void that formed whenever Horne commanded and drew all attention to him in any sort of gathering. He was Tionese, of course, and could trace his lineage through generations upon generations, it spoke of good breeding.

Very important.

"There is much to be said about projection of power through extravagance." The response came with none of the hard-bite that Horne employed while negotiating this or that. Just a simple remark, a little veil pulled off the Moff's thoughts.

But Darell's opinion did not truly surprise him.

You did not rise to be personal attache to the Minister of Finance and Commerce without being at least reasonably frugal in your approach. "I suppose so." And that was that. The limousine halted and a few moments later the Moff was already going through the regular motions. A handshake here, nods there, a smile whenever appropriate, pure neutrality when it wasn't. This was as much a media stunt as anything else and part of Horne disliked it.

He had gained a reputation of a no-nonsense approach in the border worlds. It had earned him a promotion, the art of balancing possible rebel elements while also presiding over a substantial bump in tax revenue from his particular sector.

"It's time, sir." Darell mentioned quietly and Horne nodded almost imperceptibly. One more smile for the cameras and they headed inside.

 

[Kirie]

Crossing the threshold into the great structure of the Grand Palace, Kirie Ito kept her head down. Anxiously, she tapped her fingers against her leg as she wound her way past various well dressed executives, with expensive coats and luxurious dresses. Around her neck hung a simple silver chain, draping across her simple grey dress. A pair of black thigh-high socks covered the scarring on her legs, and her small white shoes raised her height by a few centimetres. A thin layer of make-up did little to conceal the dark rings under her eyes, but her hair was neat and braided. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she walked. She felt hundreds of eyes watching her hungrily, but when she looked around she saw only partygoers enjoying themselves. A shadow passed by her and she jumped, her face pulled into a tight grimace, lips tight.

It had been a long time since she'd been outside, she wasn't sure exactly how long. Following the Incursion incident on Kwenn station her injuries had required an extensive hospital stay, and an even longer time spent recovering back on Commenor. Her physical injuries had healed as much as they ever would, but her mind had suffered a far more permanent damage. Each night she was back in the metallic corridors, twisting and turning, or strapped to the metal gurney with hellish grinning faces arrayed above her. One image was always present; the spinning saber, arcing down. The shock as it cut her legs at the knee. She shuddered, a haunted look on her face. What's more, the many voices of the Contingency had left their mark on her psyche. It seemed they left small fragments of themselves when they were torn out. Fragments that whispered to her, never stopping. Some days she couln't hear herself think, and she'd just laying in bed, wishing it would end, until she was blessed with the oblivion of sleep.

The scent of purfume wafted into her nose, and a woman bumped into her, making her stumble slightly in her heels. She crossed her arms, drawing herself as close as possible. She'd been encouraged to go outside and socialise, Her carers having left that afternoon. At first Kirie hadn't wanted to, but her apartment was isolated and lonely. She found herself feeling trapped, and before long she was on the next starship to Halm. [member="Lady Kay"] and her husband [member="Veiere Arenais"] would be here. Kirie hadn't seen the Queen since the incident on Kwenn. She had tremendous respect for the woman, and looked forward to seeing her again. She shook her head politely at a waiter offering champagne, and quickened her step, scanning the room in search of Lady Kay.

Finally, she saw her, speaking quietly with her Husband, the King. Kirie froze, was she interrupting? Perhaps Lady Kay wouldn't trust her after Kwenn. Kirie steeled her nerves, smoothling out her dress with a shaking hand. She crossed the distance to the foyer where the pair were standing, and signed to the Queen. My Lady, am I interrupting?

[member="Lady Kay"] | [member="Veiere Arenais"]​

 

[Ax'no]

The Caprine Priestess landed at the spaceport with a small entourage - just Saira and Livna, her handmaidens, and an Iktotchi translator named Avun. Since tonight she was not among her own race, who heralded her as a chaste goddess, she had opted to dress a bit more provocatively, and provided there were no holo cameras around recording the Military Ball for posterity, she’d remain uncloaked. Her pale blue gown was sheer and the Priestess was framed in large swaths of transparent lace and tulle. Ax’no’s shiny, ebony horns were also decorated at the tips with dangling silver jewelry.

The man on her arm this night would be Kyrel Ren, Master of Ren and current resident of Vader’s Castle on Mustafar. She had not seen him since he’d visited the Grand Temple of Ax’no on Iktoch and given the time between, had come up with a more thought out plan of how to increase her power base above and beyond her small, agrarian community.

It might mean leaving her old life behind, but perhaps there was a solution where the Priestess could keep her Goddess status among her people, serving them along with another master.

The desert climate on Halm, suited Ax’no well, reminding her of her own windy cliffs back home. The music was fine, though she was more used to primitive instruments and less elaborate compositions. Likewise, the glitz and glamour of the event failed to impress her beyond providing a pleasing backdrop to the festivities. She was used to much more simplistic design and lighting. The Caprine were not a fancy race - drinking, merrymaking, fighting and other carnal pursuits took up most of their time, not interior design. Most of the horned creatures were just as comfortable in a cave as a comfortably furnished tavern. Her black claws clicking against a champagne glass, Ax’no scanned the room for Kyrel.

[member="Kyrel Ren"]

 

[Silfe Sosuri]

Silfe's Dress


The Grand Palace Hotel was nothing short of stunning. The opulence and decadent decor just screamed money. Perhaps such surroundings plied people's money from their hands better than if they were walking through a hospital with the wounded veterans this event was supporting. Silfe couldn't possibly guess. Still, she gazed around in wonder as she stepped out of the vehicle that had transported both her and the Crown Prince of Commenor, [member="Bradshaw Ku"] to the ball. It would only be a short time that she would allow herself to enjoy the sight like the young woman she was, she promised herself knowing eventually, she would have to be the Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Commenor Systems Alliance and not just a girl on a date.

She had dressed with care in a gown of beautiful red with a wide collar and black accent beading. It was the desert, so while the gown was long, it was short sleeved and opened up to her thigh when she walked. Her dark hair was up in an intricate braided knot with cascading tendrils around her face. She wanted to do right by [member="Lady Kay"] since the Queen of Commenor had put such faith in her by making her the Minister of Foreign Affairs. The young woman was unproven in politics, but she was willing to do her best and she had a passion for it.

This was very much unlike her date. Bradshaw may be the Crown Prince of Commenor, but he wasn't a politician and by his own admission, was a terrible example of a prince. Yet here he was at a Ball, with a date that wasnt... how shall we say....inappropriate? Silfe turned to watch him as he exited the vehicle as a soft warm smile came to her lips. How nervous would he be, if at all? Would being here with her help or hinder his enjoyment of the party. She may be young, but she knew the kind of man she was with. Knowing she had little experience with men didn't change the fact she was drawn to him, attracted.

Silfe knew she had to be careful as she could easily lose her heart to a man so charming. Yet Bradshaw was a boy still, with no responsibilities and a sordid past. It made heartbreak almost inevitable. Maybe just the tea they had had and this. Then she would bury herself in work and forget about his witty comments and looks that made her blush. She did so now and lowered her eyes.

"This is quite an extravagant party. Shall we go find your mother and step father? They are expecting us." Though, she wasn't certain Lady Kay and [member="Veiere Arenais"] would be expecting them... together.

 

[Connor Harrison]

It hadn't been too hard for one like Raijin to acquire an invite to the prestigious First Order ball. He had secured the invite from simply doing what he led others to do in a former life; target, listen, observe, strike and vanish.

On the cruise ship celebrating the liberation of Neritria, Raijin had witnessed many officers with loose lips once the ale started flowing. A few simply made it hard to ignore they were representing this or that at the ball. Once they had basked in their pride, all you had to do was wait until the right moment to frisk their jacket or coat, or even the cabin, and pocket their invite. It took Raijin eleven minutes to hone in on his closest loudmouth and secure the invite which he would have noticed missing....well, the next morning or afternoon when he was sober. His loss.

Now, Raijin stood inside the elegant lobby after having his invite returned to him, the seal broken and name checked off the list.

"Welcome, Mister Amedis. Enjoy your evening."

With a gentle smile, the Dark Side warrior pocketed his invite and mingled straight away, taking in the lush surroundings, the elegant decoration and soaking in the atmosphere. He slipped a drink from the passing waiter, a gin on the rocks, and slipped one hand in his suit pocket and walked through slowly, sipping the drink with a gentle hiss from his lips as the alcohol burned.

There was nothing but an air of confidence, charm and respect to Raijin tonight, posing as "Kyle Amedis; Commander of the White Wolves" - whatever the hell that was.

Tonight had to be one where he would leave with a fixed sight on his future; making connections, learning of plans and affirming who he was and why he was here. He was here to serve the First Order and erase the past that clung to his face and history as Connor Harrison like a virus. Faces from Connor's past would strike a chord with Raijin, but for none of the reasons they may with the person in question. The broken memories were now history, but he knew those who had played a part in the life of the former Jedi.

 

[Cavris Lyran]

Weasel was dressed in his formal wear. Suit was ragged and rough, his white shirt was crumpled and half was tucked in and half out. His arm had his personal gaunlet, perfect for any quick hacking he desired. He hadn't shaved in days, he was focused on improving his device. AlphaWeasel wanted to keep his tools up to date and ahead of the competition. Business was only good as lomg as you were at the top.

Walking towards the ball, Weasel switched his headset into their neutral earplugs. Ruffling his hair, he handed his invitation to a guard and stood waiting, in a dark corner. He was keeping a distance for now, not one for parties or social events. However, representing the Empire was crucial, especially since their crushing blow to SJO. It was to recruit and bolster their reputation.

 

[Ara Zambrano]

A deep, purring laugh met Brennan’s petulance, the Zambrano girl glancing over her right shoulder to smile at the man who followed just behind.

”If you continue to sulk, I shall have to make you do worse than break bread with them, I might have to make you dance.”

The mischievous gleam in her crimson gaze was matched only by the smug upturn of her lips. The last word whispered in shocked tones, implying that such an act was the stuff of nightmares, the dreaded act of dancing one to be feared and avoided. Her dark chuckle rolled over the pair as they moved, Ara once more turning her attention to the front, knowing her loyal friend would not stray far behind. After all, it was his duty, both by choice and by order, to ensure her safety and well being tonight as well as all other nights.

”As I doubt my face would appreciate a continuation of our previous engagement, I must continue to endeavour to find new ways to aggravate you.”

The banter between the pair was light, a jab at their latest season of training, in which the Knight had felt the need to leave a bruise across her jaw, the remnants of which had been easily covered by foundation for the evening. Her jaw still ached from the impact of flesh and metal, a move she had to give him credit for despite the painful repercussions. Tonight though, Ara had traded training gear and her saber for a gown and jewelry, the socialite mask once more settling over her.

The Zambrano felt a thrill run through her as music swelled, floating on the night air to reach those just arriving for the event of the season, a ball that acted as both a fundraiser and social event. Holding back, she paused, allowing [member="Caehl Ren"] to step up beside her, before smoothly wrapping her arm beneath his, resting her hand on the top of his wrist. A sweet smile met the disdain she expected to see on his face as her eyes closed for a moment, savoring the scents and sounds the night wrapped around them.

”Shall we?”

Her firm gaze and tone brooked no argument, the Master's eyes opening once more to glance up at her escort, although she suspected little true resistance would come from her friend. A small hesitation in her step as she moved not towards the spiralling staircase leading down, but instead, towards the lift off to the side, reserved for those allocated VIP status. This night, the Zambrano wore the mantle not of a warrior of the First Order, as a Ren, but instead, as the new Arch-queen of Panatha.

A gown of silver and black clung to her curves, fanning out behind her in a short train, finer than most anything she'd had the pleasure of wearing before. Her back all but bare to the elements, thin, decorative chain draped across her shoulders and rib cage. The soft pink, raised skin of old scars could be seen, a slashing cut across the ribs, another across one shoulder, and a puckered entry wound beneath the former, a visible reminder of the battle on Bespin in which the man beside her had succeeded in nearly ending her life. A simple silver necklace the only adornment, the eye of solomon hanging just below her collarbone, elaborately created from onyx and crimson.

Tonight was a true test of her lessons on etiquette and diplomacy, the state dinner she had hosted no less than a week before at the behest of [member="Samka Derith"] a mere trial run to the true event. A soft sigh escaped as they settled onto the lift, joining the masses in their revelry and celebration of the might of the First Order.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Virginia studied her reflection in the mirror of the ladies room of the venue, leaning over the sink so that she could watch carefully as she applied her eyeliner. She was attending not in her capacity as a FOSB operative this evening, but as part of her cover story as a functionary of the First Order government. She wore a floor-length navy evening gown with a black beaded mantle that draped from her shoulders to her elbows. Her red-gold hair was pulled into an elegant braided twist at the base of her neck, and she wore a simple onyx cuff at her left wrist, with her datalinked watch on her right.

She resisted the urge to blink as she dragged the pencil along under her eye, staring herself down in the mirror until she finally finished the line. A few moments later, she had finished with her makeup and tucked them away in her clutch before exiting the ladies room. Snatching a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter, she cast her eye around to see if there was anyone she recognized. She spotted a member of the Cabinet across the lobby; [member="Kilian Horne"], the newest Moff. They'd met a few times during business hours, but she was more familiar with his attaché, Darrell. She strolled across the floor, the crepe gown swishing around her ankles as she moved to intercept the Moff and his aide.

"Minister Horne," she squeaked genially, offering a smile and a firm handshake. "I'm surprised you'd show up to a function like this. I'd've thought the expense would give you a twitch." She half-turned to Darell. "Darell, good to see you."

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Virginia Schnapp"]

Horne did not skip a beat when Virginia intercepted them in their stride.

A gentle smile, warm and pleasant answered hers as he accepted her hand in his and shook it lightly. It always surprised him how firm and confident her shake was, something told him that if she had been interested... she could have broken his hand without breaking a sweat.

One to watch, for certain.

If there was one thing that Kilian always looked for it was talent. They had only briefly worked together in the past, a few meetings here and there, but he'd have to ask Darrell if there was a possibility of snatching her away from Industry and Development. That would be quite the coup, as far as Horne was concerned. "Miss Schnapp, you look absolutely wonderful." A compliment first, before an inclination of the head to accept the observation put forward. "Oh, I almost had a heart-attack, to be sure, but something steep investments must be made for dividends in the future."

The armed forces had been instrumental in putting down several insurrection plots in the borderlands when Kil had been a prefect.

To say that there were still lingering sympathies for their plight would be to make an understatement. "Good to see you too, Virginia, is the Minister of Industry in attendance as well then?" Difficult to mistake Darrell's eye brushing up and down for a fraction of a micro-second. The Tionese man had been gushing over Schnapp for a few weeks now.

Blood heated by competence and efficiency, it was somewhat adorable.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

"You needn't worry, Minister," Virginia said, her high-pitched voice belying the steely nature within her. "The credits raised by these events always far outweigh the costs -- especially if the rumors are true that Minister Creed, ah, compels donation and volunteerism for the events. For all we know this champagne -- which is, if I'm not much mistaken, a Chateau Devereaux Eight Forty Four?" She paused, swirled the golden bubbles around in her glass before lifting it to her nose and taking a gentle whiff, then a purring, aerated sip of the stuff. "Yes, definitely a '44. For all we know it was coerced from -- that is to say, donated by -- the vintner. If rumors I hear around the water cooler are to be believed."

She lifted her glass again, took another sip, swirled it around her mouth. "Mm. '44 was a good year for Chateau Deveraux," she said, glancing sidelong at Darell, hazel eyes narrowing slightly. "And in case you're wondering, Darell: yes, the rumors are true. This is also how I identify my men. And to answer your question, I'm not sure whether he's coming. He was invited, certainly, but you know how it is. Busy days."

The ginger turned her gaze back to Minister [member="Kilian Horne"]. "Speaking of Ministers -- Minister Creed is here for sure, but I heard the Grand Moff is on bed rest and won't be attending. Is anyone else from the cabinet going to be in attendance, sir?"

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Virginia Schnapp"]

"How scandalous." Horne retorted with an intrigued smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. Oh, he did not doubt that Minister Creed had her ways when it came to getting what she wanted for exactly the price that she wanted to pay for it. It was a pleasant thing for the balance and that was all that really mattered as far as Kilian was concerned, one could not be too frugal when it came to their book-keeping.

It ensured a brighter future for all as far as he was concerned.

Darrell's eyes widened a fraction when she spoke of vintages and men, before coughing ever so slightly. The feint blush brushing cheeks nothing to do with the heat of the room and everything to do with the perceived heat of the moment.

"Well- that, which is to say-" The Tionese was bumbling just a bit and soon coughed himself quiet at the amused glance Horne shot him. "Uncertain- as you say, busy days, I heard some rumors that the Minister of Security might attend--- Ah, right, Minister Calinda is in attendance, he finally managed to shake that insistent cold he has been carrying around for the past two weeks."

Calinda was culture and heritage. It didn't sound important, true, not as important as industry or finance or military, but there was a certain prestige that came from setting out the way the nation would show its style and aesthetic.

 

[Tanomas Graf]

Tanomas Graf would exit from the speeder at the entrance to the palace, straightening his uniform as he stood up; His aides and senior officers would soon emerge behind him, their sharp eyes examining the architecture of the First Order.

The old man decided to discard his black command uniform for once, donning a crisp white uniform with gold pauldrons, commonplace for the grand admirals of the old Empire, and a plaque that signified him as the grand moff.

He was ushered inside, where someone caught his eye as he passed reception. "Would you like to make a donation to the Wounded Veterans and Memorial Fund, sir?" A young woman in uniform asked, holding an extravagant container in her arms that Graf could make out to be full of credit chips.

Knowing full well that he was one of those veterans only a few years ago, Graf reached a wrinkled hand into his pants pocket and withdrew a chip from it, placing it in the container with a kind smile to the woman. Turning and making his way to the ballroom, he relished in the thought that they would discover the amount soon: 10,000,000.

With his officers dispersing to mingle with others, Graf was left to his own devices. Soon enough he would discover the VIP lift and enter it, disappearing from sight as the doors closed and coming face to face with several people: [member="Desmond C'artyom"], his faithful right hand and respected major of the Imperial Security Bureau, and some others who he was not familiar with.

"Greetings, Grand Moff Tanomas Graf of the Galactic Empire." He introduced, ready to ascertain the identities of the guests.

[member="Ara Zambrano"] | [member="Caehl Ren"]

 

[Riamah]

When the invitation to attend a charity ball held by the First Order was extended to a select few within the Empire, Ailuros decided to attend. Dancing and music was a part of her culture and two of the things the cat lived for. She was getting her ship prepared to depart when Anya came walking by and stopped to speak with her about the upcoming ball.

She asked what the cat was going to wear and the answer was shocking to the other woman.

"You can't go there naked, Ailuros! Come with me."

Grabbing a hold of Ailuros, Anya dragged her to where she had her formal dresses and held out several of them to imagine what the trianni would like in them. Making a final decision, she held the dress up for the cat to take and put on. After that was done, Anya nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"At least it's not pants. Look even your tail can be free."

And with those words and a very unhappy and cranky cat, Anya walked away with the assurance they would see each other at the ball.

Letting out a growl, Ailuros gathered up the dress in her arms and carried it to her ship. She would wear it only when she had to and the trip there she didn't need to. Before arriving though, she took her time to clean her fur and make herself presentable. Getting out all the knots, kinks, dirt and grime from her fur, Ailuros hardly knew herself when she was done. Donning the dress, she took more time to make sure it was on properly and smiled slightly at the finished job.

Arriving on Halm, Ailuros walked out of her ship and found one of the waiting cars that would take her to the ball. Taking a seat in the back, when the door opened the young trianni climbed out and stopped. The sheer beauty of the building in front of her was shocking to her. Her whiskers and tail twitched, the pointed ears on her head tipped forward and she approached the entrance almost in a trance.

Her name was requested as she walked in and she gave it in her daze.

[member="Anya Malvern"]

 

[Anya Malvern]

[member="Ailuros"]

She had to laugh lightly once away from the cat, she was quite funny kinda helped her fear of cats greatly. In her little room she quickly got ready having a few servants help her and getting stuff in order for her three children saying goodbye and to behave for the servants before seeing herself off

The trip to halm was peaceful and upon arriving she sent he leading codes and was guided to a landing zone where she touched down. She hid her saber in her dress and took a breath as she started up the steps, giving her name she was allowed in.

Awing at the building she looked among the crowd, sporting her feline friend she quickly came up and spoke

ah! There you are so glad to see you and the dress looks amazing on you

She said and stopped a server as she got one of the drinks

 

[Bradshaw Ku]

“ --…borgle bat’s bum puckering in a power dive… -- So then, Blodda the Hutt says to me – Rectum? Damn near killed him! – but you know, in Huttese so it’s funnier…” Bradshaw was joking anxiously, mostly to himself and under his breath, before [member="Silfe Sosuri"] and he exited their ride to the Grand Palace Hotel.

He didn’t have the foggiest clue how to attend a ball. Having grown up away from Commenor and his adopted mother, [member="Lady Kay"] he’d spent his time wandering the galaxy as a combat pilot and smuggler and attending rather less reputable establishments. Forget anything as opulent and well managed as the venue now waiting before them.

He’d even served for a time as a combat pilot for the First Order, though his tour of duty had been rather undistinguished. The First Order wouldn’t remember him, but that was just fine, as he’d never cared one way or the other about them either.

Now, he was the Crown Prince of the Commenor Systems Alliance and he was supposed to act as such. He’d yet to get a handle on that part. He figured dressing up was a good enough start, but he was also getting not-so-subtle hints from his mother that his free-ranging, irresponsible days were numbered. He’d soon have to truly start acting like the heir to the CSA.

All that was well and good. He knew representing the CSA at these shindigs was important… somehow, and he supposed the fundraiser was for a fine enough cause. However, if that was all that there was to this ball, he’d very likely not bothered. The reason he was here, was the young woman in red who was to be his date for the evening. The new Minister of Foreign Affairs had caught his attention in a meeting and she’d not let go since. If she was planning on putting distance between them, she’d soon find the Prince to be surprisingly more persistent than his history of being a playboy would lead one to believe. It would even surprise him.

This wasn’t like their first… could he call it a date? Besides the ridiculous number of security personnel involved, that date had been a more private affair. This was much different. He was unsettled by the formality, the extreme lavishness, and most of all, the dreaded small talk. Which was why he’d reverted to his primary emotional crutch. Humour.

“Let’s” he said simply. Then placed her arm around his and allowed himself to get lost for a moment in her eyes, a welcome escape from all the pomp and circumstance. He put on a brave face and a warm smile as he led her toward the entrance, then through it. Their positions and titles affording them no trouble from the doorman.

“Once we find them, we can barricade ourselves between them. Then they can field all the weather talk while we talk about anything more interesting,” he only half joked.

Would his parents be expecting them together? There was only one way to find out.

- [member="Kirie Ito"] - [member="Veiere Arenais"] -​